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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Change of Heart ( TaehyungxOC) (Chapter 6)

Pairing : Taehyung x OC Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5

[ Summary :

Times are changing.

After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all…..

He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first. ]

Warnings : Get ready for the unsexiest sex in the history of sex. werewolf sex, knotting etc

You can completely skip this chapter if it makes you uncomfortable .

Literally nothing happens except that they mate.

Chapter 6

“Luna is staying with Jimin for a week. Jimin’s sister and her kids are home so he’s sure she’ll be fine.” Taehyung said, when I asked him about the young girl.

I nodded, slightly disappointed because I loved her and was looking forward to seeing her.

Although I suppose he probably didn’t want her to be around when he was doing....well whatever it was that he intended to do to me. I felt my pulse raise, the first tendrils of fear and panic beginning to weave through my veins.

“You look terrified.” Taehyung commented mildly, fingers curled gently around my elbow as he led me to where his car was parked. I swallowed.

“I am terrified.” I pointed out.” I have no idea what I just agreed to.”

Taehyung hummed, fumbling with his car key and a second later the lights in a swanky black car , a little bit ahead of us, flashed with a familiar beep. Taehyung’s car looked as expensive as it probably was, black and sleek .

“Is this the car you choose anytime you’re seducing unwilling humans?” I teased.

I stared at the glossy metallic finish, the swanky lights that lit up along the car’s sharp and beautiful lines and my eyes caught the small exquisitely detailed silver wolf, carefully mounted on the bonnet.

“Hmm....no one has been unwilling , so far.” Taehyung’s eyes danced with mischief.

I rolled my eyes at that, handing over my carry-all bag when he held his hand out for it.

“This isn’t what I would have chosen for myself.” He moved to open the boot space, lifting the small suitcase I’d packed and stowing it inside carefully.

I stared at him wondering what he was talking about.

“Someone like you...for a mate.” He pointed out and I wondered if he even heard the insult .

“Someone like me for the rest of your life?” I gave him a dry smile.

He closed the boot sharply, the sound making me jump a little.

His gaze was intense, lush lips twisted in a frown.

“A human ...for the rest of my life.” He corrected. I felt a pang of hurt at that. It was somehow worse, knowing that I was just interchangeable with every other human of his acquaintance . He moved closer to me, reaching past me to touch the sensor on his key to the door.

The door opened when he touched the handle, arms brushing my body as he leaned in close to me and I flinched back instinctively..

He gave me a look.

“Sorry...I’m just a little on edge.”

He sighed.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice was steady and firm , his gaze calm and soothing as he stared at me and for the millionth time, I found myself utterly enthralled by his beauty. The perfect , sharp as a blade jawline, flawless skin and sharp, bewitching eyes.

“I think.... you know that’s a lie.” I smiled a little. He had the good grace to look a little contrite. He stepped back a bit to give me space to get in.

“It’s not a lie.”

I tilted my head and stared at him.

“Really? You’re telling me a human mating a wolf isn’t going to do a number on the human? ”

Taehyung frowned, thick eyebrows furrowing.

“It’s not going to leave any permanent damage.”

I let out a slightly strangled laugh.

“How comforting!”

Taehyung shrugged.

“ It is how it is. Mating is..... an ancient ritual. Something that we’ve been doing for centuries. At the heart of it, it is something animalistic and feral because it isn’t the human part of me that’s going to be involved. And my wolf isn’t familiar with being gentle. I can’t promise he won’t hurt you but I can promise that I will help fix what he breaks.”

What he breaks, I thought with a slightly hysterical flash of trepidation. His wolf was going to break ....what exactly?

He must’ve caught the look on my face.

“I think I could have worded that better.” He muttered.

My tongue felt like sandpaper in my mouth.

“I’m just wondering if perhaps , a week from now, I’m going to prefer being shot in the shoulder, to having sex with you.” I croaked out.

His lips quirked at that.

“Not unless being shot in the shoulder gave you multiple orgasms.....no.” His eyes flashed red, boring holes into mine and my lips parted in a soft gasp.

Arousal shot straight through my center, hot and heavy and I felt the blood rush to my face so abruptly that I was momentarily lightheaded. Feeling a bit like there was steam gushing out of my ears, I dropped my gaze away from him, down to his knees and then turned away, face flaming.

I moved to the open door, ready to climb in hide but Taehyung moved quickly, gripping my arm and pulling me around till I crashed into his chest.

“Tae-” I broke off when he reached out to gently cup my face, thumb brushing across my lower lip in a gentle caress.

“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, smiling gently, “ I find you incredibly desirable and I intend to show you that when you’re in my bed. The fact that my wolf also approves of you will only make the whole thing more enjoyable for you. Trust me, I’ve never had any complaints before.”

Certain that I was probably the same shade as a ripe tomato, I yanked my hand away from him, turning around and stumbling to the door. I got into the car quickly, slamming the door shut. I could hear him chuckling lightly outside as he finished putting away the rest of my bags.

I tugged on the seatbelt with shaky fingers, trying not to overthink. I felt torn, confused. Like he was toying with me. He was so carefully vague about what he wanted and what he felt , it was impossible to understand him. I watched the seat belt click into place and the sat back to stare straight ahead.

The driver’s door opened and Taehyung climbed in, powering the vehicle and slipping his belt on in one smooth move before letting his fingers play across the backlit dashboard. Soft music began crooning through the speakers and he carefully adjust the mirrors manually before gripping the steering wheel and carefully easing the care out of the parking lot.

“We’ll pick up a few supplies on the way.” He commented mildly.

“Supplies?”

“Medical supplies.”

I felt my pulse jump again.

“I’m beginning to regret this immensely.” I whispered, fingers digging into my thigh as I willed myself to not scream.

Taehyung turned to give me a look.

“you do know, I’d have to bite you, right?”

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“I...you... what?!”

Taehyung groaned.

“please don’t freak out. “ H’s voice deepened, probably in an attempt to be soothing, “ It’s just a small bite. It won’t be that deep or anything but it will leave a mark. It’s supposed to. Kind of a sign that you’re mated.”

I stared at him , dread pooling in the pit of my stomach and making me feel mildly nauseous.

“Would it.. Would i... ?” I couldn’t even finish it.

Taehyung looked confused for a second and then his face went completely blank.

“No.” He said shortly.

“No, I -?”

“No, you won’t turn into a fucking werewolf, Jesus Christ” He snapped furiously,” Do you really think I’m gonna turn you into a were without your fucking consent? “

I felt myself sinking back into the plush leather seat in the face of his anger.

The air was heavy with a tense silence for a few minutes and then he sighed loudly, breath leaving him in an exhale.

“I’m.... I’m sorry. I know this is frightening for you and I’m grateful that you’re here. I want... Fuck. I want to make this... good for you. And if not good at least ...bearable. “

I stared down at my shoes.

“I’m just... I feel scared because I don’t know what I’m walking into.”

I looked up when the car slowed down and I noticed he was pulling into the parking lot of an all night mart of some kind. I watched as he carefully pulled in between two smaller cars .

“You wanna come in with me? Or would you rather wait here?” He asked casually.

“I’ll...I’ll stay here.”

He hummed and kept the air conditioner and the music running , moving out of the car . I watched him leave , his tall suave figure earning him dazzled looks from the people in the parking lot.

I watched as nearly every single woman in the place ogled him, taking in the perfectly tailored slacks, the silk shirt and his striking good looks. He looked a little rakish today, having run a hand through his hair earlier and even from a distance, there was no doubting that he was one of the most gorgeous men in the entire country.

And no one in their right mind would think he was anything but an alpha, I thought balefully, watching the way he stalked across the tarmac, his gait predatory and focused. People stepped out of his way instinctively. No one met his gaze head on and I knew exactly why.

Staring at Taehyung was like staring down an apex predator.

Even the dumbest of men wouldn’t be dumb enough to provoke someone who looked like that.

i caught my own reflection in the mirror and felt myself shrink in on myself.

I wasn’t ugly.

Far from it.

I could even be beautiful if I had a couple of hours and access to some good beauty products. But I wasn’t werewolf level beautiful. I couldn’t think of a single quality in me that would qualify me to be Kim Taehyung’s significant other. I remembered the model he had been dating, Ji hyun. She had been so beautiful. Tall and lissome with perfectly sculpted features.

in what world could I compete with that?

And What about.... the emotional connection?

I groaned at the very though of it.

Love was such an abstract thing to define but I wasn’t a cynic. I could imagine myself being in love with Taehyung, falling for him and in fact, I was pretty sure that I was already half way there already.

I had wanted him to be interested in me when he had asked me to look after Luna. Had wanted that hot and heavy gaze on me, had wanted him to touch me, with less than pure intentions. But it had still been just a crush, albeit a big one.

Back then, I had convinced myself to forget about it because of the sheer impossibility of it ever happening. But now, my traitorous heart was beginning to whisper little phrases of hope at me.

What if he likes you too....

What if he fell in love with you too....

I had to tamp down that voice before it grew any louder, I thought miserably. Did I not remember how he had looked, when he’d asked me to come with him? Like he was being held at gunpoint?

The door clicked open again and I blinked. Taehyung opened the rear door and tossed a few bags on the seat there before the slamming the door shut and climbing in next to me.

“I’ve asked the house keeper to stock the pantry and get the rooms cleaned. The staff won’t be around for a week so I would have to make sure it doesn’t get too filthy.”

“I can help... to cook and clean.” I said quickly.

He hesitated before smirking a little.

There was something feral in the smile, something lewd and suggestive and I felt myself blushing although I had no idea why.

“What? Why are you looking at me that way....”

He shrugged.

“I just think its cute that you think that.”

I frowned, not at all sure what he was implying.

“What does that even mean? What am I thinking that’s so ridiculous.?”

“It cute that you think that you can still move around after getting fucked by an alpha werewolf on his rut. “ His eyes fairly danced with amusement and I felt my jaw drop.

“You- That's- “ I was momentarily incoherent with how much his words had scrambled my brain, “ ... ...How dare you!” I finished in a hash whisper.

He laughed out loud at that.

“I’m supposed to be selling this whole mating thing to you . I think I’m doing a bad job of it.” He shook his head, before starting the engine again.

I didn’t reply, my cheeks hurting from the effort it took not to scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I held the bags carefully, while a couple of young men carried over my suitcases into the elevator. Taehyung was leaning on the counter at the reception desk and the girl behind the desk was making moon-eyes at him.

"Mr. Kim, we’ve already spoken to the other residents. The penthouse suit if off limits for the rest of the week as you requested. Your daughter’s nanny was here earlier and she said she’ll bring Luna back when you ask her to.”

Taehyung nodded.

“Excellent. This is my fiance, Yoon Mi Rae.” He said casually and I flushed at the phrase.

“Oh, fiance?” The woman made no effort to hide the disappointment and disbelief on her face. I smiled weakly.

“Yes. Surprised?” He chuckled and I frowned when the girl laughed too.

“Never thought you would go for a human, Tae.” She tilted her head .

The nickname surprised me. So they were close, then?

“ Sometimes life surprises you that way.”

I sighed, turning away at the words. I tamped down the urge to yell at him that I didn’t particularly savor the thought of being mated to him either. That given a choice I would rather be with a man who actually wanted me.

But that wasn’t why I had agreed to this whole thing was it? Taehyung’s cause was bigger than both of us. My father was doing something illegal and damaging and he had to be stopped.

That was what this was about.

If I lost sight of that bigger picture and focused on the little things, then I would likely be miserable for a long long time.

Little things like the fact that Taehyung had absolute no interest in falling in love with a human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment was spacious and decorated s tastefully that I couldn’t help but stop and stare. It was very obvious that Taehyung had painstakingly picked the decor out himself. A few Van Gogh paintings hung on one of the walls and the entire living space was done in muted tones of beige and also colors of rich mahogany brown with lush red and maroon trinkets for relief.

Taehyung directed the med to leave the suitcases in the master bedroom and then once they left, he carefully closed the door behind them.

I heard the sound of the lock clicking in place and slowly, the dread from earlier returned.

“Do you drink?” Taehyung asked casually, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the couch., I watched him move to the massive fridge in the kitchen, and felt my lips trembling a bit.

“Just- Just water.” I said softly.

He grabbed a few bottles of water and carefully poured me a glass. He looked up then and his gaze caught mine.

Feeling incredibly vulnerable, I merely stared back.

“Are you hungry?” He asked gently.

I shook my head.

He nodded, stepping out from behind the counter and walking over , holding out the glass of water. I took it from him cautiously and took a sip.

“We need to talk about this. I don’t... I don’t want you to be blindsided by anything that happens tomorrow. “

Tomorrow.

“Okay. I’m listening. “ I took a few more sips of the water and he carefully took the glass from me.

I moved to sit on the couch but he stopped me with a hand to my arm.

“Do you dance?” He said casually.

I blinked.

“Dance?”

He smiled and snapped his fingers a couple of times.

I gasped when the lights in the living space dimmed down not turning off entirely but bathing the entire room in hues of gold . The light made him look ten times more enthralling and the soft smile on his face made me want to weep. If I had been half in love earlier, I’d certainly fallen the entire way down in that damned smile.

“I think you should get used to my body first.” He smiled and stepped closer, gently wrapping one arm around my waist before grabbing my wrist and guiding it to his shoulder. I curled my fingers tentatively, feeling my pulse pound at the smoothness of the silk and the underlying strength of his muscles. I brushed my fingers gently against his shoulder blades, stroking down to his pecs and stopping when my palm rested right over his heart.

“You like that?” He smiled, “ Because I certainly do” and there was no hint of teasing there, just genuine pleasure and in the face of such honestly, I couldn’t help but blush.

“You’re.... big.” I finished , feeling my face flame.

He nodded.

“I am. Everywhere. its probably going to be a bit of a problem for you later.” He smiled and pulled a small square remote from his pocket.

Music began to spill into the air from the speakers and I laughed at the song.

“ I was made for loving you” Tori Kelly’s beautiful voice crooned and I shook my head.

