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dracosbabygirl8 · 1 year ago

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TWIN

Theodore Nott x reader!Matteo Riddle’s twin sister - PART 2

Summary : in which Theodore Nott develops a forbidden crush on his twin sister's best friend in three situations (inspired by this tiktok)

Warning : toxic siblings relationship, mention of alcool and smoke (lmk if i missed any)

n/a : it's my very first writing, and I'm soooo nervous to post it!! and i also questioned myself if i had to provide a better ending. i just love the suspens and the tension in this one, but if you wanted more details about what private place you go, just let me know, and i’ll add it in the second part (yeah, it's already in the works). hope you enjoy

As Mattheo Riddle's twin sister, navigating daily life isn't a walk in the park. While he can be an incredible brother, showering you with everything you desire and providing unwavering comfort in times of distress, his overprotective nature poses a challenge. No one dares to approach you as he harbors a deep distrust, particularly towards men.

You're in the slytherin common room, casually hanging out with Pansy, Enzo and Blaise when Theo, Matteo, and Draco join you after their weekly quidditch training.

As soon as Matteo enters, he lightly taps your shoulder, which is touching Enzo's shoulder due to the smallness of the sofa you're seated on « hey more space, shawty » he remarks. You chuckle and roll your eyes, finding him quite ridiculous, but you oblige, shifting forward to avoid bothering your brother, who seems to be in a delighted mood, likely due to their quidditch win against ravenclaw.

Draco wanted to teases him a bit « let her breathe mate, she needs to experiment yk, have a boyfriend, etc » he says while lighting a cigarette. « Oh, i had a boyfriend once » you share with a mischievous glint in your eyes. Blaise jumps in with curiosity « and... how did it end? ».

You turn your head, your eyes narrowing as you fix a deep, playful stare on Matteo, your tongue rolling on your cheeks « and…he broke his jaw ». Laughter ripples through everyone, and amidst the chuckles, you catch a faint « that was predictable » from Theo, who observing the dynamic between you and your twin brother, shoots you an amused look, recognizing the subtle nuances in your expressions. Undeterred, you retort « yeah, but we were 11... » casting a mischievous glance at Matteo, who now sports a proud, devilish smile, you add « poor Craig... » in a hushed whisper, you shake your head in a sorry way before erupting into laughter with the others.

•••

You take place in the Great Hall patiently awaiting Matteo’s return from detention, you focus on a parchment resting on your lap. Meanwhile, Theo enter the Great Hall either, he see you, lonely sitting, while reading your parchment. Pretty as always, distinguished as always, like you were out from a fairytale.

He approach you confidently. You feel his intense gaze, accompanied by the wisps of smoke from his cigarette. « may i join? » you just replies with a light « sure » he take place next to you, dangerously close. « What are you doing here? » he attempts to start a conversation « uh- just waiting for Mattie to get out of detention. I had to give him my notes from potions before his quidditch training, n’you? » you answer. « Waiting for him to go to quidditch training » he replies, smiling lightly. « Is it your notes? » he points to your parchment, and you nod. He moves a bit closer, your knees now touching. « You’ve beautiful handwriting » he says while leaning, his words dancing tantalizingly close to your cheeks, the warmth of his breath and the alluring blend of his cologne and cigarette teasing your senses, sending shivers down your spine.

You turn your head towards Theo, faces remarkably close, and you find yourself lost in his deep green eyes. However, as you spot Matteo descending the stairs in the background, you swiftly step back on the bench in a heartbeat, creating a more formal distance between you and Theo.

« What are you two doing here? » Matteo inquires, reaching an eyebrow as he approches. « We were just waiting for you. I wanted to give you this since you overslept this morning, it's the notes from the potion class that you missed » you explain while handing him your parchment, Matteo expresses his gratitude by offering a light embrace and kissing your forehead.

« Here we go, mate, we'll be late for the match, i have to change » he says to Theo, already hurrying off and heads towards the stairs.

Before following him, Theo stands up and suggests « yk i think we should go out together sometime » looking down on you. Lifting your face towards him, you internally question if you heard him correctly « no- i mean, i don’t date my brother friend’s- sorry » you respond with a light smile, wondering if it might be a stupid test orchestrated by Matteo. « Oh that’s suck- i guess i should have kicked his ass then » he replies with a smirk on his face, stubbing out his cigarette and abruptly start to walk, leaving you alone with your heart racing dangerously fast.

•••

Pansy informs you that Draco will be hosting a party in the slytherin common room tonight. Despite being aware that it will undoubtedly irk your dear brother, you are determined to attend the party. You begin preparing yourself, opting for a subtle makeup look, donning earrings, and choosing a dress that strikes a balance between not being too provocative yet clearly not formal, for the occasion.

As you walk through the corridor, the booming music and lively cheers signal that the party is in full swing already. You're well aware that your brother — likely already drunk or high, or both — is somewhere amidst the revelry. A slight unease settles in; you know how unpredictable he can be, especially if he's not in the mood or if someone approaches too closely. Despite this, you muster a resolve, telling yourself « no- not tonight »trying to convince yourself and boost your confidence, you repeat silently « i’m an adult, capable of making my own decisions ».

As you make your entrance, you subtly scan the crowded room to locate your brother, intending to steer clear of him as much as possible, « the magic trick is to avoid eye contact » Pansy says with a chuckle, guiding you to move in the opposite direction of Matteo and his friends — who are, incidentally, your friends as well — are seated.

As you approach the table to grab a drink in a green goblet, the sensation of numerous eyes on you is palpable. Engaging in conversation with fellow girls students, you gradually find your way to the dance floor, feeling a bit tipsy. Joining Pansy, fully immersed in the beat, you begin to sway your hips to the rhythm, surrounded by other drunk students from various houses. You’re suddenly yanked by the wrist, and a familiar voice demands, « what tf are you doing here? » you sigh; facing this situation was inevitable, knowing he would spot you eventually. « Well, i was just yearning for a generous dose of infantilization from my dear twin brother, so naturally, i found the prime spot for it. Thrilled to see you here too » you retort, rolling your eyes. He doesn't bother responding, guiding you towards the group seated on the couch. He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow, poised to question you once again, « just here to enjoy the party, same as you » you reply after a sigh « stop treating me like a fucking child, can you ? » you add. He settles into a seat, commanding « fine, stay next to me then. I didn't like the way they all dance around you » with a resigned sigh, you lower yourself onto the sofa, a tinge of disappointment lingering. Positioned between Matteo and Theo, you observe Draco, Blaise, and Enzo engrossed in a spirited debate on who is the sexier girl at this party while sipping on their whiskies.

« What a way to enjoy a party » you whisper between your teeth, arms crossed. Theo ear you and chuckles, « want to try it? » he hands you a blunt. Smoking is nothing new to you, and he knows that. You indulge in cigarettes daily and experiment with weed during parties surprisingly receiving Matteo's approval. You accept, take the blunt and muttering a quick « thank you » to him. As you savor the hits from the loaded blunt, the smoke lingering in the air, you immerse yourself in a conversation with Theodore.

Despite finding him very attractive, you haven't talked with him much, especially one-on-one. Unsure if it's because he doesn't like you (or quite the opposite) or if you lack the courage to talk with your brother's best mate, whom you've secretly fancied for so long.

The conversation delves into things and other, drifting effortlessly from one subject to another, punctuated by shared laughter at his jokes and reciprocal smiles. Suddenly, he says « uh- you’ve got a bit of lipstick—just right here », he point out the corner of your mouth. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks, and as you reach to wipe it off, he leans in, his thumb brushing the side of your mouth, « and there you go » he says, offering a smile. You feels your ear and your cheeks burn from his move and his smile. You smile him back. Unbeknownst to you, the entire scene unfolds before Matteo, who abruptly crashes onto the sofa between you two, declaring, « fine, enough conversation » while death staring at Theo.

A sigh escapes you, it's incredible how your brother manages to disrupt everything. Irritation seeps in as you become increasingly bored. Rising from the sofa, you announce « i’m a bit sleepy, guys, i'll head back to my dorm, g’night ». They wish you a restful sleep, and as you stand up, Matteo asks, « do you need me to accompany you until your door? » secretly hoping Theo would offer, you respond, « no, it's okay, i’ll find my way, don't worry ». Taking your time to bid farewell to friends, you discreetly search for Pansy to tell her about your quick interaction with Theo. When you can’t find her you leave the room in direction of your dorm.

During this time, Theo replays every moment of your conversation in his mind—the brightness of your laughter at his silly remarks, the way your hair cascades perfectly over your face, and the sensation of your warm skin against his fingertips. Lost in these thoughts, he stands up abruptly, stating, « uh- i’ll grab a pack of cigarettes from my dorm » and departs without waiting for the group’s reaction.