“You are good at this, Alpha Kim.” I said softly. “Is this the part where your conquests begin taking off their clothes?”

He hummed and began to move, one hand curving around my waist and the other lightly resting on my back. I swayed with him, enjoying the gentle intimacy.

“I actually prefer doing that myself.” He smirked and I nodded, relaxing a bit. Taehyung was likeable, not an asshole by any stretch of the imagination and surprisingly humble considering the kind of wealth he had at his disposal.

I liked him deeply and while it was obvious he thought he had to handle me like fine china, the truth was I wasn’t even half as scared as I ought to have been.

“You’re pretty calm now. You were..... very would up earlier.” I pointed out.

He hummed, his fingers tracing up and down my back before resting at the base of my spine, thumb gentle as it stroked my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“I can control it easier because you’re right here. My wolf is calm because you’re in my arms. And my rut probably won’t start till I’m ... well , for a few hours at least. “

I nodded.

“How do you know its starting?” I asked, curious.

He gave me a grin.

“Oh trust me you’ll know.” He muttered, pulling me slightly closer till I was pressed right up against his body, hips pressing into me gently. I felt the hard press of his erection and even with the layers of fabric between us I could tell how well endowed he was and I stilled, backing away a little.

“I’m.... Sorry, I...” I whispered.

But he grabbed my wrists, tugging me back gently.

“Don’t apologize. Its alright. You need to get used to me. Like this, I can watch how you react and back off when I want but later...I may not be that coherent. I just want you be comfortable before we start anything. “ He said softly, fingers fluttering down to link with mine.

“Are you saying you won’t stop if i ask you to?”

Taehyung hesitated.

“No...if you’re actually hurting or in danger , I’ll know and I will stop. But my wolf probably won’t stop if its just you getting cold feet and you aren’t in any real danger from me. “

I looked away, not feeling very reassured. The bigger picture, I reminded myself. I wasn’t here for a good time. I was here because he needed me and not the other way around.

Taehyung took my silence for disapproval and gently touched my face, eyes wide with apology.

“I’m sorry.” He said calmly, “ Wolves have....different moral codes and that's probably why its incredibly rare for a wolf to mate with a human.”

“What do you think happened with us?” I asked him, “ You obviously need a were in your life. So why did your wolf pick me?”

He didn’t reply.

“Is this permanent?”

“For me, yes. For you, no.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you leave here , you can go back to your old life. You can probably meet another guy and get married if you want. I however would not be able to have another relationship...”

I felt my jaw drop.

“That’s....” i began but he shook his head.

“It’s alright. I’m not a huge fan of relationships. I have my work and Luna. My life is complete as is.”

There was nothing much to say to that.

“You wanna go to bed now?” He asked quietly .

I smiled at how nervous he looked.

“Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung’s bedroom was almost surgical suite clean and also incredibly huge. The large four poster bed had huge ornate frames and I felt my eyes redden when I saw the handcuffs neatly cuffed to the lowest rung.

Taehyung followed my gaze and smiled.

“Ah. Thats just a precaution.”

“you want to put me in handcuffs?” i blurted out and he laughed.

“No...I’ll be the one in the handcuffs. When I’m knotting you, my claws are going to pop and I don’t want to hurt you accidentally. The handcuffs will make sure that my hands stay off you.”

“Okay.... “

He moved around the room, casually fixing the lights , turning most of them off and leaving only a couple of lamps near the bed on.

“Would you like to shower?” He prompted. “ I bought... well, there's a nightgown in the bathroom that you could wear. Only if you want to .... No pressure.”

Nightgown?

I nodded and moved to the attached bath .

“the towels are in the cupboard.” He called out behind me when I closed the door.

I stared around at the bathroom which was almost as large as the living space. A bathtub stood in the corner and it looked large enough to hold three people comfortably. A shower stall stood on the left and I quickly stripped out of my clothes and moved to the shower.

The buttons took a little time for me to figure them out but the hot water on my body was a welcome relief. The water helped loosen my muscles and the slight twinge in my shoulder was almost fully gone.

I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and noticed the white box , tied together with a satin ribbon. I opened it carefully half expecting something scandalous.

It wasn’t.

I pulled out the plain white cotton nightgown, and it looked especially fragile.

Confused but willing to indulge him, I slipped it on quickly, brushing my teeth and fluffing my hair before stepping out.

Taehyung was half naked on the bed and I froze near the bathroom. He was wearing just a pair of boxers which did nothing to hide his arousal.

“You alright , sweetheart?” He said gently and the nickname made my teeth hurt.

“Umm...yeah. So...we’re just doing this then?”

“I think its starting...” He said tiredly.

I startled.

“You said... I thought it was tomorrow..?”

“Guess the guy doesn’t wanna wait that long.” Taehyung muttered tiredly and his eyes flashed red.

But it didn’t fade back to chestnut brown, the way it usually did.

Instead the irises stayed red, like a ruby , glinting across the distance between us as he stared me down. .

I could feel the hysteric fear beginning to build and I fought to keep it down. It was okay... He was an Alpha and so his eyes flashed red... that’s all. Jungkook’s eyes had flashed red plenty of times when we were together.

“Come here.” He patted his lap.

“Okay. “ I squeaked.

Feet leaden, I walked over to the bed , climbing over carefully and then scooting across the clean white sheets to reach him. i stayed kneeling near him.

He was staring at me expectantly.

“Oh, you want me to sit there?” I pointed at his lap.

He looked amused.

“If it isn’t too much of a bother.” He said primly.

Stop acting like its your first time.

I yelled at myself internally before throwing one leg over his thighs, raising myself up to hover over him. Taehyung grabbed the back of my thighs. gripping me hard through the flimsy night gown and yanked me forward till I was seated right on his hardness.

I grabbed his shoulders to steady myself, staring down into his red eyes as he smiled, a slow calculating grin.

"You're beautiful. I had more than my fair share of dirty dreams about you when we first met." He confessed softly, and I felt pleasure bloom inside me at the shallow compliment. Whatever, no compliment was bad if it came from a guy like Taehyung.

“I’m sure anyone who meets you has the same compulsion,” I pointed out and he chuckled.

“I wanted to talk to you about tonight. It isn’t because I want to scare you but because I don’t want to blindside you when it happens. Humans aren’t built to take a knot. They just aren’t. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you haven’t tried anything ....along those lines before?” He asked carefully.

I shook my head.

“The only were I’ve slept with is Jungkook and he never-”

Taehyung snarled, so sudden and uncalled for that I nearly toppled over. A ripping sound near my waist made me balk, and I stared down at my side, where one incredibly sharp claw had popped , tearing cleanly through the fabric of the nightgown.

“fuck... I’m sorry... Are you okay?” He whispered urgently, the claw retracting and I could only cling to him, shaking a bit.

“Um....” I stared at him and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead like he’d run a mile. I realized he was struggling to control his wolf, eyes flashing red intermittently. “ Are you alright, Tae?” I asked him, pressing a palm to his chest . He grabbed my wrist before pressing a kiss to the inside of it.

Taehyung gave me a strangled smile.

“Perhaps, you shouldn’t mention other wolves you’ve slept with when you’re with me,” He suggested and I felt my head swim.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve always thought possessiveness is a pathetic thing to feel for someone but unfortunately as an alpha it pretty much defines my wolf.” He grimaced.

I reached out, carefully tracing my thumb across his forehead, dabbing up a bit of the sweat gathered there before wiping it on my gown.

“I’m sure you have other redeeming qualities.” I shrugged , grinning and he smiled in return, hands coming up to gently cup my face leading me down for a soft kiss.

The pillowy softness of his lips completely threw me off and I moaned into the kiss, one arm hooking around his neck so I could kiss him better. He tasted heady and minty and altogether delicious, tongue tracing the seam of my lips before slipping in.

There was something incredibly gentle about how he kissed, so at odds with how he behaved when he let his wolf take over and the dichotomy of it was so fascinating to me.

Kim Taehyung with his soft subtly seductive words, his gentle touches and patient kisses was also Alpha Kim, the wolf with ruby red eyes, blood lust and violence in his gaze when he was threatened.

When he pulled back I was panting and almost in a trance.

“I wanted to help you get through tonight without being too hurt. Is that okay?”

I gave him a bemused smile.

“No, I’d rather you put me through immense pain.” I said drily.

His eyes narrowed at the sarcasm, and he lightly spanked my thigh. I flinched at the sharp pain, gone before I could fully process it but the delicious heat from the impact stayed, thrumming under my skin.

“Vixen.” He growled.

I quieted down, watching him expectantly.

“Why don’t you lie down?” He gave my hips a small squeeze.

I quickly climbed off him, sinking into the mattress and carefully lying down .

“I’ll be back. Give me a second.”

I watched as he carefully climbed off the bed , my gaze drawn to his naked back, the strong width of his shoulders and the way it tapered to his waist. The silk of his boxers left nothing to the imagination and I had to look away, gripping the sheets and breathing evenly through my nose just to curb the urge to whimper.

Muscle memory is a hell of a thing, I thought desperately, feeling my thighs begin to tingle. Naked man, dim lighting and bed equaled sex in my mind and my body was responding easily to the atmosphere and Taehyung’s gorgeous body was just an added bonus.

He grabbed something from the cupboard and a bottle from the dresser and I stared, curious as he made his way over.

“Have you ever dabbled with ....bdsm?” He asked casually , tossing the bottle up and catching it easily. I stared at his long , long fingers, the way they looked, gripping the surface.

I felt myself flush from the top of my head all the way down to the soles of my feet.

“Uh... A couple of times. I was really young.” I said hastily. “ He was...uh..well he was older and...”

“Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t want you to get scared. You’ve been in subspace then?” He was making his way over and I could feel nervousness build. It took a me a second to process what he’d just asked.

I hesitated.

“It... I was too scared to fully let go..” I admitted. “ I fall easily and it terrified me because I didn’t fully trust him .”

Taehyung hummed, moving closer to me and carefully placing a strip of black cloth on the pillow next to my head. He dropped the bottle on the mattress and knelt on the edge, next to me, stroking the hair back from my face and smiling.

“I understand. Do you feel that way with me, too? If you do, we can think of some other way to do this. “

I felt my eyes flutter shut at the gentle touch of his fingers.

“I trust you.” I said softly.

He nodded.

“It’s nothing intense , I swear. I just want to blindfold you. And then maybe a little bit of impact play...i noticed you liked that....” His lips quirked.

I blushed , nodding. He picked up the dark strip of cloth, stretched it between his fingers, testing the give of the material.

“The blindfold is going to help keep you grounded. No distractions, yeah? I want you to follow my voice and feel my touch, don’t think about anything else ....is that clear?”

I nodded.

“Words, angel.” He said gently.

My toes curled at the endearment.

“Uh... Yes.”

“Yes, sir.” He corrected gently.

I felt my body run hot and cold all at once, lips parting and throat going dry.

“S-Sorry?”

Taehyung chuckled gently and I jumped when he gently placed the blindfold over my eyes, the world dissolving in black before me as he carefully tied the strip behind .

Once it was secured, I felt the gentle touch of his finger across my cheeks.

“It’s not just about you tonight, is it, pet?” His voice had dipped lower, the drawl more pronounced. “ Don’t you think I deserve to feel good too?”

I almost sat up , nervous and jittery because I couldn’t see him and I startled when cool hands gripped my waist and shoulder, holding me down.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

I swallowed.

“Nothing.. I... I’m sorry. “

“Colour?”

I blanked out for a second.

“Red for stop, yellow if you want me to slow down and green if you’re okay to continue, angel.” He said gently.

I nodded again.

“Words, angel. I need you to use your words at all times.”

“Yes...” I whispered.

“Yes?” He prompted.

“Yes sir.” I answered quietly.

“Good girl.” He whispered and I felt the light touch of his lips against mine. I felt my breathing even out at the gentle caress. Fingers fluttered over my hand and I felt him gently loosen my grip on the sheets.

He gripped my wrist gently and moved it over my shoulder.

“I want your hand over your shoulder at all times. Can you do that for me? If you can’t , I can restrain them for you.”

I was already moving them down almost unconsciously. He hummed, pulling my wrist back up and I flushed. I wasn’t going to be able to do that.

“Please ..tie them up for me.” I whispered.

He didn’t reply and I felt him move away , my body suddenly cold from his absence , and I took deep steadying breaths. I felt myself relaxing against the covers, lips parting as I stopped trying to hold my hands up, just letting them rest on the pillows , limbs loose.

The touch of something silky to my wrists, made me jump, but fingers pressed my hips, stroking gently.

“Shush....its okay , baby. Let me just take care of you, yeah?” Taehyung’s voice came from right near my ear and I exhaled.

“Yes sir.” I whispered and he laughed softly, the sound mellifluous against my lobe.

“Now you’re learning. ” He pressed another kiss to the corner of my mouth, lips slightly wet and forceful as he breathed , “ Good girl.” and I felt the words all over me, like euphoria in my veins, spreading to every part of me.

It was blissful, the way warmth spread through me, my limbs going lax as I felt him carefully tie my wrists to the bed post, the thought if tugging on them didn’t even cross my mind.

All I wanted to do was to stay here forever, my head clear and thoughts practically nonexistent. It was like nothing existed, except for the endless dark I was in and the touch of his fingers on me. The music of his voice as he whispered praise against my skin.

I felt bereft when he moved away but he was back before I could fully miss him.

“I’m going to touch you baby.....Going to make you feel good. Is that okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Perfect.”

I heard the pop of a bottle opening.

I felt the bed dip as he climbed on, kneeling near my legs.

A few seconds later, fingers lightly gripped my ankle, warm and smooth. lifting my foot up and placing it on his lap.

My lips parted in a filthy moan when he dug his fingertips into my ankle, smoothing out the skin and pain blossomed where he squeezed, the muscles protesting as he gently massaged the knots away.

“I’m going to get familiar with your body first.... wanna know what makes you feel good.”