As he exits the common room, instead of heading to his dorm, he veers towards yours, hoping to run into you in the corridor. « Already heading to bed? » you inquire upon recognizing Theodore's silhouette in the darkness « uh- yeah, not really. Actually, I was searching for a pack of cigarettes in my dorm » he answers a bit surprised. « Isn't your dorm in the opposite direction? » you respond, a hint of doubt in your voice « hm yeah, you get a point. Tbh, i was searching for you » he admits with an embarrassed smile while scratching the back of his head, in the dimly lit corridor, you look at him a bit confused, he step forward and confesses « i guess we didn’t finish our conversation earlier ».

Seated on the corridor floor, you share deep conversations and cigarettes together. During a comfortable silence, Theo inquires « isn't it annoying to have Matteo as a brother? » while staring at the wall in front of you. « Oh, definitely! He's nice and all, but he tend to put a damper on my freedom. There are plenty of things that i want to do, but he doesn't allow me... » you share, exhaling a puff of smoke, « and if he stopped preventing you from everything, what's the first thing you'd do? » Theo locks eyes with you, his gaze intense and unwavering. You lock eyes with him, torn between sharing the genuine answer or letting it linger unspoken. As the alcohol and weed take hold, you consider whether to reveal the truth. Summoning by a burst of courage, you smirk lightly and say « this... » before crashing your lips onto his. Your arms wrap around his neck, he kisses you back instantly, placing his hand on your waist and deepening the kiss. Seconds pass in this intoxicating embrace before you separate to catch your breath.

« Are we waiting here for your brother, or should we find a more private place? » he inquire with a husky voice and a smirk on his face, the lingering warmth of the kiss still palpable.

masterlist

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spncrscasey · 7 months ago

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One Chance (k.s.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Kelly Severide x Fem!Reader, Leslie Shay

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Kelly Severide. The man who hasn’t stopped asking you out since you joined 51. But now, you have a date and his time is up.

Warnings: flirting, fluff, tiniest bit of angst? (idk if this would even be considered angst,) happy ending

a/n: i don’t rlly like this but it’s smth quick and short cuz i was bored. i literally saw this gif and the idea came to me, idk what it was about the gif but it resulted in this so here you go ! enjoy reading <3

“Hey gorgeous,” You heard him say as you walked in, winking at you.

“Morning, Severide.” You reply, rolling your eyes.

“When are you going to let me take you out?” He asked like clockwork.

This had been going on since the week you'd joined the firehouse. Each day, he’d ask if you wanted to go on a date with him. And every time, your response would be the same,

“Never.”

Yet he still hadn't given up, “Never say never, m’lady.” His answer earned a chuckle from you, causing a grin to form on his face.

Truth be told, you really liked him. He was not only an excellent leader but also a great friend. And let's face it, he wasn't bad looking either. Who were you kidding? You could get lost in those mesmerizing blue eyes for hours. He was beautiful.

But you also knew him. You knew his reputation. A ladies’ man, a womanizer, a playboy— you could go on and on. You were aware of the multiple women he'd take home weekly and you didn’t want to be one of them. You weren't the kind of girl who regularly has one-night stands. There's nothing wrong with them, it just wasn't who you were.

The point is, you didn't want to just be someone he was one and done with. Which is why you were continuously rejecting his advances. You couldn't lie though, it was fun watching him flirt with you in hopes of one day, getting your attention.

As you entered the kitchen in search of coffee, you noticed that he had quietly followed you inside.

“So. Any plans for this weekend?” He questioned, as you poured yourself a cup.

“Actually, yes. You want one?” You asked, pointing the mug at him.

“No thanks, but do tell.” He inquires.

“I have a date.”

“With who?” He instantly questions.

“Not that it's any of your business, but this guy I met at a coffee shop down the street a few days ago,” You reply, smiling.

He rolls his eyes in annoyance but tries once more, “How about you ditch him and go on a date with me instead, beautiful?”

“Once again Severide, not happening.” You shut him down for the umpteenth time, walking away.

Shay was currently at your apartment helping you get ready for the date you had tonight.

“I'm just saying, I've never seen him so into a girl before.” She tells you, lying on your bed as you rummage through your closet for something to wear.

For the last hour, she has been persistently trying to convince you that Kelly has suddenly developed a romantic interest in you.

“Leslie, I know he's your best friend and roommate and that you have to be on his side or whatever- but come on, we both know how he is. Which one?” You ask, revealing two black dresses you were struggling to choose between.

“The one on the left.” She answers before going back to the topic at hand, “He’s changed Y/N- he hasn't brought home a single girl in the last month! If that doesn't tell you something then I don't know what will.” She exclaimed.

“Just because he hasn't brought them home doesn't mean he hasn't been to their places instead.” You point out, putting on the dress.

She sighs. “Just give him a chance Y/N, he's a great guy.”

“I know he is, but being a great man doesn't also necessarily make you a great boyfriend.” You say while beginning your hair and makeup.

“You’re so difficult.” She counters, earning a giggle from you.

Shay had gone home and since you were done getting ready with 30 minutes to spare, you decided to watch some TV.

You were flipping through the channels when you heard a knock at your door. Assuming your date had arrived early, you hurriedly went to answer it.

“Hey, you made it-” You speak excitedly before looking up and noticing who it is, “Severide?” You furrow your brows, not expecting him to be here.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” He says, looking you up and down.

His words quickened the pace of your heart. And the way his gaze slowly roamed down the outline of your body caused a shiver to run down your spine, electrifying every nerve along the way.

“Uhh, thanks… But what are you doing here? If you're looking for Shay, she left a while ago-” You quickly answer, pushing aside the way his compliment made you feel before he cuts you off.

“I'm not here for her, I’m here to talk to you.”

“Well, you better make it quick because I'm sure my date will be here soon.” You open the door further, letting him into your space.

“Screw that guy!” He says turning to face you towards the door, “How many times do I have to ask you- go out with me. Please.”

If you didn't know him any better, you'd almost think he was desperate with the way he was pleading.

“Kelly,” You pause, noticing the way his breath hitches at your use of his first name. “I don't want to be just another name you add to your list of girls you've slept with.”

“You won't be! I like you Y/N and if you let me, I can prove it to you. I’m done with all the women- all I want is you.” He lets out exasperated.

“You mean that?” Still unsure of his motives, you look into his eyes searching for anything to prove to you that he’s being honest.

He nods before repeating his earlier statement while taking a step closer to you, “So how about, you call up your coffee shop man, tell him you're canceling and let me take you on this date instead?”

You laugh, “You drive a hard bargain Kelly Severide.”

“Is that a yes?”

You nod, not being able to contain your ear-to-ear grin, loving the way he beams back at you. That smile is something you could definitely get used to.

“Don't make me regret this Severide.” You say in a teasing manner.

“God no.” He says relieved before swiftly pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Maybe Shay was right, maybe he really had changed for the better.

#sky writes #chicago fire #one chicago #one chicago universe #kelly severide x y/n #kelly severide x you #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide #leslie shay #leslie elizabeth shay

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yasashii-leaf · 1 year ago

Note

Happy holidays!! 🎁

*gives your AC bois mistletoe kisses*

Aw merci a toi aussi bonne vacances !

#my art #y/n #reader #shay cormac #assassin's creed #altaïr ibn la'ahad #ezio auditore #ezio auditore x reader #altair x reader #shay cormac x reader #Altaïr ibn la'ahad x reader

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lunarmoves · 11 months ago

Text

through pixel eyes (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later.

Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.

Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul.

Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep.

Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view.

“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on.

That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ‘hi sun.’

“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack.

‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain.

Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?”

The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’

He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!”

You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!”

Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’

“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”

It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’

“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself.

‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’

“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?”

You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’

“Because it was Sirius!”

‘now that one was just predictable.’

“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.

You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely.

You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’

Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow.

“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”

It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’

“Wonderful!”

Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice.

“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!”

A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’

Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.”

What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think.

Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing.

‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’

“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!”

You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.

Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’

Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way.

“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!”

You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition.

“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”

‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’

“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile.

Everything is suddenly—quiet.

“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”

And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!”

That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope.

Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean.

“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!”

You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’

He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”

You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right?

And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.

“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!”

‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse.

“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?”

You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the Moon.

“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!”

‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role.

“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”

You raise an eyebrow. Right. Like he could even see behind you in the first place. 'nice try but i'm not falling for that lol.'

Sun huffs, his foot stamping against the invisible floor he resides atop of from within your monitor. "Well you're no fun at all! Just turn around for a second, wouldja?"

You can't help the small snort that leaves your mouth. 'alright, fine.' You have a feeling you know what he's trying to do here anyways.

You indulge him and turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You take a moment to ponder your space, stretching out your introspection, then swivel back around to look at Sun.

Only you’re not looking at Sun, of course. You’re looking at Moon.

Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why.

You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’

He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes.

‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’

“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’

His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice.

‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’

Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.

“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.

“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on.

“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home.

“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.

“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last.

“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.”

Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.

“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.

“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.”

Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”

And then the program closes.

You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.

There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t.

A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out.

(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)

You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you.

You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.

No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.

With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting.

It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily.

It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun.

“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. Loud! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump. Oww.

Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t.

‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’

“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later.

Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.

Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”

‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.

“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.”

You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’

His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!”

You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen:

FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?

All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop.

Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.

FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.

Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips.

Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice.

“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?”

The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun.

“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it.

“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.”

You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?”

“Can you say my name for me?”

Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.”

A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.”

You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.”

“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?”

You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.

“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!”

“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume.

…It’s very quiet.

Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard.

At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.

“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!”

“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better.

“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.”

“You’re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement.

He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.

In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits.

You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?”

“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?”

“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature.

“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it.

“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”

“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word.

“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”

“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”

“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!”

“Right, right…”

You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it.

As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon.

“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”

You suppress a shiver.

You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?”

“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!”

“What’s the deal with Moon?”

If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”

“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.”

Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!”

“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.

“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.”

“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly.

You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well.

“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.

7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.

…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time.

Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.

Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.

part three

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sun-snatcher · 2 days ago

Note

i need need NEED a blurb of Shay and Haytham reacting to Cormac!reader and Connor being young kids in love. I can just imagine Haytham watching Shay have the worst time of his life watching them 😭😭

( all credits to @ginaunderthesea for this lovely gifset! )

✠ | debonair ; f!cormac!reader

a/n. Ask & you shall receive! Have a quick blurb of Shay being an exasperated father 🤲🏼 (& Haytham being a proud lil’ shit LOL)

“You have to admit,” Haytham shrugs, “That was rather charming, what my boy said. Unexpected as it is.”

Shay turns his head so slowly it’s borderline ominous.

“Suddenly the wean’s ‘your boy’, then, aye?” he scowls, face like a growing storm. “Now is a terrible time to be impressed by him, Haytham.”

“If I were to claim my son completely incapable of charm, I’d be lying. And I don’t make a habit of lying to myself,” the Grandmaster says, sounding uncharacteristically proud, of all things. “I’m rather delighted to know Connor isn’t so hopeless. Atleast we know now he’s inherited some of my debonair traits—”

“Oh, I ought’a end the Kenway bloodline where y’stand,” Shay bites, shouldering past him with a scoff. “Keep your boy away, Haytham, or I’ll make true my word.”

The threat is a poor attempt, serves more like fuel to the fire. “Ah, yes, I could try. But even then, your darling dearest daughter wouldn’t approve, no?”

Shay stops in his tracks. Shuts his eyes and faces skyward, in an impatient, hushed mutter.

“Lord above, give me strength,” he exhales, rubbing a palm over his face after a string of incoherent Gaelic. “I refuse to be victim by this. Don’t encourage the boy.”

“Come now, don’t be—” dramatic, Haytham very nearly says, before catching himself short at the whipcrack of a malevolent look Shay had shot him. “—unreasonable,” he tries instead. “It was a harmless compliment from Connor.”

“Harmless!” Shay waves an exasperated hand. “She was blushing,” he glowers. “Over a bloody sentence!”

“She’s a girl.”

Then, amending himself, “A woman, actually.” Haytham points out, barely able to contain the amusement in his tone. “Capable of making her own decisions, like falling for an eligible, handsome, young man—”

“I am going to shoot you, Haytham Kenway.”

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weirdest-lights · 7 months ago

Text

Shay and Haytham aren't having a good time with the new stray.

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madwomansapologist · 1 year ago

Text

smile for the camera | peach salinger

Navigation | More Best Friends Forever AU | AO3

synopsis: Peach has been sick for so long, it makes sense that now she wants to have fun. What was supposed to be just a drink or two turned into an endless night - albeit a forgettable one for your drunken brain. But Peach has more than enough photos to prove that what happened is not imagination.

warnings: yandere!peach salinger. smut. groping. nudes. fingering. oral. toxic friendship. codependency. her rare illness that reaaaaally exists. gaslighting. manipulation. jealousy. substance abuse which means this is somehow equally dub!con? cheating. as a survivor of a homoerotic toxic friendship, this is more of a confession. in this house we support women's wrong. female!reader.

You should be preparing for next week's seminar for your work. More than that, you wanted to be preparing yourself. It's important, you worked a lot on it. You promised yourself that you would finally make sure that everything was ready and set for your big day.

And yet there you were. Driving towards Peach's location. Not the first time. Certainly not the last.

Peach just had the worst week of her life - acording to her huge history of messages, twitter account and daily Be Real updates. Another complication of her rare disease. It's something about gluten and PH. You never really understood what it's, all you need to know is that it's serious.

And you weren't there for her.

Peach is way more than just a friend. She's your family. You know her since graduation. A couple of years, but it feels like a lifetime ago. She's been there beside you for so long that you can't actually remember how life was before her.

She's always there for you. Since the first day. A kind listener to your ramblings about horrible teachers turned into someone that would hear anything you needed to say. And Peach can count on you too. What for her started as someone who actually knew how to do makeup ended with someone who would clean her tear stained face.

Peach's advices may be harsh to say the less, but she always is there to hear about your problems. It was so difficult when you were suddenly fired from your last job, but you knew you could count on her - still embarrassing to accept money from her, but what other choice did you had?

When your grandma passed, she was there for you too. When you lost your cat, when your car died out of nowhere, when you discovered in the worst way possible that blush actually does spoil.

Peach is always there for you, just as you're always there for her. But just when she was sick... you weren't there to help.

Away for the holidays, with your family, everything was perfect. That's what hurted you the most. If it was at any other week you would be worried, yet not guilty. But of course it happened right on the week you knew Peach would be alone.

Fuck her decease, and fuck her shit family.

You almost came back. You even told her. Peach tried to tell you not to, but you really would. But your mom almost killed you with her stare just from mentioning that you might need to go back to New York earlier.

Back to town, you had so much to do, but what else could've you say when Peach asked if you were free to go drinking with her? Maybe the truth. But the truth wouldn't help her, nor would make you feel good about yourself.

Just two or three drinks, you told her.

"Pookie!" Peach called you when you entered the pub. You looked around, the place with more movement than usual, and saw her waiving for you. "Right there!"

You dropped your purse on your usual place. Peach knows the owner, and he always makes sure to have her favorite place free. You kissed her cheeks, relieved to see that she looked healthy.

"I knew that dress would suit you perfectly," Peach pulled the hem of the golden piece. Her fingers stayed there longer than necessary, just feeling the warmth of your skin throught the dress.

You sat down, seeing that she had already asked for your drink. Exactly what you wanted. "Thaaanks," you pratically purred at her. "I have clothes at your home, I will give it back to you tonight."

Peach took a sip from her drink, mirroring you. She fixed her hair, as if it wasn't perfectly done. "You can stay with it. Looks better on you, anyway."

"Always trying to gift me things," you rolled your eyes, but a smirk quickly appeared on your face. 'So... who are we talking shit about tonight?"

"Boo... I've missed you so, so, so much," Peach grabbed your hand.

You held it gently, your thumb brushing against the soft skin of her palm. So warm, so free of any scars. Peach's hair smells like milk, her neck like strawberry, her breath like mint. But her hands always smelled like honey.

"I've missed you too."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You drank way more than three drinks.

The night started on that pub, but it didn't end there. Somehow things with Peach always ends with you both wandering throught New York. As if live was a tv show. Maybe that's something that happens to rich girls, and you're experimenting it out of proximity.

Going on different bars, laughing at anything that moves, talking about epiphanies that wouldn't survive the night. It wasn't a surprise that it would turn into a drunk karaoke night, but you'll still get surprised by the photos on your phone.

Struggling, Peach unlocked the main door of her house. You went upstairs trying not to fall, and put your heels on the floor - you don't remember taking them off.

Peach dropped her purse, not caring about where it would fall, and stretched. That was too much. Definitely too much. Peach is used to get wasted, but even she was affected.

She don't even remember how you both managed to get to her home. For a matter of fact, neither do you. After a certain point, the night was nothing but a dark blur.

Peach knew you would do everything to come back to her. You have the biggest heart ever. She wanted you to spend new years eve with her, but she undertood you wanted to be with your family. But when she saw the picture of your new boyfriend with your mom... she needed to do something to stop that.

He just... He don't deserve you. He's not on your level. You need someone that will be able to take care of you. Someone that will assure that you can work on your researches, that will give you freedom, that will support you in all ways that matter.

And that's not that guy. How will be your future with him? Worrying about mortcages and settling for the basics when you deserve the best? You deserve more. And if you can't see that, than she'll open your eyes.

Her sickness wasn't able to get you back, but now you're here she'll make sure to tomorrow morning give you a few advices. She didn't mean to make you feel guilty, but if you feeling guilty makes her have so much fun... Peach ain't able to say that she's ashamed.