“Okay Tae....” I breathed out.

A sharp spank on my thigh made me jolt in surprise and I gasped, heat licking its way up my leg and making me clench my thighs together . The pain was sharp and stinging and it made my eyes water just a bit.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to call me, is it pet?” He sounded annoyed and I felt myself scrambling to apologize.

“No..I’m sorry ... sir.. I’m...”

“I’m being very patient with you , pet. Next time, I won’t stop with one.”

I nodded before quickly remembering.

“Yes sir.”

He hummed and went back to massaging my feet, first one then the other. I relaxed against the pillows, feeling my eyes grow heavy as he worked his magic on me and time became insignificant.

I didn’t know how long I’d laid there and it was only when his hands moved up, past my knee, across my thighs and then closer my inner thighs that I began to come to myself.

“Can I take your panties off baby....” He whispered, voice hoarse.

I was breathing through my mouth, slightly dizzy.

“Yes, sir.” I whispered. Fingers hooked on the edged of the fabric, tugging my underwear down and off me swiftly. Somehow everything inside me shifted when I felt him against my skin. The soothing pleasure disappeared, replaced by apprehension .

“Beautiful .” He whispered and I swallowed, nervous and scared.

I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come.

“What’s wrong angel? You alright?” He asked urgently.

I swallowed again.

“I’m...Sir... I... what are you... I want...” I couldn’t get my thoughts in order and the panic rose again.

“Its okay baby... tell me what’s wrong?” He whispered gently, and I bit my lips.

“Red.... I... I’m not... I can’t ....”

He moved away at once and a second later, the blindfold came off . i blinked at the dim light and Taehyung was kneeling right next to me, worry clouding his eyes .

“You okay?” He whispered.

“Can you ....on top of me? I’m just.. I feel so cold.” I whispered.

Taehyung smiled, wide before nodding.

“That’s fine. Anything for you...”

The next second, I felt him move on top of me, hot and warm, heavy and firm and solid as he pressed into me. I wanted to touch him, to reach out and grip him and anchor myself because I felt like I was about to float away.

“Should I take the restraints' off?, “ Taehyung read my mind so swiftly , it left me reeling. “ Do you wanna touch me?” He whispered and I nodded.

“Okay... as you wish baby...we’re doing it your way... okay?”

“Okay...sir.”

“You can call me Tae....” He said warmly and I felt myself relax a bit more. He pulled on the restraints quickly and my wrists dropped to the bed t once, my shoulder beginning to throb a little but even the pain was muted, barely there.

He massaged my wrists gently, pressed a kiss to them and I felt affection bloom inside me along with regret.

“I’m sorry...” I whispered.

Taehyung glanced at me in surprise and shook his head.

The first time isn’t going to be perfect. It happens.” He kissed me again, gently but firmly, fingers fluttering down my waist .

“First time?” I grinned. “ Wow I didn’t know I was your first, Alpha Kim.”

“First time with each other , brat.” He lightly spanked my hips and I yelped.

“I’m beginning to think, this whole spanking thing is more for you, than me...” I wrinkled my nose.

Taehyung grinned.

“I prefer paddles and whips actually. “ He said coolly and I felt my heart leap to my throat.

“I-”

“Don’t worry... only with absolutely willing partners.” He winked.

And then he groaned, eyes flashing red.

“Fuck....” He groaned.

“What’s wrong...?” I whispered, worried.

“Can I touch you... I think... It’s ... My wolf... “ He muttered and I smiled wrapping both arms around his next and drawing him down for a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is this okay....? Fuck...” Taehyung grunted and I keened as his fingers slipped in deeper, stroking and searching and I blinked away tears, face pressed into the pillow as I lay face down on the bed. Taehyung was on me, finger fucking me so well that I’d already cum twice and now my limbs weren’t functioning at all.

“Okay...just please....” I groaned when another finger traced my entrance and a sob got wrenched out of me when he dipped it in lightly.

“Doing so well for me baby, taking my fingers so well... Can’t wait to see you wrapped around my knot....gonna claim you and fuck you so well, my pretty , pretty pet...” He pushed the fourth finger in and the stretch made me wail.

Taehyung had a filthy , filthy mouth and everything he said made me want to cry. The stretch of four fingers was too much and I had to grit my teeth, breathe through my mouth just to stay in my senses. I took deep shuddering breaths, willing myself not to start sobbing.

“I’m so sorry... “ He kept apologizing, alternating the push and pull of his fingers with wet, messy kisses along my shoulder. I groaned , eyes heavy as I tried to stay conscious.

“..’s too much...” I slurred, my eyes wet with tears and lashes damp.

“Just a bit more... I don’t wanna hurt you when I... when we ... please baby...just hold on a little yeah...” Taehyung sounded desperate.

I sobbed out in protest when his fingers went in deeper, cleaving my insides and trying to make room where there was none. It went on for a few minutes and then his thumb was brushing my clit, lightly , barely a brush and I was cumming again, clamping around his fingers so hard that I felt like I was crumbling on the inside.

“Okay.... “ Taehyung kept his fingers inside me, soothing me through the tremors., “ I think... It’s okay... I think this should work.” He pressed one last kiss to my shoulder and I made to turn over but he held my shoulders down.

“Let’s do it like this, angel.... It’ll hurt less.” He whispered and then he was pulling his fingers out , spreading my thighs apart so he could lie in between and I whimpered at the emptiness, feeling like I’d stepped right off a cliff , but before I could hit bottom and shatter, he was on me, grounding me, gripping me tight as he pressed his hardness against me.

“You ready?” He whispered.

I managed a weak nod and a second later he pushed in .

It felt a little like being stabbed straight through, only a million times more pleasurable.

And then he was gripping my waist, lifting me up and moving me till I was on all fours, staring at the rungs of his four poster bed. He moved his hips gently, pulling out just a bit before pushing back in and I felt my eyes roll back in my head.

He was so fucking big even the four fingers felt like too little of a stretch.

His hands came around to grasp the lower rung of the bed.

“Put the handcuffs on me .” He said from behind me and I exhaled harshly, trying not to collapse into the bed as I fumbled with the metal restraints. My head felt heavy, my body thrumming with adrenaline and exhaustion and I could feel the messy wetness between my thighs, dripping down the length of my legs and pooling on the soft white sheets.

When the handcuffs had locked both his wrists in place he shuddered behind me. He was so big inside me that I couldn’t even clench down on him, my inner walls stretched so wide around him that I felt like I was inch away from coming apart.

“We’re doing this... any last wishes?”

I smiled despite myself , shaking my head.

“Is it too late to say I don’t put out on the first date?” I choked out and his laughter, warm and inviting flooded my senses, a better aphrodisiac than the hour long foreplay he’d subjected me to.

“Is it too early to say that I want to do this to you, everyday for the rest of our lives.” He whispered and I felt my eyes widen in shock, the confession so unexpected that I actually nearly pulled away from him.

But before I could fully relish what I’d just heard, he was gripping the bed hard and pulling out before shoving right back in.

“Oh, God...” I choked out as he fucked into me, each thrust carefully sharp and strong. He had insane control over his hips, the steady staccato of his body hitting the back of my thigh, loud and incessant in the quiet darkness.

“Touch yourself for me baby..... come on make yourself cum so I can make you mine...” He said harshly and I felt the warm wetness of his lips against my shoulder, kissing and leaving wet trails as he mouthed at the skin there.....and I slipped a finger between my legs , rubbing lightly at my clit , my body screaming in protest because I had long fallen over the edge of overstimulation and this was just too much , too fast now. But I kept my eyes closed, listening to his voice as I gently rubbed circles on the swollen nub at my entrance and when I felt my orgasm hit, my eyes flew open.

“Tae, I’m....” I began , raising my head as I began to clamp down on him . My eyes widened as the hands in front of me transformed, claws popping out from each finger , razor sharp and deadly.

I closed my eyes in terror, a scream getting torn out of me just as Taehyung growled behind me, pushing hard inside me, going deeper than I thought was even possible. The lips at my shoulder moved, pulling back and my eyes flew open in shock when twin pricks of pain bloomed on the junction between my neck and shoulder.

Fear broke through the adrenaline fueled mess of pleasure in my head and I whimpered when he sank his fangs into me, teeth breaking skin without any effort and the hot, warm wetness of my blood as it gushed out of the tear. as right.

Humans did not belong with wolves because this...this was just so effing painful.

And then before I could fully recover from the pain of the bite, I felt him shifting inside me. And then somehow he seemed to be getting bigger, inside me.

“I’m so sorry , baby.” Taehyung whispered, “ Can you get the handcuffs.?”

I pulled on the safety in the handcuff and he pulled his hands away, gripping my waist and lightly turning me over till I was on my side, panting as he stayed inside me . We lay there, staring at the side wall, him spooning me as he struggled to stay still inside me, because everytime he moved, I whimpered.

“Just a few minutes.... I... I can’t pull out for a few minutes.” He whispered, now licking away at the blood on the bite mark and I couldn’t bring myself to respond because it felt a little like I was being split into two.

“How... how much bigger are you going to get?” I choked out , vaguely aware that he was still cumming inside me that there was so much of it that it was beginning to drip out of me.

Taehyung didn’t reply and I closed my eyes.

The pain was building , now, steady and sure, slowly replacing the pleasure and I wondered briefly if I should have gotten drunk for this. But Taehyung had been very adamant about me being sober.

I flinched when he shifted a little.

“So that’s it then ? We’re werewolf married now?” I choked out.

Taehyung chuckled.

“Yes, we’re werewolf married.” He said gently and moved to touch my face but the movement jostled him inside me and I let out a low keen of pain. Taehyung froze.

“Does it hurt too bad?” he asked worriedly.

I grimaced.

“Not the most pleasant wedding I’ve been to.....But definitely prefer it to getting shot though.” I choked out and he laughed, stilling quickly when I whined at the movement.

“I’m sorry. Don’t worry...Once I can move, i’ll get you the pain killers and I’ll clean the bite mark too. It’s not too bad. Don’t think you’ll need stitches even. “

I blinked back tears as the pain intensified steadily.

I felt my eyes grow heavy , exhaustion slowly seeping in along with the pain.

“I think... I’m gonna pass out.” I whispered.

Taehyung kissed me gently.

“That’s probably your body offering you some respite. You should probably take it up on that offer. “ He whispered and I couldn’t even muster a smile.

Instead I closed my eyes and let the darkness wash over me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Did I really just write 7k of bad porn ? Why yes...yes I did.

Also poor taehyung, my baby really tried to make it good for her :’(

As always comments are love <3 Please show me more love <3 I’m needy.....

#taehyung smut #bts werewolf au #bts werewolf #taehyung werewolf au #bts fics #bts au #bts smut #taehyung fics #taehyung reactions

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch - Part 15

The Darkling x reader

Time was in fact ticking and as minutes went on, your palms got sweatier and your heart never stopped thumping in your chest. Any minute now Aleksander could stroll into your chambers flanked by oprichniki and have you arrested. You had crossed the line and you acknowledged that but there was no other way to do it with him. He was never going to sit down and have a regular conversation with you where he detailed his plans out step by step, even if you said please and begged on your knees.

It was morning now and still no word from Aleksander. You had to return to your boring duties of reading trade agreements and approving Grisha posts at the war fronts, none of which passed the time any quicker. You skipped breakfast and threw on the first kefta that caught your eye, only making sure it wasn't black. A simple summoner blue, to reflect your sullen mood.

A knock on your door caught you by surprise but you opened it anyway to reveal your least favorite Heartrenderer sulking at your doorstep.

'Ivan'

'The General requests to see you'

'He sent his puppy to fetch me, how cute' You open the door wider to let yourself through letting a deep breath go in preparation. Ivan sent you a glare worth a thousand words, something along the lines of I hate you.

'Relax, I'm only jesting'

The walk to Aleksander's quarters was silent. Ivan wasn't the chatty type and even if he was, he probably wouldn't have much to say to you.

As you went to open the grand double doors, he caught your wrist tightly

'Don't lay a finger on him again, or I'll rip your heart from your chest' He warned. Either Aleksander tattled the events that took place yesterday or Ivan was eavesdropping, your gut told you it was the latter.

'I didn't take you as the type to disrespect your elders Ivan' You didn't care to return his tone of voice. He was simply Aleksander's lapdog, not somebody to be scared of or feared.

'Run along now' You dismissed him, watching as he huffed and turned down the hallway.

Aleksander sat at the same desk as yesterday except now he faced you. He was back to his normal self, void of emotion and collected in his embroidered black kefta. You sat down on a random chair, clearing your throat.

'Did you finally come to your senses?' You weren't here for pleasantries or to dance around the subject, you needed answers.

'Of sorts. Yes'

'Get to it then, you have a lot of explaining to do. And remember, I know when you're lying' You tapped the skin above your heart, indicating that he had no way out but to tell truth.

'Ask away.'

'How are you going to weaponize the Fold?'

'Alina. She can let us get through it, I can expand it into the borders.'

'How?'

'The stag. I'll use it to control her powers as well as amplify my own. She won't comply otherwise. ' He's going to use Merzost to control the Sun-Summoner.

'The King?'

'Gradually being poisoned by Ms.Safin. He'll take to being ill when the time comes.'

'You're not going to kill him?' To ascend the throne, the King needs to die.

'In time' You took a quick pause and let the information settle. You still needed to ask the most important question and you feared once he answered it, your heart would break in two.

'Alina.'

'Yes. Alina'

'Is it real?'

He took a sharp inhale and pondered for a quick second while you held yours.

'Not anymore.'

'Anymore?'

'Before you got here, perhaps there was something, But not now. I swear on the Saints. All she is is a key to more power. Everything we've ever wanted lies in our future if we play our cards right Y/N' You were sitting too far away from him, but his hands still itched to reach for yours.

'I'm suspecting there is a downside to all of this'

'I need her to trust me.'

'And the only way to do that is by loving her I assume' You hung your head low when he gave a small nod.