"You ain't going to throw up, right?" Peach kicked her heels away, moonlight illuminating her bedroom. "I really don't want you to die while I sleep."

You just rolled your eyes, admiring yourself through the mirror. "I feel so pretty."

"That's because you are, pookie," Peach sat on her bed. Getting her earrings off, she followed your hands as you slid them across your dress. Her dress.

You licked your lips. "I feel... hot."

Peach sighed. She needs you in her life. You're half of her. You're hers. Most of the time she can ignore that. She can pretend that being your friend includes wanting your attention all the time, needing to always have an eye on you, dreaming of you.

But now with alcohol messing with her head, it was difficult to chose to look away from you. To keep on pretending that she don't want to look at you all the time. To shut up that part of her that knew you both are endgame. To not pretend that you're the forbidden fruit and she don't even need a snake to tempt her.

"That's because you do."

You looked at her hazy eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so."

It was your time to sigh. "I don't want to forget that," you played with the hem. "I would record me like this if I could."

Peach opened the second drawer of her nightstand. In the mirror, you saw the analog camera shining. “What an old thing,” you teased her.

"Then pose," she said. You turned to her, brows arched. She was already aiming it at you. "Smile for the camera."

You rolled your eyes, but smiled anyway. Even blinded by the flash you still knew she was too.

That wasn't the first time she used that camera to record you. You reorganizing your kitchen's cabinet, wandering through libraries, dining with a date. Peach can't believe you're real. She uses those photos as a proof of your existence. A proof that you're more than a fragment of her mind.

Peach thought you wouldn't want it. That you would think she was weird. But now you'd asked for it. As the flashes go on, you have fun with new poses. It was almost childish. Just two drunk woman having fun together.

You sat down on her bed, and Peach walked towards you. Looking at you through the camera, she tripped and fell on top of you. You laughed hard, your head against her pillows, as Peach tried to get up. She leaned on your shoulder, sitting on your lap, and felt your laugh echoing inside her.

Then the laughter ended, and silence consumed you both. Suddenly you both realized how late it was. How really lonely you both would've been if not by eachother company. Peach on your lap, the camera lying on the bed, your breathing unregulated.

"Is it ok if I take it off?" Your fingers were again pulling the hem of your dress. "Would you mind?"

"O-Okay," Peach whispered. "Go on."

Peach hesitated before reaching for the camera. Her hand was shaking. The first photo was just a grey blur. She breathed in and tried again. Then she saw.

You weren't looking to the camera.

You were looking at her.

The next was of your face. You body didn't even appeared. Your hair loose on her pillows, a lopsided smile breaking free, eyes glowing with the moonlight. The forbidden fruit, within reach of her touch.

"Am I pretty like this?"

Peach breathed in. "You're perfect."

"Show me," you whispered. "I want to see it."

Peach reached for your cheek, caressing it slowly. Her fingertip brushed against your lip, and you opened your mouth. Without even realizing what she was doing, Peach put her thumb inside your mouth.

The flash made you close your eyes, but she knew there was no way for you to not look perfect. The wet finger went down your body, marking your breasts with your own drool, and the flashes continued.

She could die from your expression as she pinched your nipple. Or from how easily you opened your legs for her. How you glowed, so sensitive to her fingers. How you arched your back. How you whispered her name.

Then she started recording it.

Her tongue against your clit, fingers inside of you. Her mouth on yours, hands grabbing your waist. Your drunken gaze, stupid mind, static body. Sometimes you spaced out, but Peach would bring you back to Earth.

It was slow, and torturing, and neverending. It was a fever dream, a blurred memory, a drunk imagination. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. A dream, that's the only explanation.

But her so precious photos and videos would proof otherwise.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #best friends forever au #yandere peach salinger #peach salinger #peach salinger x reader #peach salinger x you #peach salinger x y/n #you (netflix)#you (netflix) x you #you (netflix) x reader #you (netflix) x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #shay mitchell x reader #shay mitchell

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the5thnightjar · 24 days ago

Text

Orange & Blue

kaiser x gn reader

small trabble WC: 315

AN: I tried to keep details about the reader vague (only the favorite color and season are mentioned a few times). It's my first time writing other than poems so feedback is greatly appreciated.

Summer was your favorite season, the orange in its air a color you loved.

It was an early-summer morning when you met him, when everything had felt warm and orange. On a park bench, with blue dyed hair tied into a half bun, cooling against the oranges of summer and your favorite shirt. Watching the sun climb out the horizon with small conversations, to seeing clouds start to swallow it while talking of bigger dreams to chase after the impossible, made blue a bit more interesting to you.

Blue was a pretty color, a color of shared interests and interesting differences, a color you'd occasionally admire from afar.

It had been a warm evening in late spring when you gave him a rose and asked him out. It was the rose you had prepared last evening, that dyed your kitchen counter and orange decor blue, the rose whose stem pricked you 6 times when plucking the thorns, the rose that contrasted so against your blood, you thought they belonged together.

A blue rose to a blue-eyed beauty, under the light blue sky, wearing a pretty blue dress you'd forgotten you had- blue was the color of hopes, of changes, of dreams to love the impossible.

It was night in the middle of winter, when you felt the sting of the bluish snow under the blue neon signs at the edge of the central market. That winter, you had seen how badly blue contrasted against against red of your blood, both on your skin. how ugly it looked near the orange of your favorite shirt. You had felt in your heart the sharpness and burn, of the pretty, ambitious, distant blue.

Blue was a color of the cold and of hurt, it was the color of the impossible too far for you to reach. Blue was a color he loved, a color that stung in his favorite season.

the spring is when kaiser's blue begins to overtake reader's orange. That, and the bruises and blood in winter is the toxicity that I believe is inalienable to kaiser's character due to his past.

the reason I chose summer and orange is to make it the opposite of kaiser's winter & blue. his fav season is mentioned in the egoist bible :)

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deathofacupid · 1 year ago

Note

hi lovely! congrats on 100 followers again!

can i ask for a tom holland x singer!reader? with the following prompts?

jump, sender jumps on the reciever's back. + "you got me flowers?"

perfect | tom holland

thank you so much! i love this request it's so sickeningly cute ❤️

this is part of my 100 follower celebration, for which you can request here!

summary: you've just got back from tour, and tom's the first one waiting at the airport.

warning: none, just pure fluff!

pairing: tom holland x singer!reader

word count: 1.2k+ words

ask to be added to the taglist, and check out my full masterlist here...

reblog, like, and comment <3

you bounced on your heels anticipatingly, waiting for your luggage to appear on the baggage carousel. it had been 5 months, which was far too long, since you'd last seen your boyfriend (tom) in person. having just released your new album a less than a year ago, your manager had coaxed you into going on tour.

at first, you were hesitant, because 5 months was a long time. normally, whenever tom went somewhere for filming, you did too.

but what you hadn't expected, however, was for you to blow up so quickly. of course, you weren't complaining. just... processing. (you'd been processing for 2 years now.)

the thing you hadn't realized when you'd begun singing, was that with more fame, came more responsibility.

this was the 2nd tour you'd ever been on. you didn't dislike them by any means, they were just a lot. it had much to do with your overall endurance. because, no, you didn't like sleeping in hotels all the time, eating restraunt food everyday, dealing with paparazzi (not fans, paparazzi).

also, you didn't get tom time. talking over the phone did not count, by the way.

all you wanted was for your bag to come into your eyeline so you could grab it and get hugs. from tom, specifically. god, you missed him so much. you were sure he was the only thing keeping you sane the entire time.

without him, you weren't sure you'd be here. you smiled to yourself softly, just at the mere thought. your bodyguards were a couple feet away from you, as you requested.

tom was the one who insisted you hire them, for your safety. you didn't like them very much. okay, well, you didn't dislike them.

phil and barry were sturdy, tall, muscular men. not like tom-muscular. like, one-papercut-and-it's-over-muscular. you had nothing against them, it just felt like they were always (and you mean, always) there. constantly breathing on your neck, and you couldn't blame them.

it was their job, after all.

they do their's, and you do your's.

your phone buzzed in your back pocket, and you pulled it out. reading the contact, you couldn't help but grin at tom's name.

tom: hey love you getting bags rn? xx

y/n: yeah

y/n: sorry it's taking so long

y/n: wait do you think my bag got lost somewhere??

tom: i'm sure that's not the case darling

tom: just wait a bit more

tom: i cannot wait to see you i've missed you so so so so so much

y/n: me too bby

y/n: i love you smsm

tom: i love you too ❤️

you read the message over again before hearting it, pocketing the device. you pulled the hat down lower, looking up when one of the men grunted. if you were being honest, they looked the same with their shiny heads and dark, black sunglasses.

the man, be it phil or barry, grabbed something(s), they were 4, off the carousel. you sighed in relief, glad that they hadn't gotten lost. because while you could replace those things, it didn't mean that you wanted to.

you offered to carry one, because they were your bags, but they'd shook their heads gruffly, ending that conversation (it wasn't much of a conversation, anways). besides, you were too excited about seeing tommy to care that much.

you walked (jogged?) out of the baggage department and into the main area. you saw people holding up signs, many decorated with ribbons, sequins, and various bright colors.

you looked around with a huge smile on your face, trying to find tom. finally, you saw him by the side, holding up a giant poster that read the following; "my gorgeous, beautiful, amazing girl... you know who you are!"

letting out a yelp of happiness, you ran over to him, where he awaited you. tom stood with open arms and a matching expression, and you dived into his arms. squeezing him tightly, you totally didn't shed some tears into his shirt.