'I wish there was another way. She's young and blinded by her friend Mal to see what's truly happening'

'What if she finds out?'

'We'll cross that bridge when we get to it' He stood up from his seat and kneeled beside you, firmly holding your knees.

'You're not a loose cannon Y/N. I didn't want to tell you because if I told you about Alina, you would seek us out and watch. I don't want you to see me with her' You recognized that everything he said was true, his heart hadn't skipped a beat since you got here.

'I'm sorry for the other night, for what I said. I didn't mean it' Throughout your years with Aleksander, you had witnessed him apologize to you and every time he did, his eyes were the true apology. They reflected his whole soul, bared his deepest emotions to you, and begged for forgiveness with immense desperation in ways that his words couldn't. This was no exception.

'We all say things we don't mean in the heat of the moment' All it took was those simple words for his eyes to wash away the guilt and reappear filled with affection.

'Why didn't you tell me about Zoya?'

He sighed again, resting his forehead against your arm 'I don't know'

'Are you done with her?'

'She was just an outlet Y/N, I truly haven't loved anybody since you. You crowded my dreams and my daily thoughts, do you really think I could move on?' He gave a gentle laugh with an undertone of embarrassment at his inability to get over you.

'I'm flattered'

Although the areas of the future that involved Alina rubbed you the wrong way for many reasons, you were glad to finally know the things Aleksander kept from you. No doubt there were things you omitted that would come up in due time, but you had gone what caused you the most stress.

'Will you finally stop running away from me? I've barely had any time to enjoy your presence' His hand came up to your face, nudging a thin piece of hair away. You melted into his touch, grabbing him by the shoulders and embracing him tightly, forcing both of you to stand. He held you as close, if not tighter.

'I'll do anything you want me to if it means you trust me again' His words stuck in your mind as he spoke against your hair. Your statement must have cut him deep. It hurt you too, you loved this man, you've loved him for more than a century, and being scared to trust him dwindled your memory of him.

You were the first to pull away but only for a second as your lips crashed onto his. It wasn't rough or needy, it was sweet and reflected your love for him. It was the kind of kiss you imagined when you dreamed of him at your weakest; when your dreams were vivid and lucid in comparison to your feverish body as it lay on the brink of death.

'Have you eaten?' He asked as you wrapped your arms around him yet again, not ready to let go.

'Not yet, but give me a minute' You closed your eyes, reveling in his scent and warm touch.

At last, I finally got my hug.

***

It was later on in the day now, you had forced yourself away from Aleksander after breakfast and retreated into your chambers, sifting through documents and pointless papers. You barely read them as you signed away, doing the tedious work Aleksander passed onto you as he focused on the stag. You didn't know much about the animal and willingly chose to stay out of the affair, never really caring for the amplifier. For now, all that it entailed was chasing false leads and ending up at dead-ends. Not your cup of tea.

The Winter fete was coming up and much to your displeasure, you were asked to make sure the Sun-Summoner was up to scratch for her showcase. It was important she makes a good impression on the foreign ambassadors, Ravka needed stronger alliances now that Zlatan was claiming the West needed to break away. He was colluding with the druskelle to capture Grisha, and wherever your Grisha were concerned, you had to get involved.

You realized the measly reports of Alina's progress weren't enough and you had to go right to the source. There wasn't a single part of you that looked forward to stepping into that boiling hut and conversing with the rude woman, but work had to be done.

You took your time walking down, chatting to bystanding Grisha and trying to stall, you really weren't in the mood to be bullied. You didn't bother to knock, you just waltzed in and searched the dark for her hunched figure.

'You again' You could've sworn she appeared out of thin air as her voice carried disgust along the room, it usually did when it came to speaking to you but you stopped caring a long time ago.

'Why are you back, Witch'

With the track record Baghra had with you, the nickname never failed to fuel your temptation to throttle her.

---

Part 16

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1

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themadlostgirl · 3 years

Text

Abandoned (11)