"jesus, darling, you have no idea how much i missed you," he gripped you a little tighter, not letting go.

"not more than i missed you!"

"um, i'm pretty sure i missed you more, pretty girl."

you pulled away just enough to look at him. and god, you had really missed those honey-brown eyes. you look a moment to look at him- no, to see him.

your eyes ran over his left eyebrow (the crazy one), to the curve of his lashes, to the freckles that faintly dotted his cheeks, before the crooked bridge of his nose (from having broken it so many times), and then back into those soft eyes of his.

running a hand through his curls, you rested your forehead against his. you dropped you hand to cup his cheek, and he wiped away a stray tear.

granted, it had only been a bit over 5 months, but you'd learned you couldn't live without him.

"how was the trip back, lovey?"

"it was okay. fine. didn't get any sleep though," you said, crinkling your nose. airplanes made you panic a bit, you wouldn't lie. and you could never make yourself eat anything with the motion-sickness, and tommy knew that.

"well, when we get home, i'm gonna give you all the cuddles and we can sleep together."

"i'm not sure if i have the energy for that."

tom groaned, but you knew it was endearingly, "no, baby, that is not what i meant."

"i'll never know."

he gave you another look.

"i wish you were there with me," you murmured.

"i wish i'd been there too, but love, i promise you, i watched them all live. stupid contracts," he muttered, "keeping me from my girl."

you laughed lightly, nudging your nose with his, "s'not your fault. you can't control when you've got to be on set filming. but i really love you for watching them."

tom looked at you quizzically, as you played with the collar of his shirt. "are you kidding? i couldn't completely miss my best girl's performance."

"'best girl'? i have competition?"

"a little. but i wouldn't worry too much," was all he said before he captured your lips into a sweet kiss, one that had been put off too long. you pulled at his hair at the base of his neck, trying to get more of him.

because after this long, no amount was enough.

before it got to heated, he pulled away, cupping your cheek, which you leaned into.

"i love you."

"i love you more."

"i love you most," tom countered, and you shook you head, too happy to disagree. because how on earth did you end up with a man like this?

you used to believe in the saying "no one's perfect", but clearly, whoever said that hasn't met tom.

you pulled away from him, not before pecking him one more time.

"let get going before traffic hits, shall we?" he bowed down slightly, offering his hand to you, which you took.

"yes, we shall."

"oh," he said, "by the way, i got these for you." he handed you a bouquet of pink carnations, your favorite. you squealed, jumping on his back.

"you got me flowers?"

"pretty flowers for my pretty girl."

"awww, you're such a romantic, i love it."

"it?" he asked, adjusting you on his back, "or me?"

"ugh," you pouted, squeezing his cheek, "you're so perfect."

taglist @whatsupstark @ell0ra-br3kk3r @idli-dosa @susvale @kdbsr-h @littlemsbumblebee

#tom holland x reader #tom holland #fluff #tom holland x you #shay writes #shay's 100 follower celebration #tom holland x y/n

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shaisuki · 8 months ago

Note

can u write smth for sae!!!!!!

“does it bother you that i'm your girlfriend, sae?

the older itoshi glances at his girlfriend below him. he's half-naked. his shirt already discarded moments ago and he's ready to pounce on you and the question popped. his teal colored eyes narrows down at you. a scowl in his face present at your question and you bit your lip. regretting the question. it wasn't intentional and you just blurted it out.

does it bother the itoshi sae that you are his girlfriend. the answer is no. it is that simple. no buts. no what ifs. pure and straight. no. it doesn't bother him that he's girlfriend is big despite his much leaner build than yours. he's all muscles and you're soft. he loves that for you and if it bothers him that much that you are his girlfriend, he shouldn't have asked you to be his in the first place. he got only two things in his mind. soccer and his girlfriend. the rest doesn't matter and his time is that valuable to waste it for something he doesn't want.

“good thing you're adorable.” he deadpans. a faint twitch in his lips while he reach to cup your round cheek in his palm. amused at the musings of his girlfriend below him. “no. it doesn't bother me.” he answers you and he's placing a chaste kiss to your lips and then another until his lips are moving to yours and then kissing under your chin until he got lower and lower.

“sae!” you gasped at the sensation of his hot breath fanning the inside of your thick thighs. his fingers cold making you shiver at the coldness of his fingers. “you're starting to ask stupid questions. i ought to shut you up or i get to make a use of your mouth to get it occupied. shut up and let me do my business here.” his voice cold and how could there be warmth on his voice. you ask yourself but you were literally stopped when his tongue took a long lick between your folds. your body jerking backwards and sae grips your thighs to avoid you from running away from him.

it doesn't took long for you to shut up and only call his name. chanting it over and over again while he greedily laps the juices coming out from your fat cunt. your hole weeping with need and sae is skillful with his tongue. you didn't even realize that your legs is clamping his head but sae paid it no mind. too focused and occupied to get more of that sweet juices of yours flowing from your aching hole.

it's hard to belief that one of the most valuable player of real madrid is in between your legs. licking your pussy back and forth when sae can't be bothered to smile at the cameras pointed at him. you have never seen him so satisfied not until he's in-between your legs. a man who's cravings have been satiated.

“sae, i-m cum—” your boyfriend disconnects his mouth to your sticky folds before you can cum earning a dissatisfied whine from you. “this is what you get when you ask me stupid questions.”

“so mean.” you muttered and sae doesn't missed that. “i'll show you mean.” he says and since that you never asked questions that sae seems as stupid. you learned it after being edged. crying your eyes out and begging for him to make you cum.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock x chubby reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #anime x reader #anime x chubby reader #x reader #x reader smut

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helpyourselfwithcherrywine · 1 year ago

Text

Masterlist Of Works.

Announcement: 10-1/ sorry I lost my glasses and I can't see shit. I finally got the energy to start writing and I can't see crap. This is why the letters on the masterlist are this big

Please don't steal my shit.

Edit: follow my other Tumblr of a dead mall below

🌞🌅

Knight in Templar Armor (Series) Modern!Haytham Kenway x Reader. Assassin's Creed

The Characters

* Chapter 1

* Chapter 2

Miscellaneous.

The Beginning of the End - Haytham Kenway x Reader

The Madonna of the Carnation.

Haytham's Journal Entry

Currently only Assassin's Creed but, I'll probably put more fics up. I still have an unfinished Loki series fic as well as OC x OC stories. Ones a noir the other is a romance-mafia POC xPOC story.

Writing Ideas (Feel free to use them)

My YouTube Channel of Music Playlist

Support a struggling weirdo on my Ko-Fi

#reader insert #haytham kenway #connor kenway #haytham kenway x reader #shay cormac #haytham kenway x y/n #assassin's creed 3 #assassin's creed rogue #masterlist #fanfics #my works

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yasashii-leaf · 1 year ago

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Imagine coming back from a mission being really cold; Automatically Shay and Haytham drag you in front of the fireplace for snuggles

#my art #assassin's creed #shay cormac #haytham kenway #reader #y/n #shay cormac x reader #Haytham kenway x reader

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sun-snatcher · 8 days ago

Note

could you write "i know i'm a monster, but you treat me like a man." from your prompts with shay cormac/f! reader? I discovered your profile recently and been loving your writing🫶🏻

( all credits to @bankaizen for this delicious gifset! )

✠ | of monsters & men ; shay cormac

summ. Your secret is revealed. The Captain of the Morrigan doesn't seem to mind. w.count. 2k. a/n. f!reader , but reader is pretending to be a man , james kidd who? , slow-burn , mutual pining , friends-to-lovers , just reader & Shay being love-struck idiots . (I also understand that traditional sloop-of-war’s much like the Morrigan wouldn’t’ve had a crow’s nest due to her size, but for the sake of the fic, allow me to wave a magic wand over canon!)

ST. ANTHONY’S RECEIVES the Morrigan with loving arms.

With the ship lain to, and half the crew offboard, the Northern squalls billowing downwind into the dank, creaky port does little to stifle the riots of songs livening taverns and inns. All this, yet—

“Birdie!” calls a voice, floating high somewhere by where the topsails have been furled secure. “Haven’t frozen y’toes off there, have you, lad? Be a shame if I lost the finest Navigator the seas have yet to offer.”

Sitting slouched in the crow’s nest, you let out a snort. “Aye, lost ‘em all to scurvy just yesterday, I fear,” you lament, voice timbre. "Go away!"

Shay’s delighted laugh fills the air—

And you quickly tamp down that flutter you feel in your chest before it could get too treacherous.

“Also,” you note, once he hauls himself from the mainmast and lands with a perfect perch at the nest’s guardrails, “I’m the finest Navigator the seas will ever offer you, Captain, thank you very much.”

“Aye, that y’are. Dare I say the finest Mariner there is—”

“Oh-ho?”

“—right after me, ofcourse—”

“Little Irish bastard,” you scowl, failing miserably at hiding your grin, and swatting childishly at him when he scoots to settle into a comfortable seat next to you. “So. St. Anthony’s women not t’your fancy? What’re you doing all the way up here, Captain?”

“Funny that. Was going to ask y’the same thing after I saw y'run off. An’ Christ, call me Shay. I’m beginning to forget my name after all these months sailin’.”

“Well, I was drawing, Captain,” you deflect, easily. Better than confessing you don’t want to be stuck in a stuffy room brushing shoulders with rowdy drunkards, and feeling your own heart bleed out watching pretty ladies bat their lashes and sidle up freely next to Shay.

Your answer is hardly a lie, anyway. The only reason the crew had taken to calling you Birdie in the first place is because you bide your time up in the nest scratching away in your papers (or dozing off one too many times, as Gist so likes to point out). That, and the fact it proves easier with your slightly build to pull your weight in the lines or riggings up above.

“Rum?” he offers, and sets it by you. It feels alot like a peace offering, even if it's unintentional.

Shay’s gaze falls on your tattered, leatherbound journal. A curious trinket; he’s never seen you an arm’s length from it, nor the pencil you keep tucked on your ear. He’s seen you sketching away into its water-logged pages more oft than not, cheeks stained with graphite and a furrow between your brows. “S’that your woman, birdie?” he says, glimpsing the unfinished markings of a face. “Now I see why you're not tasting the local cuisine. She’s a beauty.”

You can't help but break into a knowing, private smile. “Aye… Something like that.”

"How mysterious."

"She's my sister," you lie, if only to chase him off your scent.

"Oh? Well, does she have a man?"

"Fuck off," you bite, though without heat. The chance compliment settles nicely in your cheeks. "She’ll only be a trouble t’you. She's not your type, anyway, Shay.“

"Isn't she?" he hums cannily, but doesn’t broach the topic further. He’d never dared to ask to look in the book— isn’t exactly his business, after all— but you shrug and trade it for his drink. “Y’sure, birdie? I don't pry.”

“Go on, then, 'fore I change my mind.” There isn’t anything damning written about you in there; You know better than to risk that.

“So?” you take a swig, just as Shay begins parsing hrough the pages. "What is it? Surely you didn't climb up here t'keep warm. Come t'bother me?"

“Is it a crime for a Captain to want to spend time alone with his good friend?” he muses, distracted by the drawings— nay, Masterpieces, these are masterpieces, birdie. Y’ve a future in this, y’know?— of intricate horizons, coasts, constellations and isles on the weathered pages.

Shay recognises them all: Asian archipelagos and spits of the lesser Antilles or the Caribbean reefs you’ve both voyaged to, dated and signed; alongside notes of headings and longitudes penciled under stipplings of navigational celestials like the North Star, the Dipper.

“If the Captain is you, Shay,” you answer, “Then any man with sense.”

“Oh, I mean the Morrigan, birdie,” he teases, only to earn a sharp smack at his knee.

“Ha-ha. I reckon all your good friends are women, aye?”

“So it seems,” he agrees absent-mindedly, and you wonder if the sideways glance at you had been your imagination.

Shay turns to the still-lifes. Breaching humpback whales and dolphin pods arcing over whitecaps; a bird’s-eye-perspective of the crew on a sunny day aboard the Morrigan, and countless, bustling ports across the world you’ve visited. There are portraits of the crew too: of deckhands, gunners, or of Gist, and even a stern profile of Haytham Kenway looking portside in the distance.

And in-between it all—

Him. Captain Shay Cormac. Immortalised in blink-and-you-miss-it moments: manning the steer while holding conversation, or perched at the bow afore the setting sun, or peering through his spyglass from the sail riggings. “I ought to commission’ you. These are bloody incredible.” He traces a finger over one of the more detailed portraits of him, looking serene despite the menacing scar splitting his face. “Y’ve done me a justice, lass.”

You choke on the rum.

“—Aye,” you cough, willfully ignoring his mistake. Or had you misheard? “Perhaps, ah, one day.”

(Regardless. He couldn’t possibly know, surely. You’ve been careful for this long.)

You clear your throat. Shake your head. “You haven’t properly answered my question, Captain.”

“Right,” he relents, and closed the journal before handing it back to you. “I was just curious—”

You steel yourself for the worst.

“—why’ve y’stuck around for so long?”

Oh. “You mean, aboard the Morrigan? With you?”

“Aye,” he nods, levelling your curious, critical look. “I’m sure y’ve heard rumors an’ chatter about me, birdie. Isn’t hard t’miss. Master Kenway, Gist, an’ I’s line’a work, that is. I’m here to confess it isn’t all hearsay, that what I do isn’t a pretty thing.”

“Didn’t fancy you the type t'care about what other people think, Shay.” No one needs to earwig that to know it’s true. It’s quite known that Captain Cormac is an unflappable creature who’s earned his place in the world both on and off-land, to toe the thin line between confidence and arrogance wherever he goes. Though you suppose he’s just a man, at the end of the day, if he’s this consumed over a little mud-slinging to his reputation.

“I don’t,” he agrees, truthfully. “But I do care what you think.”

Something soft curls in your heart. Damn you, Shay Cormac, you curse. You handsome, quick-witted—

“I know it isn’t pretty. And fortunately for you, I’m no priest, and we’re not in a confessional, so,” you sniff. “Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

He huffs out a polite laugh. “Well said.”

“Listen,” you sigh, more serious now. “Other men may have come and gone with the tide, but I’ve voyaged with you the longest because I wanted t'stay, Captain.”

“Exactly. You’ve seen what I can do. I know I’m a monster, birdie, but y’treat me like a man, an’ noble men don’t— do what I do.”

Ah. So there’s the root to all of this banter, then. A crisis in faith, somewhere. “Shay,” you narrow. “I’ve never met someone who’s a stout heart as you; Kept every word like bond, and never traded honour for prestige. Now, most monsters are men, and it’s all the same to the likes of me—”

(To the likes of me, Shay catches the slip.)

“—but I think you need to ask yourself: do you kill without cause?”

“No,” he says, affronted. “I fight for the people.”

“Then you’re twice the noblest man any could ever dream to be.”

A beat.

Shay drops his head back to the mast with a glittering look in his eyes you can only describe as fond. (Perhaps, if you dared to indulge, affectionate—) “You’re a bloody gem, birdie, y’know that?”

The cuff of his sleeves brush against your pinky, and you can feel the toe of his boot against your own. You try not to focus on either of it, try not to focus on the proximity. “Aye, most women call me a diamond in the rough.”

He doesn’t laugh and take the bait this time, much to your surprise. “My Da once told me, birdie: It’s not enough to give people what they need to survive, you need to give them what they need to live.”

“Aye,” you nod, after a subdued moment. “I’ve stayed because you’ve given me that, Shay: purpose. Sailing the seas on the Morrigan is the freest I’ve ever been.”

“Y’ought to sail with your true self, birdie.”

You seize. Feel your blood run ice cold. “My… truest self is by your side.”

“Is it?”

“Isn’t it?” you bristle, and you are cutting now, Shay can see, because you’re frightened. “Captain, how much have you had to drink—?”

“I’d make a poor Irishman if half a bottle’a rum is all it takes to end me. Now take it easy, lass—”

You scowl, and move to sit up. “I’m not a—”

“It isn’t a fret to me at all, birdie,” he says, firmly, the back of his hand nudging your shoulders to lean back. “At ease. I’ve known you’re a woman for ages, now.”

This time you can’t school the look on your face.

“How long’ve you known?” you swallow, after you gathered your wits.

Shay cocks his head in thought. The confirmation now only pieces together what he’d always had a sneaking suspicion of, sensed even beyond his own second sight. Your gear, your mild stature, your peculiar mannerisms; nimble-handed at the riggings, fleet-footed in every brawl. But, if he’s to put a time on it—

“Singapore. When y’knocked that Portuguese sap’s teeth right out his head an’ put the heart crossways in him after he fretted the poor barmaid. Looked right personal t’you. I gathered then.”