*That took longer than expected. Had to rewrite the beginning like five times cause I hated how it kept turning out. Bleh! But we got it now! Should have the next and final chapter of this mini-fic out soon! Love ya and enjoy!*

~~~

As the years passed I found myself growing even more attached to Neverland. I had called it home for years already but after Peter told me he loved me it felt more permanent. I guess a part of me was always sort of waiting for my father to show up one day and take me away. Worried that he would return and ruin the peace and happiness I had found on Neverland.

He was the last person I had ever loved before he abandoned me. As much as I hated him there would be nights when I’d sit in my hut and his face would come to mind. The sound of his voice singing a lullaby to me that I only half remember. I would sit there simmering in my hatred and feelings of betrayal but down deep in my soul there was a twinge of sadness. Memories that feel more like dreams reminding me that for as angry as I was at him there was a time that I loved him. He was my family. My papa…

But that’s all gone. He left me. Traded me. I have a new family now. I know real love. Unconditional love.

Peter loved me exactly as I was. He never asked me change. He never forced me to do things I didn’t want to do. We had fun together. We told each other everything. He knew my deepest darkest secrets and in turn I was entrusted with his. He held me close and kissed me softly. HIs arms were the safest place I had ever known.

He was patient with me and despite how badly he may have wanted to escalate our intimate relationship he never pressured me. If anything he may have been too cautious but given what he knew of my history I didn’t blame him. I’d rather he be courteous than to just assume he’s okay to take what he wants from me. So when the day came that I knew I was ready I asked him to make love to me. He had been so nervous and I couldn’t help but tease him a bit despite my own nerves. It felt nothing like the first time I had sex. It was so much softer, slower, and all of my partner’s attention was solely on me. It felt like love.

After that first time things got a little intense. We may have made it our mission to christen every inch of the island. Soft and sweet love making in the meadows to hard and rough in caves, there was nothing more we cared about. Peter didn’t even return to camp for an entire week once because we were too wrapped up in one another. His body became as familiar to me as my own.

That isn’t to say that we didn’t drive each other mad either. There were days where I wanted to throw him off a cliff and he wished that I had never set foot in Neverland. For as stubborn as the both of us could be the fights never drove us apart for long. We would come back together and everything would be right with the world until we got annoyed and started another fight.

Through all of it I worried though. From what Peter told me all that time ago, he’s dying. He creeps closer and closer to death and there’s nothing I can do to help him. I ask for details, I ask if there is anyway I can help, and Peter tells me it is not for me to worry about. He assures me he has it all under control. That sentiment loses some of its reassurance when he comes to me shaking and pale as a ghost. It’s always after he visits Skull Rock and looks at the hourglass ticking away his life.

One of these such nights he found me at my camp and held me close for a long while not saying anything. Not that he had to. I just wish there was something I could do to help. I hate seeing him like this.

“My love?” I whispered. Peter sat between my legs with his head resting on my chest and his arms wrapped around me. “You need to tell me if there is some way I can help you.”

Peter sighed. “I told you, my pearl, there is nothing about my situation that you need to worry yourself over. Now be sweet and keep playing with my hair. That is helping immensely.”

“I feel like I should be doing more though,” I carded my fingers through his hair, “I don’t want to just stand idly by while you…” I couldn’t finish the thought. “I want to help you.”

“You already are.” He gazed up at me with those clear green eyes I loved so much, “I don’t need you to fight or search or anything like that. I want you exactly where you are now. I want to know that you are safe here, waiting for me. That is all I need.”

“But--”

“Hush now,” he kissed my palm, “You worry yourself so easily. Things are already in motion. I will be safe and far from death by the end of the week if things go according to plan.”

“What? Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“Because I fear it may stir up painful memories for you. The Truest Believer will be here soon and I have a plan for when he arrives. You are not a part of it and that is how it is going to remain. Do you understand?”

“But I can help!”

“My love, my precious pearl,” Peter smoothed a finger across my bottom lip, “You already are. I want you right here where I know you are safe. Stay here. That is how you will help me.”

“But I could do so much more.”

“I don’t need you to do anything more.” He kissed me gently, “Now please, can you obey me in this one thing? I need you to trust me on this. You do trust me, don’t you, my love?”

“Of course I trust you.” I sighed, defeated, “But you will let me know if you need me to do more, right?”

“Of course,” He laid his head back down.

The night the Truest Believer arrived I didn’t see Peter at all. He told me he would be gone from my side for the majority of the time the Believer was on Neverland. It wasn’t unexpected but the sting of loneliness crept in still.

After the first night without Peter I became restless. Despite Peter’s warning to remain at my camp I decided to take a short stroll through the jungle. There were adults running about somewhere trying to rescue the boy Peter had. It is such a big island though and I know every inch of it. What were the odds that I would run into one of these adults? Still, I strapped my sword to my hip just in case. Adults or not Neverland was still plenty dangerous, especially at night.

I meandered through the jungle with no real destination in mind. Maybe I would go to Peter’s Thinking Tree. It had to be more fun than sitting all alone in my hut back on the beach.

“My young love said to me, ‘My mother won't mind and my father won't slight you for your lack of kind.’ Then she stepped away from me and this she did say, ‘It will not be long love till our wedding day.’” I sang quietly.

“She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair.” A voice from the deepest recesses of my mind answered with a melody as soft as it had been in my dreams. It was not a sound in my head though. It was much too real.

“And fondly I watched her move here and move there.” The foliage parted and in the moonlight appeared a troupe of adults but I only saw the one at the forefront. “Then she made her way homeward with one star awake. As the swan in the evening moves over the lake.”

He took a knee and gazed up at me, “Hello starfish,”

I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out.

My father...my father was standing right in front of me after gods know how many years and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. I just stared at him as my mind went through a million emotions at once.

“Hook?” One of his party asked, a blonde woman, “Who are we looking at here?”

“My daughter,” he answered simply, “I told you I had informants in Neverland.”

“You have a kid?” The other adults looked at him in shock. “You never mentioned that you had a daughter before.”

“Yes, well--”

“What are you doing here?” I said, my voice shaky and choked. All eyes swiveled to me once again. I gazed down at my father as all the sorrow and anger I had been harboring for decades started to boil over.

“Darling,” He reached out for me but I jumped back so he couldn’t touch me. He sighed, “Starfish, I know that what happened in the past must have been a shock but I’m here now. I’m back and I desperately need your help. Then all of this can be undone. Things can go back to what they were before.”

How dare he. How dare he come back. How dare he kneel in front of me and ask for my help. Did he not know? Did he not realize what he had done? How could he come back here after decades and pretend like nothing had happened?

He took advantage of my silence to reach for me again. I was still trying to think of what to say or do when he grabbed hold of my hand. “Starfish,” He whispered the nickname like a plea, “I am so happy to see you again. Please, can you help us? We can get you out of here.”

“No...” I pulled my hand from him. Tears sprung to my eyes and there was nothing to do to stop them. “NO!” I screamed, “No! No! No! No! No!”

“Darling, please--”

“You abandoned me!” I wailed, years of pent up anguish spilling out at once, “You left me here! That is not just a shock! That is not something you get to brush aside like it wasn’t a big deal. You traded me away for your freedom and now you have the gall to come back here and ask for my help?”

“It was a lot more complicated than that--”

“No it wasn’t! You had a choice and you chose your freedom over me! Your daughter! You didn’t even try coming back for me!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what I endured after I was forced to leave you.”

“Forced? You were not forced. You could have told Peter no when he asked you to trade me. You could have kept me and we could have stayed together. We’d be marooned here but at least we would have been together.” I kicked him in the center of his chest so he went falling backwards. The other adults tensed, weapons aimed but no one made a move to stop me as I towered over him.

“And do not tell me that you endured anything like it was a struggle. I spent months alone on the beaches praying that you would return. I cried myself to sleep and pleaded with the universe to send you back to me. When I was finally given a chance to be reunited with you do you know what I found? I found you in a tavern drinking and having a merry time without me. I wasn’t even a thought in your head!”

“Starfish--”

“I am not your starfish! I am not your daughter! You do not get to call me that after what you did. After what you put me through. You betrayed me! You traded me to our enemy and you didn’t even care!”

“I’m here now though.”

“But not for me.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “You knelt before me but it wasn’t with apologies or words of reassurance that you had come to rescue me. No. You returned and asked for my help like you have any right to it. Do not look for me again. Do not talk to me again. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Starfish, please,” He grabbed my arm, “Let me explain.”

“Let go of me!” I tried to pull my arm free.

“Hook, I think you should--” One of the other adults tried to intercede.

“No!” He pulled me closer, “Please, darling, I need you to listen to me. If you just give me the chance to explain then everything will be alright. We’ll get Henry and we’ll leave. You can leave this place and we can be a family again. I know I hurt you but we can still fix this.”

“You are not my family! I want nothing to do with you!” I kicked at him but he held me tighter.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Let go of me!”

“Starfish--”

“PETER!” I screamed. A hand was quickly clamped over my mouth but it was too late. Ominous clouds started to roll in casting the jungle into darkness. One of the adults conjured a ball of fire in her hands, the only source of light as the others strained to see in the dark. I felt a tingle go up my spine and relaxed.

“Get your hands off her.” Peter’s voice growled from the shadows. Father’s grip on me slackened for just a moment and I took the hesitation to rip myself away from him. I could make out Peter’s eyes glinting almost like a cat’s in the darkness and ran for him. He caught me in his arms and smoothed my hair, “Hush now, precious, it’s alright.”

“Pan,” Father barked, “Give me back my daughter!”

“And my son!” One of the women yelled.

“Neither of them are going anywhere. Especially not my Lost Girl.” Peter grinned. His thumb traced over my cheek wiping the tears that had fallen away, “Did the awful man make you cry, my love?”

I nodded. Peter pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Love?” The other man in the group spoke his eyes wide in disbelief. He turned to father, “Your daughter is dating Peter Pan?”

“No…” Father looked horrified as he took in our body language. "My daughter would never--"

"Well she's not your daughter anymore. She ceased to be yours the moment you sent her to me.” Peter held me closer, “And I swear if you try taking her I will gut every last one of you.”

“Remove whatever spell you placed over her!”

“There is no spell. Did you really think that you could leave her here for decades and that she would still be the loyal pirate you had set adrift in a rowboat? I welcomed her to my island as an equal, I made sure she was provided for and looked after. Then in time she welcomed me as her friend and eventually as her lover.” Peter’s smile grew wide with that sadistic edge I loved. “She makes just the cutest noises.”

“You vile bastard!” Father charged at us with his blade drawn and murder in his eyes. The next moment Peter and I were standing on the beach by my hut.

“Was that last comment so necessary?” I asked.

“You can’t blame me wanting to torture him a little after what he did.” Peter chuckled lightly. “But how are you, my love? I told you to stay here. Why did you go wandering?”

“I was bored and lonely so…” I shrugged. My body was still shaking.

Peter sighed and kissed my forehead. “Hush, my love, I can’t imagine what you must have been thinking seeing him again.”

“I said what I wanted to. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough though. I don’t think I can accurately put into words what he made me feel. He could never understand what I endured because of him.” More tears started to slip from my eyes. Peter brushed them away.

“Come back to camp,” He said, “I want to be able to watch over you.”

I nodded, too emotionally exhausted to fight him on this. We drew curious glances when we entered camp. One of the boys I did not recognize and I realized I now had a face to pair with the heart Peter needed. Peter ignored everyone’s whispering and led me to his tent.

“Will you be okay in here?” Peter asked. “If you need me I’ll be right outside.”

“I’m fine.”

“One second,” he left and came back with a canteen and a bowl of food. “In case you get hungry. I also grabbed a couple books from your hut in case you wanted something to do. Do you need anything else?”

“Can you sit here with me for a minute? I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Of course, precious,” He sat down next to me and pulled me into his lap. “You’d tell me if you really aren’t doing well, wouldn’t you?”

“I would.” I buried my face in his neck. “Peter, I don’t know what game you are playing with these adults but if I can I want to be a part of it.”

“You already know why I won’t allow that.”

“Peter,” I fisted a hand in his tunic, “If you have the chance, leave Hook alive.”

“Why should I let that worm breathe after what he put you through?” Peter spat, “I should have killed him the second I saw him trying to take you.”

“No. Leave him alive and leave him to me.” Venom started to drip into my voice, “I want to be the one to kill him.”

---

(Previous) (Next)

#peter pan ouat #ouat peter pan #ouat #neverland #peter pan x reader #peter pan imagine

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uponrightful · 3 years

Note

If this is greater than 500 or been asked before I'm sorry !!

But what about from Wolffe's POV:

“Please. Look at me.” Unencumbered by the modulator, that low voice sounded clearer than ever. Not even in her dreams could she hear that constant burr all the clones had. Especially Wolffe. Weakened by his command, she tilted her gaze up.

The girl broke into a loud sob.

Bi-colored eyes stared deep into hers, searching past her watery eyes with a fierceness that left her hands fumbling for purchase. On anything. Anywhere. And after a few seconds, her heart decided on his face. Her cries deepened, as she pulled herself closer to him. Burying her face to his exposed neck, all in weakness of seeing that beautiful scar over his face. She saw that golden glitter in his eye, and the soft expression she’d dreamt of over and over again. She felt the heat of his skin against her face, bringing her even closer to the lucid dreams she’s spent the past years of life in just to get one more night of feeling him.

“You found me.” She moaned into his neck, releasing fear-filled cries against him. She just hoped it was real. That he was truly back, and not under that evil influence that had terrified

her for so long. “Please, don’t hurt me again.” She pleaded, gripping harshly at the edges of his armor, pulling him impossibly closer despite her fright. “You found me.”

It was too much all at once. His smell, his voice, the sound of his heart, his arms suddenly wrapping tight around her waist as she fell further into him. She remembered that strength, holding her in the early morning hours, securing her to his bare chest like there was nowhere in the galaxy he’d rather be. Protecting her, and silently loving her even while asleep. Now, down on her knees in the snow, it was all she could do to hold onto him. All she knew was that she’d found him. And whatever it was telling her she was safe, this time she was certain she could trust it. Hearing him say speak so softly… it was all she could take.

“I found you Wolffe.”

Their reunion just really got me 😍

Commentary Track for Welcome Company

Copy 500 words -or more- of any of my fics and I’ll give my thoughts/rambles on what was going through my head -or the character’s- when I wrote it!

*Send one in here*

Oh my 🤍🤍 This one makes me so happy 😍😍 Let's get into it!

***

Wolffe hadn't heard Mando'a apart from Rex for years. And even then, Rex wasn't the most habitual with it. Only muttered phrases, or using it as a reassurance of sensitive information when they weren't sure who was listening in. Being Bounty Hunters meant that the pair heard a lot of languages, but nothing sounded quite like Mando'a. They'd met thousands of people traversing the galaxy hunting targets for petty pay-outs, all of them with particular voices, and lilts that set them apart from everyone else. But... there was one voice that Wolffe wanted to hear so badly, listening for her everywhere, all the time.

So when he heard that sweet voice, that soft burr of Mando'a, Wolffe felt like the entire galaxy has stopped spinning. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he felt fearful that it was just another false alarm. That his mind was playing another cruel trick on him for being so kriffing hopeful all this time. But he couldn't chance it, and turned around to see his entire world standing right there before him like she'd never left. Wolffe had spent so long looking that actually seeing Pup felt like a dream. There was a mirage-like effect that kept him from speaking her name, or even realizing that his appearance was probably not a welcome one.

He tried to say something... anything. But nothing but a failed choke could be heard over the blustering snow and wind around them. He saw her flinch, the way her whole body shied away from him then. In that moment he recognized a shocking fear; One that came from seeing a man in armor, and of what they could do when their mind wasn't their own. Wolffe didn't know what to do. He did want to keep her from running, but by the way things were going already, his chances didn't look good. He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but before he could get anything out she utterly collapsed.

"Please don't hurt me."

It cuts Wolffe down to the bone to hear her say those words. They echo painfully in his mind and he feels the weight of his incompetence and broken promises to her fall in a fiery crash all around him. All he ever wanted was to keep her safe... Protect her from the things he'd spent his whole life fighting to ignore and suffering through nightmares because of. Her cries were painful, and attacking his heart in a way that was too excruciating to ignore. Wolffe knew he'd been absent, and he blamed himself wholly, but he couldn't resist from trying to reassure her that he wanted nothing more than to hold her again.

Note: Wolffe is a man of action. He's not good with words, and often they just fail him completely. And when I drafted the first cut of this chapter, I didn't use Wolffe's point of view because I wanted to focus on Pup's first sight of a clone in general. I wanted you to experience that fear alongside her, and although you knew it was Wolffe all along, she doesn't know that. And even if her mind had allowed for it, she still would've been wholly fearful of him anyways.

Note: Wolffe's blame isn't well-founded. He has a skewed idea of what is really his fault and what isn't because he remembers everything he did under the influence of his inhibitor chip. Although he couldn't fight it, Wolffe still holds himself to such a high standard that he honestly believes that he just wasn't good enough to fight against it. This is part of his weakness as a character, and more so as a man in general. He thinks strength is something he has to possess all the time; That showing weakness is a sign of his inability to perform the tasks he was created for. (And aside from loving Pup, Wolffe is very harsh on himself when that standard isn't upheld to the fullest.)

Every movement was deliberately slow. Wolffe could see her terror, and for once in his life, he thought that maybe showing her his face might be the only thing that would put someone at ease. The one part of him that he hated most was the only proof that he was still the man she'd been so kind to love in the first place. The same scar and eye that Pup had so softly fawned over, and loved like it had always been a part of him. Her eyes were bloodshot and overflowing with fat and heavy tears, darting everywhere but at his visor... It broke his heart, and he wanted to help it stop, but she needed this to be done right. And that meant slowly. The second she shied away, Wolffe felt the first pinch of his own emotion beginning to take over. His chest burned and pressure started building behind his eyes. His baby... His precious girl was so terrified that she couldn't bear it.

"Please. Look at me."

Wolffe knew his voice wasn't enough. And his plead was desperate, begging for her to take a chance that she had every right to ignore. But something in him was adamant. Maybe it was knowing that he was this close and it was up to her to decide whether this could go any further, or maybe Wolffe just needed to see her face again. It'd been so long, and he'd not forgotten a single detail, but there was nothing that compared to seeing her somewhere other than his dreams.

It was instant recognition, and Wolffe was utterly torn apart with relief when she lurched towards him. It was galaxy-shattering to feel her hands on him, and see that fear instantly transition into shock that matched his own. Her fingers were frozen, and Wolffe finally began to take in the first signs that Pup was actually not in the best health in that moment. But he couldn't pay proper attention to it with her cold nose and hot panting breath fanning his neck.

She's really here. I can hold her again. I don't have to keep looking anymore... hurting anymore. She's safe. My baby is right where she belongs.

"You found me."

He's been trying not to move too fast, but she's holding onto him too tight; Practically climbing into his lap to get closer. And Wolffe is a patient man, but he can't resist from wrapping his arms around her and hauling her as tight to his chest as he can. She's fucking shaking, from the immense fear and shock, but from this nasty weather that's made her coat almost rock-hard from frozen sweat and body heat. Wolffe knows she's in danger of over-exposure, and now that he's certain she's safe, it takes almost immediately takes priority.

The first thing Wolffe does is cry.

It's not a soft relief of tears, nor is it the quiet kind that soldiers hide beneath their helmet when they're afraid of showing their humanity. These are the kind that hurt. The ones that make your chest feel like it's being cracked open and your head is being pressed by a vice. Wolffe cries like the day his chip was removed; And despite not remembering that day, he couldn't care less that an entire outpost of people are watching him cling to this little woman he's wailing over. It's the rawest emotion Wolffe has ever felt in his life, and for all of the loss and guilt he feels, that's a fucking statement he's not surprised by in the slightest.

Pup is his motivation. She's always been his light at the end of the tunnel, and his reason to keep going when he didn't feel like he could physically do it any longer. He spent his whole life believing that he wasn't worthy of anything good, or wholesome. And right when he's at his lowest, someone -or something- decides that what he needs is a woman with a soft voice and a love for him that is unmatched and limitless. Wolffe clings to that with everything in him, just to have her ripped away again. Now he's holding her. Soothing her at her lowest point, and wondering just what he did to have another second chance and falling apart with gratitude and pure fucking love for this woman because even after all this time she still found it in herself to love him.

So Wolffe cries like never before, because love is the most painful thing he's ever felt before. But he would've have it any other way.

***

Thank you for the request my love 🤍

I tried to focus more on Wolffe here than on my own thoughts while writing. I don't get to write from his perspective often anymore and I really loved getting the opportunity to do so! So thank you for letting my give Wolffe some much-deserved love!

#welcome company #commander wolffe #wolffe #pup #commentary track #uponrightful #uponrightfulwrites

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deadpcnned · 4 years

Text

the gamble of the heart | chapter 2 (r.l.)

chapter two: repression

series masterlist

previous chapter

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: y/n pursues her relationship with mason and sees the repercussions on remus. and herself.

warnings: swearing, kissing, alcohol

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: new chapter! the next chapter is shorter so i’ll have it up sometime this week.

“Stop,” Y/N drawled, but she made no effort to move the arms that were holding her in place. “I should probably say hello to my friends.” As Y/N used her fingers to comb through Mason’s blond locks, she couldn’t help the content smile that fought its way onto her face.

“Probably - but I think I’ll miss you too much,” Mason mumbled against her lips. Y/N knew if she let him kiss her she would never get the chance to even glance at her friends. There was just something about Mason that drew her towards him. It was like whenever Mason Tomlinson was in question, Y/N was physically being pushed towards him and she would find herself doing things she’d never expected. It was a wonder to her how she fell for him as quickly as she had.

There was no doubt that Mason Tomlinson was handsome and extremely charismatic, yet Y/N would have never guessed that she would feel as strongly as she did for him after only two weeks. She always considered herself to be a practical person, but when Mason looked at her with his big green eyes, she lost any pragmaticism. And Mason knew how to take advantage of that.

“Mmm, Mase. You know I’ll stay if you ask me to,” Y/N pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and they twitched slightly beneath hers.

“I’m asking, love,” Groaning, Y/N placed her head against Mason’s chest before pushing herself away from his grasp. She looked through the doors to the Great Hall and could see all of the strangers she was so shamelessly flirting with her boyfriend in front of.

“Nope,” She said, giving him a pointed look. “I am going to sit with my house today. You’ll just have to miss me.”

“Will you miss me?” She would. That was the strange thing about her recent affair. It was like when she wasn’t with Mason she was floating purposelessly. It was as though she was a kite and he was the piece of string that was keeping her from floating out into space. Her independent streak was something Y/N had always valued, but since meeting Mason it was like she never wanted to be away from him.

“You know I will,” An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she noted the jovial expression on Mason’s face. Why couldn’t she stay away from him?

After departing from Mason, Y/N took the familiar path to the Gryffindor table. As she noticed three familiar boys, she smiled to herself. Suddenly, she was half walking and half skipping towards her best friends. When she reached she threw her arms around Peter from behind and squealed.

Hi, boys,” she giggled, not noticing the dry expressions on their faces. “Did you miss me?” She took a seat next to Peter and surveyed their faces carefully. Who pissed in their pumpkin juice?

“Tomlinson busy today, Y/N?” Sirius accused.

“No? I just wanted to sit here today. Are you guys mad?”

“Yes,” James shrugged. “You haven’t spoken to us in two weeks, because of your new friend.” Oh. Y/N had been so consumed in Mason she didn’t realize she was neglecting her closest friends.

“I’m so sorry, you guys. I guess I didn’t realize I was doing that,” She offered, her hand reaching out to hold James’ hand from across the table. Upon feeling his hand squeeze hers, she let out a relieved breath.

“We’ll forgive you on one condition, Y/N” Sirius mused, the shadow of his mischievous smirk evident. Y/N quirked her eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. “You have to tell us everything.”

Y/N began to gush endlessly about her boyfriend and was so enthralled in the topic that she hadn’t noticed a fourth figure appear in the seat beside James. As Y/N finished explaining how Mason had asked her out after a few days of sharing a class, she looked up only to have the air knocked out of her lungs.

“Remus,” His name had left her mouth just like it had a million times before, but now it was leaving a bitter taste behind. He nodded his head towards her before starting to fill his plate with some toast and meat. While watching him Y/N barely caught the rest of the boys telling Remus that they needed to finish morning detention and they’d see him in class.

The last time Y/N and Remus had spoken was a few weeks prior when she had sent him an owl over summer vacation. She felt another odd ache in her stomach, but it sharply contrasted the feeling she had with Mason. This was different. It was like when she was with Mason she couldn’t help but want to be near him, but with Remus, she wanted to want him close. But that couldn’t be possible. She liked Mason immensely so why was she still experiencing residual feelings for Remus?

Y/N couldn’t help but analyze every detail of the boy in front of her. He had cut his hair slightly shorter (which he did at the start of every school year) and it had become a slightly lighter shade of brown, likely due to the summer sun. She also winced as she looked at the new scar that trailed from the back of his hand and disappeared under his robes.

“Rough full moon?” Remus looked up at Y/N, started for a couple of seconds, and returned his gaze to his food. Y/N looked around the Great Hall awkwardly before starting again. “How have you been, Rem? Been a few weeks since we last talked.”

Y/N was met with a deafening silence and a shrug from Remus, but she noticed that he had taken the luxury of rolling his eyes, as well.

“Right, well… oh I’m not sure if you know, but I’ve got a boyfriend now,” Remus snapped his head up, an indecipherable look on his face. “Would you like to meet him?” Remus looked away, but when he looked back at her, Y/N wished she hadn’t ever said anything. He looked furious.

“No, not really,” Remus finally said, before getting up from his seat and storming off.

Y/N watched him as he walked away and felt her head begin to spin. It would be idiotic for her to act like she didn’t know why Remus was so angry, but she never wanted to confront those feelings. She was terrified for the moment that someone would ask her what happened between her and Remus. Because the truth was she had no idea. What she and Remus had was real, she knew that. But ever since she met Mason it was like something had shifted. Suddenly the only thing on her mind was Mason, Mason, Mason. Seeing Remus had awakened something in her she hadn’t felt in weeks and she hated it. So she was going to do the only thing that made sense. She was going to repress her unwanted feelings so far down, she’d forget they existed.

—

These days the word Quidditch could seldom be spoken at Hogwarts without someone associating it with the Potter name. That was for two very competitive and very proud reasons: James and Y/N Potter. The Potters had an aptitude for the game and everyone at their school knew it.

Y/N and James often argued over which Potter was the most valuable asset on the team. “If it wasn’t for me being a seeker, the game would go on for ages. I literally win us the games,” James would argue to which Y/N would say, “You must be joking, James. If it wasn’t for me constantly throwing bloody bludgers at the opposing team’s seeker, you’d never catch that snitch.”

But regardless, Quidditch was the thing that connected the cousins most. Growing up, Quidditch was all the pair knew and for Y/N it had become an escape. There was something about being so high in the air as the wind blew harshly against her skin that made her feel free. Maybe it was the fact that not many people could reach her when she was flying through the sky or maybe it was simply the thrill of the game.

“Ready, Potter?” Marlene yelled as Y/N adjusted her helmet. “What about you, other Potter?” The two cousins grinned as they approached each other.

“On the count of three,” James began. “1, 2 —” Before he finished his countdown the two Potter kids each raised their right hands and clasped them together. Laughing maniacally they thrust themselves into their pregame ritual (which was a very poorly executed handshake-dance combo), effectively filling the locker room with loud laughter.

“We are now, Mar.”

With that, the team began their walk to the Quidditch pitch. Y/N bounced on her feet as they approached the crowded arena, a habit she had when she got excited. It was the first game of the year and against Slytherin no less. She knew that if they won this game the party was going to be absolutely insane, which was, of course, all a Gryffindor could ask for.

The game had gotten intense as soon as Madam Hooch had blown her whistle. The Slytherin Beaters were giving Y/N a run for her money, but luckily the Gryffindors had been able to hold their own. Regulus Black, who was the Slytherin seeker, was taunting James playfully as they each kept an eye out for the snitch. Y/N was close enough to James to see how his attention began to shift from Regulus’ face to beside his head and then back. He had seen the snitch. And it was right next to Regulus.

Y/N could easily distract Regulus, who was too caught up in teasing his brother’s mate to properly prepare himself against a hit from her Bludger. She also knew that if James tried to grab the snitch, Regulus would have it in his hands in a second. The younger Black brother was known for his quick reflexes after all. The decision was easy.

Making one lap around the pitch to gain momentum, she shot her Bludger right at Regulus who with a horrified look ducked the ball. At that moment James leaped forward on his broom and grabbed the snitch. The stadium erupted in cheers so loud not a single Slytherin’s disappointment could be heard.

“And the Potter’s have done it again! They really are a dream team.” With a triumphant smile, Y/N made her way down and was quickly thrown into a circle of people where she found James right in the center.

“Nice one, cuz,” James winked, happily relishing in all the attention he was receiving.

“Yeah, mate. You too,” Y/N followed James out of the crowd of excited Gryffindors but they were looking for two completely different people. Y/N watched James look around for either Sirius or Lily (she didn’t know who he’d look for first these days) and she found herself looking for one boy in particular. Mason.

Instead of the image of a blond boy dressed in a repulsive blue (Mason had refused to wear the Gryffindor colors), she found herself staring at a taller boy who was donning her favorite colors. Remus had not only worn a scarlet cable knit sweater (which it was way too warm for) and yellow-gold scarf, but he was wearing a beanie that was meant to give the appearance of a lion’s mane He had also used muggle paint on his face. His left cheek had a red number seven and the right revealed a very badly drawn snitch. He looked utterly stupid. But the worst part of it all was he was dressed almost exactly as he had at the last Quidditch game of the previous year.

In the past two years that Y/N had played Quidditch on the Gryffindor team, this game had definitely been her best. The Gryffindors had just secured the Quidditch cup, which Y/N thought was the best way to end her fifth year. Y/N’s performance in the last game of the year just made it that much sweeter.

“I reckon you played alright, Potter,” Remus smirked. He had been right in front of her as soon as her feet had touched the grass beneath her. Waiting for her. Like he had at every one of her games.

“You know I did a lot better than alright, Lupin,” She shoved his chest, but before she could move her hand he had flattened her palm against his chest.

“Yeah, you did,” She was only distracted from his intense gaze when she heard Sirius let out a wolf whistle at the sight. Remus let go of her hand, blushing slightly as he glared at Sirius.

“Oh, shut it,” Y/N scolded. She nodded her head to the right, indicating for Remus to follow her. After walking a little while longer, they had found themselves walking on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Remus had grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hand as soon as they were out of everyone’s sight. She glanced over at him deciding that he had dressed warm enough for the cold that was invading the new spring season. She stared a little longer to get a better look at his painted face and eclectic accessory. She wanted to laugh, but the sound died in her throat as she took a better look at his cheek.

There on his right cheek was a big number five. Her Quidditch number.

“You look utterly stupid,” Y/N insulted him, though she had intended to say something else that had been on her mind. She and Remus had reached a weird sort of limbo. They had gone from just being a part of the same friend group to being each other’s best friends in their fourth year and now they were here. In their fifth year, Y/N and Remus had spent the majority of it flirting and being affectionate with one another. However, they were still technically not a couple. They had spent so long being each other’s friends that it was second nature to make jabs at one another in good spirit. Y/N liked it that way. She liked the healthy balance of romance and humor they shared. Only at this moment, she wished she had told him how happy he made her. But Remus, like he always did, understood.

“Wanted you to know that I’m your biggest fan,” Remus stopped walking and softly pulled Y/N closer, positioning them to be face to face.

“Are you? My biggest fan, I mean?” Her voice had fallen to a whisper despite no one being near.

“Without a doubt,” Remus said fervently, his voice just as low as hers. “I know your parents might disagree, but no one’s as big a fan of yours as I am. I promise you that.” Remus brought one of his hands up to her cheek and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Lowering himself slightly he placed a kiss on her cheek before hovering over her lips. Y/N’s heart was beating harshly against her ribcage and she felt like her feet were lifting off the ground. Remus had a way of doing that to her. Whenever he was this close to her, she felt like she was back on her broom floating inches above the ground. He had a way of giving her that freeing sensation even when she was trapped under his lustful gaze. Moving forward just a little more, Remus teasingly grazed his lips against hers.

“Remus,” she whined, earning an innocent hum from him. “Just fucking kiss me.” And boy did he kiss her. No matter how many times she had felt his lips against hers, it never failed to amaze her how much better each kiss got. He kissed her slowly, probably to continue to tease her, but she found herself enjoying it more than he could’ve intended. His lips were soft, contrasting hers which were chapped from the wind but she didn’t care. The taste of mint and chocolate was intoxicating and she was losing herself in his touch. She hardly noticed when he pushed her against a tree, kissing her harder than before. Remus pulled back slightly only to dive right back to kissing her. After doing that a couple more times, he hesitantly kissed down her neck. No, please don’t stop, Y/N thought.

With one last kiss on her neck, Remus mumbled against her skin, “We should probably get back.” Remus had one hand on her waist and the other pressed against the tree behind her, keeping her in her spot.

“Don’t wanna,” She pouted and she felt Remus groan against her neck. “I wanna stay with you.” Sighing, Remus pulled back and placed his hands on her cheeks. He used his fingers to warm up the apples of her cheek which were bright red from possibly more than just the stubborn cold air.

“And I want to stay here with you, but you promised Lily that you would help her with some work before the party tonight,” Y/N laughed because that response was so Remus. Making sure that she kept her word and did what she had to. Taking care of her in an unconventional way. She gave him another peck and just looked at him with adoring eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just something really special. You make me feel elated, you know that, Remus Lupin?” Remus beamed at her and kissed her again. Just hard enough to express his bliss, but not get them stuck in the forest for another fifteen minutes.

“I think that’s why we were put in each other’s paths,” Remus’ words caused Y/N to draw her eyebrows together in confusion. “I mean, call it fate, destiny, or just insignificant chance, but I think we were meant to know each other. Just for that. To elate each other. Don’t you think, Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Y/N was drawn out of her trance and when she blinked Remus wasn’t in front of her anymore. Instead, she was staring at green eyes and a blue sweater.

“Hm?”

“I said don’t you think?” Mason said, only now realizing Y/N had been completely lost in thought. “Here, you must be tired. Have some of my juice.” Finally blinking out of her daze, Y/N properly took in the boy in front of her.

“Babe! I’m sorry I didn’t even realize you were there,” She immediately jumped up to kiss him and with each second she felt any thoughts of Remus disappear. Besides, they shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Repress. Repress. Repress.

“I noticed,” Mason attempted to sound lighthearted, but there was an edge to his voice. “Uh, any way you wanna do something before the party tonight?” She nodded her head and let herself be dragged away from the bustling crowd around her. But not before she realized she could feel a smoldering gaze directed towards her.

—

A crowded common room, the smell of firewhiskey, and deafening music was without a doubt Y/N’s second favorite feeling after flying. If there was a party at Hogwarts you could bet you’d find Y/N carelessly dancing or making a spectacle of herself for others’ entertainment. And the person right next to her? Always Sirius Black.

There was no reason tonight’s party was any different. Sirius was downing Firewhiskey straight from the bottle with one hand and spinning Y/N in circles with his other. The music in the back was pulsing through their veins just as much as the alcohol was and they were horridly singing the lyrics of the song in the background.

“Potter.”

“Black.”

“Don’t let that Ravenclaw make you into a drag.”

“Never,” she whispered her face inches apart from his.

“All I need to hear.”

The two probably would’ve kept dancing if Mason hadn’t wrapped an arm around Y/N and pulled her away from Sirius. The alcohol mixed with the sheer excitement she had seeing Mason in front of her, compelled her to grab a hold of his collar and kiss him as hard as she could. Lost in his touch, she ignored Sirus’ drunken “gross” and continued to sloppily make out with him. Eventually, they had reached the corner of the common room and unabashedly deepened their kiss.

The most surprising part? Y/N was doing the most kissing. She was leaving purple bruises along his neck and biting his ear. She was running her hands up his arms and pulling at the collar of his shirt. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how she was doing this in a room full of people. All she knew was something about this boy was so spellbinding and she needed to feel him against her. But she was halted from fulfilling her needs by someone pulling her off Mason.

Her eyes met Remus’ bloodshot ones, which she assumed were caused by the empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his grasp. Pushing him off her, she stepped back a bit trying to gather her thoughts.

“Remus, what-” She was cut off by Remus' discordant voice.

“No - no. I -” He hiccuped, pointing an accusing finger to Y/N. “You… you suck.”

“Remus, you’re drunk-” she started again, but to her dismay, she was cut off again.

“NO. I - no, you’re going to listen. You said - you said you, in your last letter, you know what you said. So if it was true how could you be w-with him,” Remus growled as his eyes trained on Mason’s slowly reddening face. “How can you act like we never happened?”

Y/N flicked her eyes towards Mason and gulped as she noticed how angry he looked. She had never really talked to Mason about her past with Remus because he had never asked, but judging by the look on his face he didn’t want the conversation to be prompted by Remus insulting him. Luckily, Y/N was saved by James.

“Remus, c’mon. Now isn’t the time,” He mumbled. He held a sympathetic look in his eyes as he looked at Y/N, but she had a feeling the sympathy in his voice wasn’t for her.

“No, Prongs. She needs t - to tell me,” In his frenzied state, Remus had tucked his head into the bespectacled boy's neck.

“Okay, mate, but not right now.” Y/N watched as James led a babbling Remus up to his dorm, her heart clenching. She had done this to him. She had betrayed him, his trust, his heart. She betrayed him and when he asked her why she couldn’t even tell him. She wouldn’t be able to tell him or herself, because she truly didn’t know why.

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sassyhobbits · 4 years

Text

One Night Standards, 2

Masterlist