A pause. Careful calculation. You’re trying to piece your reality back now that it's been shattered: the moonlit hush, the whistle of the winds, the lap of the tide against the Morrigan. Finally:

“Pretty sure he was Peranakan,” you correct, uselessly. Your hackles aren’t raised anymore. Shay would’ve acknowledged the look of defeat in your eyes had he not been so captivated by hearing your voice— real voice— for the first time.

(It’s gentle. Beautiful. If he’d been any more loose-lipped he might’ve pleaded you sing for him.)

“Captain, Singapore was… a long time ago.” It’s a loaded sentence, and had he not known you well enough he might’ve missed it: Why didn't you say anything?

“Aye. Like y’said earlier,” he waves, dismissively, “Doesn’t change a damn thing. Only, what’s your real name, lass?”

You tell him. It’s been unspoken for so long, that for a moment it sounds near foreign to your own ears when he rolls the syllables back to you in his accented tongue. “Lovely name. I’m guessin’ the woman in your journal is you, aye?”

“To be a dame in a boatful of men is a death sentence, Shay,” you laugh, distant. It isn’t pleasant. “Ill omen to have a woman onboard, you know? Or so they say.”

He knows what you really mean.

“An’ yet here we are, after all these years, alive an’ well,” he challenges, raising his and your shared rum to the pale moon. “Besides, y’know I make my own luck, lass. So don’t think of leavin’ the Morrigan now, aye? Would be a right shame if I lost a sailor fierce as you.”

Another stumble in your heart. You bite your tongue. Shay’s trying to get a laugh out of you, you realise. To lift your spirit.

“Your secret’s safe with me, birdie. The Morrigan doesn’t discriminate, an’ you’ve earned your place on this ship a long time ago. Tell y’what, if anyone lays a hand on my finest Navigator, y’have my word to unman them yourself.”

That does it. Now you do laugh. Bell-like. Bright and sunny and warm—

And it knocks the wind right out of his lungs.

Aye, you'll be trouble indeed, birdie.

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dracosbabygirl8 · 1 year ago

Text

HIS LOSS, MY WIN

Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader

angst x fluff

SUMMARY : in which, Draco and y/n recount their childhood friendship and the events that led them to finally acknowledge their feelings for each other.

WARNING : use of y/n, death of y/n mother, cheating on by Cedric with Cho Chang (don’t get me wrong i love them both it’s just for the plot), swearing, kissing

n/a : (the banner’s supposed to be : draco’s, y/n’s and cedric’s hands. i didn’t know if it was really understandable). sorry if it's a bit repetitive, but it's intentional to provide insight into their two distinct points of view. I hope you enjoy it!

headcanon & moodboard here

PREAMBLE

DRACO’S POV

I've known y/n since we were toddlers. Coming from respectable pureblood families, we often found ourselves attending various dinners, balls, and fancy events together. That's how we became friends. I made it my mission to annoy her more than anyone else, just to catch her attention. I can still vividly recall the moment she laughed at my teasing and tried to come back at me with her own clever retort, her eyes sparkling with amusement reflecting the unspoken bond that was forming between us. Little did I know that those childish exchanges would lay to foundation for feelings that would withstand the test of time. My crush on her has persisted for as long as I can remember.

I've always wanted and tried to be as present as possible for her, especially during her darker times... In turn, she has consistently stood by me, attentively listening and making an effort to understand my unspoken emotions during moments when I struggled to put words on my feelings. She's the only person on earth with whom I feel comfortable enough to reveal my true self and my feelings. Except those I have for her…

Times were perfect when we both entered hogwarts and were sorted into slytherin house. We could spend endless hours together—skipping classes just to chill in the common room, cuddling near the fireplace for hours under the pretense of studying, spending entire nights in each other's dorms talking about our big dreams and how we plan to take over the world. She never missed one of my quidditch matches, cheering me on with unwavering support. My feelings for her only grew wider, and from an innocent crush, I started to become completely obsessed with her.

Although, in fourth year, I admit I started to lose patience. With all the hints I gave her, how could she be so blind? So I tried another method that Blaise advised me, apparently it worked for him and Pansy. So, as he told me to do, I started hitting on other girls who showed interest in me. The plan was to make her jealous, hoping it would trigger her to realize she might have feelings for me beyond friendship, but... she never did. On the contrary, she even seemed to enjoy my hookup stories, I guess. So I took part in this mess and tried to move on with anyone I could find…

Later, she started dating that bloody Diggory. I tried my best to warn her that this guy was just a fucking idiot, but she thought I was trying to sabotage her. To be honest, that's exactly what I was trying to do, but it was for her own good. I could have guessed how it would end up for them... Anyway, I thought that I had moved on and that maybe we could finally have a real platonic friendship since she was with someone else. But watching her laugh at his jokes, gaze at him like he was putting the stars in the sky, cheer for him at our quidditch matches, or hold his hand when it should have been mine—it was stronger than me. I had to distance myself from her, otherwise, I would’ve completely lost it and decked the guy. It tore me apart to do so, and she probably thought I'm just an asshole for ignoring her, but I had no choice. When I saw her give up on us, it hurt me badly, but she was happy, so that's all that mattered, right?

Y/N POV

I've known Draco Malfoy since we were in diapers. Being an Avery, from a long line of respected wizards, our families have been intertwined for generations. We attended plenty banquets, dinners, and parties together, fostering a beautiful and strong friendship.

Over time, he became the closest friends i've ever had. He was incredibly supportive and comforting when my dear mother tragically passed away. On my part, I was well aware of everything regarding his father's strictness and the type of abuse he might have endured. I've witnessed him in all his states and moods, and I believe nobody, not even himself, knows him better than I do.

Our entrance to hogwarts only brought us closer, as we were both sorted into slytherin. I may started developing a huge crush on Draco in the third year, and it persisted until the fifth year. However, I tried my best to resign myself because it was clear he only saw me as a friend—a very close friend, maybe even a sister—but nothing more. We were used to being inseparable and close, like very close. People often thought that we were secretly dating. I wouldn’t have minded it, but he never made a move in this direction, so I just kept patiently waiting. Despite leaving him subtle hints of my feelings, it felt like whispering to a deaf ear.

With time, I attempted to move on for my own sake, though not without a little assistance. I wasn't actively seeking a relationship, as my thoughts remained focused on Draco. Eventually, I crossed paths with someone who genuinely appreciated me for who I am, showing interest in me and only me. After multiple dates in Hogsmeade and long-night talks in the botanical greenhouse, I decided to give Cedric Diggory a chance. While this relationship may not have had Draco's approval, I assumed it was because Cedric was in hufflepuff and also not from a pure lineage of wizards like we were. Nevertheless, it didn't matter to me, Cedric was kind, understanding, and I loved him, assuming he loved me too.

As Cedric and I began spending more time together, I distanced myself slightly from Draco. Just a bit, but it was necessary, given the longstanding feelings I had for him. For the sake of my new relationship's health, I needed to return to a normal, platonic friendship with Draco. I still attempted to hang out with him after class in the slytherin common room or for study sessions at the library. But weeks after weeks and negative answers after negative answers, I began to realize that he was simply ignoring me on purpose, even avoiding me. Unfortunately, with the stubbornness known to slytherins, I never run after him. We became mere acquaintances, exchanging casual greetings like « What’s up, Malfoy? » when I spotted him in the common room, to which he'd reply « Y’good, Avery? ». That was the extent of our interactions in a whole week—no more chuckles at his silly jokes or pranks, no more cuddles on the common room sofa, and no more dances at the Malfoy's ball. Even though I occasionally caught him staring at me during classes, he always averted his gaze when I noticed.

NOW

You hurried through the dimly lit corridors of hogwarts, your heart pounding in your chest, each step echoing with your distress. Sobbing uncontrollably, tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you desperately rubbed your eyes, trying to erase the haunting image burned into your mind.

•••

A few hours ago, even though it was way past curfew, sleep eluded you and you couldn't shake off your restlessness. Tired of tossing and turning in bed, you decided to stop fighting your insomnia. You quickly penned a message to your boyfriend and sent it off with your owl: « Meet me at the astronomy tower. Love, y/n. »

As you made your way through the slytherin corridor, you couldn’t ignore the sounds of a woman’s moans emanating from Draco’s dorm as you passed by. Rolling your eyes in annoyance, you realized that Draco may have found himself new company for the evening, a revelation that left you feeling a mixture of frustration and disappointment. Nevertheless, you cleared your mind and navigated from the dungeon to the astronomy tower. As you ascended the stairs of the tower, your heart sank when you discovered your boyfriend was already there. However, he wasn't alone. You watched in disbelief as he embraced Cho Chang from behind, their gazes fixed upon the stars, exchanging tender kisses on her neck. Frozen in place, you let out a silent gasp. It felt as though your heart shattered into a million pieces, as if the entire sky had come crashing down upon you.