~~~

There was incessant, impatient knocking at Aelin’s door. There was only one person with the audacity to do such a thing.

“I’m getting ready, Aedion!” she snapped, sliding the little diamond studs into place.

“Are you decent?” her cousin called, voice muffled slightly by the door.

“Yes,”

She heard her door open and shut quickly as Aedion stepped into her room. She glanced at him briefly in the reflection of her vanity. His hair was brushed and he wore a crisp button down, something that only happened when they had an important guest.

Aelin supposed her future husband was considered an important guest.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as her cousin glanced around her room critically. There was a lump in her throat as he took in her bed. It was still made, but crumpled. Aelin had snuck back so late last night it was nearly early and had collapsed on top of the duvet, too tired to worry about getting under the covers.

She supposed the thorough night of passion was to be blamed for the state of her room and the incriminating evidence scattered around it.

Aelin and the mystery man had gone a few more rounds last night, using up every minute they could. It had been good. Really good. The best sex Aelin had had in a long while. But, eventually, the dream had to end. He had fallen asleep, tangled within the sheets. The only thing that had stopped Aelin from following him into oblivion had been the knowledge that she had to return home that night.

So, she had shimmied back into her dress, scooped up her heels, and allowed herself one last glance at the massive man sprawled across the bed, slumbering peacefully. She had hoped that whatever awaited him the next day would be better than what Aelin had to endure.

Her eyes skipped to the foot of her bed, to where her towering heels sat beside her skimpy dress, crumpled carelessly on the ground. Aedion followed her gaze, eyes that matched her own narrowing when he put the pieces together.

"Where the hell were you last night?" he demanded.

Aelin pursed her lips, looking away from the fury in her cousin's face back to her own reflection. "Out,"

"Are you serious right now?"

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

Aedion’s eyes were nothing but burning anger. “Are you out of your mind, Aelin? I thought you were past all of this. Did you take anything?”

She looked sharply over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t take anything. Just some shots. Vodka,”

Her cousin shook his head disapprovingly. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking,” she worked out through clenched teeth. “That in half an hour I will be engaged to a stranger. I was thinking that I wanted to enjoy my last night of freedom,”

“And you spent it drunk and partying?”

“I spent it in a hotel room with the hot guy I hooked up with,”

Aedion made a loud noise of disgust before cautiously eyeing the dress that Aelin now wore. Heather grey, with capped sleeves. It fit her body nicely, showing off her curves in the most conservative way possible, hitting just at her knees. But the detail that her cousin was focused on was the thick, draping turtleneck.

He hooked a finger around it and tugged to the side, revealing the line of tiny bruises scattered along her throat. Aelin batted his hand away testily.

“Gods help us,” he muttered.

The rude response resting on the tip of Aelin’s tongue faded away at the polite knock on the door, the only warning before it opened. Lysandra swept in, looking as beautiful and put together as ever in a deep green dress, raven hair flowing down her shoulders.

“Are you two getting at it already?” she tutted.

“He started it,” Aelin grumbled.

“You deserved it,” he replied.

Lysandra shook her head. “You two are insufferable,”

She walked up behind Aelin, running an expert eye over her from top to bottom. Lysandra, besides being the princess’s closest friend, was also her stylist. She had an excellent eye and Aelin trusted her wholeheartedly, both with her closet and, in turn, with her life.

“You need a bracelet or something,” Lysandra muttered. “Silver, to go with the earrings,”

She went to Aelin’s jewelry box, rummaging around her jewelry box for a few moments before taking out a shining chain. A Tiffany bracelet, with a specially made charm bearing her family’s crest hanging from it. Aelin held out her wrist, allowing Lysandra to clip it into place. Her uncle had given it to her on her birthday years ago.

Aelin stood, sweeping into her stuffed closet and grabbing a pair of pointed-toe pumps. She stepped into them before giving herself a once-over in the mirror.

It was a stark difference from the woman she had been last night. That woman had been wild and free. The one that looked to her now… she was calm and collected and put together. Aelin’s hair was neatly twisted back into a bun at the back of her head, two strands resting on either of her cheeks to frame her face. Mascara coated her lashes, making her turquoise eyes even more vivid. A simple, shining gloss painted her lips. The perfect image of a princess.

She breezed from her closet, finding Lysandra and Aedion murmuring between one another. Lysandra’s bright green eyes snapped to hers, raising a perfectly groomed brow playfully.

“Aedion tells me you had a full night,” she said. “Was he good?”

“Very. Not to mention hot,”

It had been the best way possible to end her time as a single woman. Aelin didn’t know the next time she would be intimate with someone. Her future husband could very well want nothing to do with her. Or, conversely, he could want her very badly. Aelin knew she was an attractive woman, many men would give their left eye for a single night with her.

Aelin held back the uncomfortable shiver that threatened to race down her body. Engaged or not, the prince wouldn’t get anything out of her she didn’t want to give.

She had been pondering her potential future for the past few days. This marriage was nothing more than a business arrangement. Aelin didn’t have much faith in men. She knew the chances of her future husband having an affair were high. She was sure it would be discrete but… it could very much happen. She didn’t know if she herself would one day be desperate and lonely enough to do the same but…

She would think about that later.

“Do I look alright?” she asked.

“You look beautiful, Aelin,” Lysandra said. “Prince Whitethorn is a lucky man,”

Yes, Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle. Her future fiancé. Aelin hadn’t thought his name since the first time she had heard it.

“He’s even luckier that he doesn’t even have to work for me,” Aelin said. “I’m being offered up on a silver platter,”

Aedion’s face fell at her words. “Aelin…” he whispered. “You know Orlon doesn’t mean-”

“I know,” she cut him off, voice soft but firm. “I didn’t mean it like that. I will do whatever I need to for Terrasen,”

Her cousin reached out and took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. The thick silence between them said enough.

Another knock at Aelin’s door. If they kept going at this rate, all of Orynth would be in her room by noon.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened a crack, and Ren Allsbrook, the son of one of her uncle’s closest advisors, peeked his head in. His mouth was set grimly, face devoid of any playfulness. He opened his mouth and uttered two words that sent Aelin’s heart plummeting to the bottom of her gut.

“He’s here,”

The breath was stolen from her lungs, but she managed a stiff nod.

“Right,” Aelin said. “Well, best not to keep him waiting,”

Lysandra quickly embraced her, kissing her cheeks and promising to see her later that night. Aelin then looked to her cousin and nodded. It was finally time to take that final step.

They didn’t speak as they walked down the familiar halls that Aelin had grown up in. They were quiet today, no staff or guests fluttering about. The sound of her heels against the marble floor was nearly deafening, but it drowned out the thump of her pounding heart.

They grew closer and closer to the grand front room in which Aelin was to meet her future husband. She would assume her uncle was already down there, could hear voices echoing from down the hall. She could see the top of the grand staircase that would lead her down to the front room, but her sure steps faltered in front of a familiar painting.

It was a portrait of her parents, painted soon after they had married. They looked so young, so happy. Her father’s hair had been a deep brown, not streaked with grey as it had been the last time she had seen him. Her mother looked more or less the same, face perhaps a tad smoother, but her eyes, eyes that matched Aelin’s, were the same. Most importantly, they looked happy.

It had been three years since she had lost them. Three years since they had been assassinated at a charity event they had been hosting. Aelin had lost much that day, too many people she had loved.

Aedion noted that she had stopped, coming to her side. She knew he missed her parents just as much as she did. They had raised him alongside Aelin after his mother's passing.

“They would be proud of what you’re doing for your country, Aelin,” he said softly.

Proud, perhaps. And maybe just a bit sad. Aelin’s parents had loved one another immensely, supported one another through whatever troubles they had faced. She knew they always hoped that she would find that kind of love. It seemed the gods were not on her side.

Aelin couldn’t find it within herself to respond, simply turning heel and making that final march towards the staircase.

At the precipice, Aelin glanced down at the room before her. She saw her uncle’s back to her, Darrow, his husband and head of their PR team, beside him. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, carefully taking the first step down. Her uncle was speaking to two people, both men. One had bronzed skin and wild, golden, curly hair he clearly had tried to tame to the best of his abilities. He was dressed too casually to be the prince.

Her uncle and Darrow turned when they heard her heels clicking against the stairs. The golden haired man looked up too, but he wasn’t the one that Aelin had eyes for.

Aelin could have sworn that time stopped as the fourth man tilted his face up towards her.

She wondered if the gods had always had a cruel sense of humor, or if they were stepping out of their comfort zone for her.

The stranger she had been prepared to marry wasn’t, in fact, a stranger.

She recognized the strong, elegant planes of his face. The short silver hair, the pine green eyes, that powerful body partially hidden under a perfectly tailored suit. It seemed Aelin had worried for nothing. She wouldn’t be marrying a stranger.

She would be marrying her one-night stand.

The man she had shared the passionate night with, who she had danced against in the crowded club, was Prince Rowan Whiethorn.

Aelin quickly mastered herself, not wanted to falter and go careening down the stairs. Her eyes were trained on the prince, watching as his gaze trailed over her. For a moment, she wondered if he would even recognize her. She had looked like a different person last night. He had also been drinking. She remembered tasting the tang of whiskey when their tongues had tangled. Maybe his memory of the previous night was too blurry to place her.

Even from the steadily shrinking distance, Aelin saw the prince’s brows furrow, as if trying to remember how she was familiar. He studied her for a few more heartbeats before Aelin saw recognition spark in his eyes.

Her stomach dropped as Rowan Whitethorn’s eyes grew a fraction of an inch, lips tightening almost imperceptibly. But she noticed.

He remembered her.

The trek down the stairs took far too long, her eyes not leaving Rowan’s the entire time. Maybe she should have googled him once she knew they would be married, then they wouldn’t be in this damned fiasco.

But clearly he hadn’t recognized her last night either.

Aelin barely noticed as her uncle smiled brightly at her. “Ah, Aelin! There you are,”

She forced her eyes from Rowan and looked towards her uncle, offering a tiny, pleasant grin of her own. “Good morning, uncle. Darrow,”

She smoothed her skirt as she came to a stop before them, trying to keep herself from fidgeting in place.

“Aelin…” her uncle said. “Allow me to introduce Lord Fenrys Moonbeam and Prince Rowan Whitethorn of Doranelle,”

The golden-haired man, Fenrys, bowed respectfully at the waist. Aelin dipped her chin in response, barely noticing how handsome he was. Instead, she looked towards the prince. He reached out respectfully and took her hand within his.

Aelin hoped he didn’t notice how her breath caught in her throat, remembering how those hands had felt on her body last night, how they had made her gasp and moan.

Rowan bent at the waist and placed a kiss that was little more than a peck on the back on her hand.

“It’s an honor to meet you… Aelin,” he murmured.

“Likewise,”

The prince straightened and looked her in the eye again. They both barely dared to move, staring unblinkingly at one another. She wanted to say something, but any proper words seemed to elude her.

She didn’t miss as Fenrys nudged Rowan with his elbow, making the prince blink rapidly as he started.

“You look very beautiful,” Rowan said a tad too quickly.

Aelin tried not to roll her eyes. He had said as much last night, but it was more along the lines of incredibly sexy, which was also true.

“Thank you,” Aelin said, offering up a terse smile.

“We’re honored to welcome you to Orynth,” Orlon said. “I hope your journey was pleasant. We apologize that we were unable to receive you last night,”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Fenrys said with a charming grin. “Our flight came in late. The hotel you booked was perfect and we were able to keep ourselves entertained,”

Aelin saw Rowan’s fingers curl into fists. To anyone else, the last phrase was nothing but innocent. But it seemed Fenrys was savvy to what Rowan had done last night. She assumed he wasn’t aware that the woman his prince had brought back the night prior was standing right before them. Aelin didn’t remember seeing him last night.

“Well, I’m sure you must be famished,” Orlon said. “Why don’t we take lunch?”

Aelin tried not to cringe. Gods, would this be an awkward meal.

She looked once more to Rowan, only to find he was already looking at her. They both looked away nearly comically quickly.

Aelin sucked down a sharp, bracing breath. She would survive this.

…

Rowan Whitethorn was screwed.

He was screwed because he had screwed the woman sitting across from him, who was currently sitting as stiff as a board.

Maybe it was his fault for not researching his future wife upon agreement of the engagement.

When his aunt had come to him with a preposition, Rowan found himself without much room to refuse. He was an unessential prince, not heir to anything. His family had been serving Doranelle for generations. If Rowan had tried to refuse, his uncle would have found a way to force his hand anyway, if Maeve didn’t first. His queen had wanted to build connections with Terrasen for as long Rowan could remember, and she had found a way in through him.

So Rowan had made it easier on himself and everyone else and agreed. Apparently, he was already self-loathing enough that it barely bothered him. He wasn’t in love with anyone, hadn’t been for years. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to love anyone again. Not after Lyria.

Rowan had been unfeeling enough after agreeing to the arrangement that he hadn’t bothered to think much about the woman who he would be wed to. He had heard her name before, as heir to a kingdom, it was impossible not to. He supposed he had seen photos of her here and there, in magazines, online, but nothing that had stuck in his head.

Besides, last night, she had been an entirely different woman.

Rowan remembered seeing her across the bar, her hair messy in an enticing way, falling down the open back of her skin-tight dress. She had moved within the center of the dancing mass as if she were the only person there. He had observed her from his perch in the bar longer than he cared to admit as he nursed whiskey after whiskey.

He and Fenrys had gone to the club the moment they had stashed their belongings in their respective hotel rooms. The lord had come with him partially for politics, partially to make sure the prince didn’t go batshit before the wedding.

Rowan hadn’t gone to the bar expecting to go home with anyone. He had been tired and resentful enough of his situation that he wanted to drown his woes in amber liquid.

But then he had seen her.

Aelin. He had seen Aelin.