Lost in their own world of love, they didn’t even notice you standing there behind them. Feeling utterly humiliated, you swiftly turned on your heels, unable to bear witnessing any more of their intimate moment. You lacked the strength to confront them in that moment of raw emotion, deciding to save it for when you had regained your composure. Struggling to contain your anger and resisting the urge to hex those mf, you can’t help but fall on tears. During your seemingly endless journey back, you couldn’t help but connect the dots: the sudden change in his behavior towards you, the discomfort evident in his expression whenever his friends referred to you as his « slytherin girlfriend » —something he always seemed uneasy about— and his newfound eagerness to attend ravenclaw parties.

As anger slowly gave way to overwhelming sadness and humiliation, you found yourself passing Draco’s dorm again in the slytherin corridor on your way back to your own. The temptation to knock and fall in tears in the arms of your (ex) best friend was strong. Deciding it wasn't the right time for him as well, and fearing rejection and appearing desperate, you continued walking. But a sudden change of heart made you turn back. Whatever he was doing you needed to see him, even if you weren’t entirely sure why. With a heavy heart, you knocked on the door, sniffling as you called out « Dray, it's me... I didn't know if you are asleep or alo-». Before you could finish your sentence, the door swung open abruptly, revealing Draco standing before you, shirtless. He didn’t even take the time to greeted you, immediately sensing your distress « What's happened? And who did it? » his eyes filled with concern and anger. Tearfully, you admitted « Cedric cheated on me ». His jaw and his fist clenched as he widened the door, inviting you inside. Stepping into his fancy and perfectly tidy room, Draco offered surprisingly calm « Do you want me to hurt him? Say one word, and I'll break his fucking nose with my bare hands » standing right in front of you. Despite your pain, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly « No, that's not why I came here ». Confused, he asked, furrowing his eyebrows « So, why did you came here? ».

You replied with confusion « Actually, nothing… I just wanted your company, I guess ». Draco remained silent, his gaze fixed on you as you pondered the situation « But, you know what, that’s stupid. Forget about it… » you trailed off, already turning to leave. Draco quickly grabbed one of your wrists, his voice barely above a whisper « You knocked on the right door, darling » He guided you to the bed and settled against the headboard. « Come here » he said softly, patting the space beside him, one arm open, a clear invitation to cuddle. You joined him, feeling utterly miserable and convinced he must pity you. However, Draco felt nothing but pity. Pity wasn’t something he often felt. Right now he feels anger primarily directed at Cedric, a slight frustration towards you for not heeding his many warnings that « Cedric is a dick », a layer of guilt and regrets for not admitting his feelings earlier, that might have spared you this pain, and sadness because he knew you felt it too. But never pity.

You leaned into him, seeking comfort in his strong embrace as he wrapped his arms around you, creating a safe haven. « He never deserved you » he whispered softly, not to confort you but because he genuinely meant it. Chuckling lightly, you admitted « You might be right… whatever, losing him isn’t what’s tearing me apart right now ». Draco raised an eyebrow in curiosity « What then? ». You sat up on one elbow and meet his gaze « It’s the fact that he cheated and moved on to someone else like she’s some upgrade. And now she’ll think it too. I’ll have to see her smug face every day at school, knowing she thinks she’s got something more than me. » Draco’s eyes widened in disbelief, a scoff escaping his lips « So, you’re telling me you’re not upset about losing him, but because your ego’s been bruised? That’s some next-level stuff » he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. You couldn’t help but laugh at his straightforward take « Yeah, it does sound a bit self-centered, doesn’t it? Maybe I didn’t love him as much as I thought… It’s his loss, anyway. » you declared with newfound confidence. He grinned at your words, knowing that if it was Cedric’s loss, it was undoubtedly Draco’s gain.

You resign yourself to the realization that Cedric and you weren’t a real match. How could you be, when just being near Draco makes you almost forget the entire cheating affair? And then there’s the way your heart races when he gently caresses your arm to comfort you. You used to believe your relationship with Cedric worked because you were distanced from Draco. But deep down, you always knew that Cedric would never be Draco… And now, you feel a sense of guilt and sadness, questioning whether your heart will forever belong to him, even if he didn’t want it back… Little did you know, he wants it more than anything in the universe.

Only a few seconds passed before he retorted, his touch gentle as he brushed your hair back « She’ll never be half of you, it’s indeed his loss » he said softly, pausing to take a deep breath as you closed your eyes and started to relax in the arms of your bestfriend, relieved that your friendship remained intact. « I would have treated you so much better than he could’ve ever » he mumbles in a sigh, but loud enough for you to heard it.

Unbeknownst to you, Draco’s heart raced almost as fast as yours. Internally, he berated himself for letting his true feelings slip. You couldn’t believe you heard him correctly. « Wha-what did you just say? » you stammered, your eyes widening in surprise. Draco looked at you for a moment before closing himself like an oyster « Nothing » his demeanor turning cold as he avoided your gaze. But you refused to let it slide, too shaken by his confession to simply move on « No, Dray, did you just insinuate… » you trailed off, needing an explanation. « You heard me right. I insinuated that I could be a way better boyfriend for you than that fucking wimp » his tone almost bitter, though you were too preoccupied to pay much attention to it. You knew Draco well enough to recognize his defense mechanism—he got angry when he felt vulnerable. « What do you want to mean by that? » narrowing your eyebrows in confusion. « It’s not the proper time or place to talk about it. Just forget it » He replied harshly, waving his hand dismissively. But you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily « No no, you’re not going to brush this off like you usually do. Answer me, please. » it was more an order than a demand, if you haven’t add the “please”.

He gazed deeply into your eyes, as if he wanted to peer into your soul. There was a moment of profound silence that stretched on for what felt like an eternity, until he finally clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and began to speak. « It’s fucking clear as day, y/n. » he started, his voice tinged with frustration « I’ve had bloody feelings for you for years. Everyone obviously saw it except you! ». Your jaw dropped at his revelation, your hands trembling and you feel yourself sweating. « Saw what? You never mentioned anything about it…» you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. He clenched his jaw again, clearly irritated by the situation—not by you, but by the prospect of voicing his feelings aloud, the uncertainty of potentially losing you after this confession, and above all, the discomfort of facing vulnerability, a feeling he despised.

« Well, they saw the way I complimented you every time I saw you... the way I am so fucking protective over you... the way I always wanted to be around you and spent time with you... » he paused, his voice softening as he leaned in closer « the fucking way I look at you.. does that help you understand this better? » You froze for a moment, unable to comprehend the gravity of his words. The earlier events with Cedric and his new girl seemed like a distant memory now. It took you a good minute to process what you had just heard, during which time Draco was the most nervous he had ever been, anxiously awaiting your reaction.

Suddenly, you buried your head in your hands, loudly exclaiming to yourself « I’m so fucking stupid! ». Draco couldn’t quite comprehend your reaction, but he couldn’t bear to see you overwhelmed like this. Instantly, he was overcome with a too familiar feeling: guilt. He couldn’t shake the thought that his sudden admission of feelings had caused you such distress that you didn’t even want to look at him anymore. Leaning closer, he enveloped you in his arms, his hand rubbing your back soothingly as he asked with a worried voice « What’s wrong darlin’? Talk to me ». You raise your head to meet his gaze, the distance between your faces now mere inches. Unsure of how to express yourself, you finally admitted « I didn’t know where to start… but I kinda feel the same way about you… for awhile now…». At that moment, Draco couldn’t discern if it was a bloody prank of you or a genuine revelation, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. All he knew was that he had been waiting to hear those words from you for ages, losing his mind by imagining it during his sleepless nights, and now it was finally happening. He couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. With one finger, he gently lifted your chin and leans closer to you, not uttering a word, stopping himself less than a inch from your lips, a silent invitation awaiting your consent. Your body erupted in a flurry of sensations like a fireworks, your brain struggling to work properly due to the proximity to him, the intoxicating scent of his cologne which overwhelms you and the warmth of his minty breath on your lips. Yet, despite the chaos in your mind, you managed to understand his silent request and responded with a subtle nod.

Without wasting a single moment, he pulled you into a soft yet hunger-filled kiss. One hand gently rests at the back of your neck, deepening the embrace, while the other tenderly leans on your waist. Your wrists found their place on his shoulder, keeping him close. Your lips moved in perfect sync for a few seconds, as if they were made for each others. Neither of you wanted to break the kiss, savoring every moment of the electrifying connection between you. As he leaned back onto the bed, still kissing you, you found yourself almost hovering over him, lost in the intensity of the moment. When you were finally forced to pull away to catch your breath, he gazed at every feature of your face for a few precious seconds before breathlessly murmuring « Be mine, darling » You met his gaze with eyes sparkling with affection and whispered in return « I’ve always been yours, Draco ».

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