It seemed he and the princess had a similar idea of how she desired to spend her last night of freedom.

Rowan couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment his inhibitions had flown out the window, but he remembered knocking back the rest of his drink, telling Fenrys not to wait up, and striding into the crowd towards the woman who had held his eyes.

He couldn’t believe that the fine lady sitting before him, taking dainty bites of her salad, was the same woman who had pressed her body against his last night, whispered obscene things against his ear, had begged him not to hold back.

And now she was rather quiet. So was he, to be fair.

Aelin’s uncle helped fill the silence, Fenrys doing his fair share to keep the conversation going. Aedion Ashryver, Aelin’s cousin, simply looked at him as if he could see all the way through his skin. Clearly, he wanted to know about the man that would be marrying his cousin.

Rowan thoroughly ignored the pointed looks Fenrys kept throwing his way, trying to prompt him to say something, to ask the princess something about herself. Even if Rowan wanted to, he didn’t know what he would say. Was that your favorite club? How often do you sneak out and hook up with strangers?

He couldn’t ask any of that. So he stayed silent and let his companion drive the conversation.

Rowan barely remembered eating, mostly running on muscle memory to force the food down his throat. Their plates were quickly and quietly cleared away by the staff until they were all alone again in the pleasantly lit dining room.

Rowan noted as the king looked to the man on his right. Weylan Darrow, the king’s husband and PR director. They shared a quick, meaningful look before Darrow laced his fingers together and leaned forward.

“There are a few matters to discuss regarding the engagement,” he said, glancing between Rowan and the princess a few times.

Rowan nodded. He had expected this talk upon arrival. They were at least courteous enough to wait until after they ate before getting into it.

“Now, although this marriage is arranged,” Darrow began. “It would be best to display it as a real relationship to our people. Arranged marriages are… tricky in the public’s eye. We want this to be as peaceful a transition as possible,”

Rowan noted Aelin’s lips press themselves into a tight line. “How do we explain this sudden engagement, then?” she asked.

“We’ve thought that through,” Darrow said. “I was thinking somewhere along the lines of a summer romance, kept on the low to keep out of the spotlight. Say something about Prince Whitethorn valuing his privacy, since that already follows with what most of the public knows of you. That is, if you are both alright with that,”

Rowan looked towards Aelin at the same moment she looked towards him.

“It’s fine with me if it’s fine with Prince Rowan,” she said.

“I have no qualms with it,” he said.

“Very well then,” Darrow said.

“The announcement will be made tomorrow,” Orlon explained. “And from there… you two will be very busy, I’m afraid,”

“Busy?” Rowan asked, raising a brow.

“Interviews, statements, planning,” Aelin said casually, tracing shapes on the tablecloth before her with a well-manicured finger.

Rowan had forgotten that in Terrasen, and in some other places, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was somewhat a celebrity. He was sure cameras and press had been following her around since she was born. A beautiful, young princess. It was no wonder the public would be enamoured with her, why they may dislike the idea of their precious princess giving her hand away in marriage, despite the fact that it was done in their best interests.

And now that Rowan would be getting married to her, he would have to get used to being in the public's eye as well.

“We can finish particulars about… everything tomorrow,” Darrow said, pushing to his feet alongside the king. “We shall give you two time to settle in,”

“Thank you,” Rowan said, rising as the others around the table did as well. Then, he spoke before he could truly think, “Allow me to walk you back to your chambers, princess,”

Aelin paused and blinked, the most surprise she would let herself show. She mastered herself quickly, smiling politely at him.

“Of course,”

Rowan rounded the table, holding out an arm for the princess to take. She placed a delicate hand on his forearm, but was barely able to meet his gaze. He allowed himself a quick glance down at her, noting the high neck of her dress. He knew it was to cover the bruises he had left scattered over her throat last night. He hadn’t thought twice of it then.

“I’ll see you this evening,” Aelin said to her family in farewell.

Rowan tried to ignore the stiffness in his limbs as he walked the princess out of the dining room.

“Which direction?” he asked.

“To the left,”

They marched side by side in a tense silence until the voices from the dining room faded into faint rumbles. And then, it was simply a waiting game to see who spoke first.

It was Aelin.

“So,” she spoke softly, but didn’t seem to have anything else prepared.

“Yeah,” Rowan agreed.

She wet her lips and looked up towards him. “This was… unexpected,”

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” he sighed. “You, uh… you didn’t know what I looked like?”

“No,” she admitted. “I hadn’t wanted to make any expectations, I suppose. But, you didn’t know what I looked like?”

“Even if I had, you do not look like the same person you did last night,”

Aelin shook her head, looking at him in bewilderment. “How could you not know what I looked like? My photos are everywhere. News sites, magazines, social media. You can't go to the damned grocery store without my seeing my face on those trashy tabloids surrounded by pregnancy rumors,”

Rowan could only shrug. “I don’t pay much attention to those sort of things,”

“Right,” Aelin breathed, letting her head droop. “Well… I’m not quite sure what to say,”

Neither was Rowan, but he spoke anyway. “Do you often sneak out to clubs and go home with strangers?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Rowan knew they were the wrong ones. He didn’t even have time to hang his head in shame, to try to apologize, before Aelin had skidded to a stop and whirled towards him, face alight with a bright fury.

“Excuse me?” she hissed in indignation. “I distinctly remember you doing just the same! When you were due to be engaged the next day!”

All ideas of a swift apology flew from his head at the insinuation. Rowan narrowed his eyes. “You did just the same, princess. Don’t throw stones,”

She took a belligerent step forward. “I’ll throw whatever I damn well please! Did you even wait five minutes before leaving your hotel and looking for someone to fuck?”

“You have a filthy mouth,”

Said filthy mouth curled into a cruel smile as she took another step forward, close enough so they could share breath. She placed a finger on his chest.

“You sure as hell didn’t mind my filthy mouth last night,” she drawled. “When it was all over you,”

Rowan took a sharp step back. “Is this a joke to you?”

He was practically getting whiplash from the different facets of the princess, trying to figure out who she really was. From the wild, desperate women she was last night, the prim little princess this afternoon, to the infuriating, sour person before him.

Rowan had expected to tie himself to a polite, perhaps a bit pretentious, princess. It hadn't been his ideal woman, but he would have managed.

But Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was not what he had expected.

That wasn't necessarily a good thing.

The princess let out a bitter bark of laughter, shaking her head. “Kinda, yeah. You don’t find this whole situation a cruel sort of irony?”

“I think marriage is rather serious, no matter the circumstances,”

“Please,” she scoffed. “This marriage is nothing more than a business deal. Terrasen is broke and I’m whoring myself out so my people don’t starve,”

“That’s a rather astute comparison, actually,”

The resounding smack echoed through Rowan’s ears before the burning stinging on his cheek registered. He blinked once, looking at the princess before him, eyes alight with a fiery rage unlike the which he had ever seen.

And she had slapped him.

Aelin’s nostrils flared, her chest rising and falling deeply, as if she were trying to reel in her emotions. Surprising. She had a temper.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Rowan had no response to the venom he found in her voice, only holding her gaze for a heartbeat longer before she swiftly turned and swept away, the clicking of her heels fading into the distance.

He ground his teeth, his glare nearly burning a hole into the spot where his future wife had just stood.

Gods help him.

~~~

a/n: here’s the next chapter! still getting used to posting on tumblr so please let me know if your tags worked or not! let me know what yall think!

tags: @b00kworm @tswaney17 @the-dark-swan @superspiritfestival @rowaelinforeverworld @giorgia-the-trashpanda @http-itsrebecca @minaidss @randmfandms16 @lissak03 @i-love-all-books @amren-courtofdreams @bamchickawowow @faerie-queen-fireheart @fictional-horan @chemicha @keshavomit @iliketoasterstrudels @aknymph @rowaelin-cressworth @westofmoon

#one night standards #rowaelin #rowaelin au #arranged marriage #modern royalty #my writing

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imjustthemechanic · 3 years

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The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute Part 14/? - The Wreck

They find the plane - and Miss Lake definitely knows something she’s not telling yet.

Peggy would not have expected dogsled to be a very comfortable way to travel, and it was not – to somebody used to the solid bulk of aeroplanes and automobiles, this comparatively rickety contraption felt like it would be shaken to bits underneath her. The wind was bitter on her face and the cold bit into her fingers and toes, numbing them. Yet they covered the ground remarkably quickly, and there was the exuberance of the dogs, who were doing what they’d been born to do and clearly having a marvelous time at it.

Lake was certainly enjoying herself, laughing and calling out “mush!” as she tried to make their sled pull ahead of Howard and Jason’s. It was enough to make Peggy rather resent her. Who was she to be having fun while they were searching for a dead man? Lake herself ought to be in New York tracking down Dottie, and then on her way to prison. She had no right to consider this a holiday.

“Do you know why it’s called mushing?” she leaned down to shout in Peggy’s ear, over the whistle of the wind.

“I don’t!” Peggy replied. “Why?”

“Because when the French settlers learned it from the Iroquois, they would order their dogs to marche!” said Lake. “And the English are terrible at French, so they pronounced it mush, and that’s what it’s been ever since!”

It also took far longer to get to the site by sled than it had by plane. As mile upon mile of icy wasteland rolled by, Peggy began to wonder if they were going in the wrong direction. They need only start out off-course by a few minutes of arc and they would miss the place by miles. But Howard and Jason had their map and their compass and they would stop repeatedly to check. Peggy had to have faith in them.

The first sign that they were on the right track was when they came to the open path in the ice that the narwhals had been using yesterday. There were none there today, though from a distance they spotted the tall black fin of an orca. They had to make a bit of a detour to find a place where it closed over enough for the dogs and sleds to cross, and Peggy didn’t dare look down as they passed over.

“Unicorns are supposed to like beautiful young virgins,” said Lake cheerfully.

“Is that why they left?” asked Peggy. She was not a virgin, and no longer particularly young, either, nor would she have flattered herself by saying she was beautiful… and regardless of her age or charms, Peggy was quite certain Lake did not meet the unicorn’s standards, either.

Lake giggled. “No, I was thinking of them leading the way to Captain America!”

“I see.” Steve had certainly been young and beautiful… even before Erskine’s serum he’d had the most angelic face. His virginity was none of Lake’s business, though, so Peggy did not comment on it.

“This should be it coming up!” said Howard.

The sun was behind them, with their own long shadows stretching ahead across the snow, and the landscape beyond blindingly white. It was impossible to make out any detail. Even the point where the snow met the sky was a little uncertain. Peggy tried cupping her hands around her face to block out as much light as possible but that really did nothing… and then there it was. The flash of sunlight on exposed metal.

“There!” she exclaimed. “A little to the south!”

As they drew closer, they found themselves approaching a tiny rocky island sticking out of the ice, no bigger than a block of Manhattan. There was not a single sign of life there, not even a bird or a patch of moss. Against the harsh sunlight, the exposed rocks looked black as coal… but not all of them, Peggy realized, were rocks. Some of them were too flat, or had ragged edges that did not look like they were made of stone, and then there was that thing the sun kept shining on.

She couldn’t take it anymore. They were still a hundred yards off when Peggy threw aside the blanket covering her legs, rolled off the sled, and ran ahead. As she moved the reflection pulsed rhythmically off slats of unpainted metal, and she realized what she was seeing… the immense fan of one of the Valkyrie’s jet engines, caught on the rocks and half-covered in snow. Every time her angle changed, a different surface caught the sunlight.

The barking of the dogs and the shouting of her companions faded into the background as Peggy climbed the icy rocks to start brushing snow off the engine housing. Under the soft layer that had most recently fallen was more that had hardened into rough ice. Peggy beat this with her fist to crack it, and when her mittens couldn’t get a grip on the edges she took them off and used her bare fingers. Pieces came away, revealing the metal underneath painted matte black, but with a symbol picked out in a higher gloss. She couldn’t uncover very much of it… but it was enough to see the end of a tentacle.

“Peg!” Howard called out from below. “What have you got?”

She blinked away tears, and looked to see the sleds come to a half at the foot of the rocky slope she’d just climbed. Lake was kneeling in the snow reassuring the animals, while Howard and Jason looked expectantly up at Peggy.

“This is it!” she said. “It has to be. This is the Valkyrie… at least part of it!”

“I told you so!” Lake declared – but she didn’t sound mocking or gloating. She was as delighted as they were. She kissed a dog’s nose and told it what a very good girl it was, and then grabbed a shovel off the sled, paused to take in the position of the sun, and paced out a distance across uneven ice to the west of the shattered engine.

She had described seeing Steve’s body in the ice. She must know exactly where he was.

Peggy tried to slide back down the slope, but lost her footing and tumbled, coming to rest in a heap among the rocks. Jason helped her up, and she murmured a thank you before seizing an ice pick and running after Lake. The men joined them moments later, and they all set to work on the layers of snow.

The ice here was far thicker than it had been on the engine, and cutting through it was back-breaking. Despite the cold, all four of them were soon removing hats and mittens as they sweated with the exertion. Peggy could see in Howard’s eyes that he wanted to take a break, but when she offered him one, he refused. He was stubborn enough to keep working as long as everybody else did. Peggy certainly wasn’t going to stop yet, and Lake was digging like a woman possessed.

“Aha!” Howard said, and grabbed Jason’s write to stop him digging. “Look! Look at that! Peggy, move, you’re casting a shadow.”

She moved to the side, and the sunlight fell on the ice below them. It was cloudy and cracked, and very difficult to see anything through but a vague white haze. When Howard pointed it out, however, Peggy saw it – a smear of red.

That reinvigorated everybody. They resumed their work, more carefully now, since they didn’t want to chop right through and damage the body they’d come here to find. But the time they simply had to stop, they could see enough to know that Steve’s body was there exactly as Lake had described it – lying on his back against the top of the plane, eyes closed, his shield on his left arm and some small object clutched in his right hand. His legs were not visible yet, but there was no sign that he was anything but entirely whole.

As the sun passed overhead, clouds blew in and the wind became bitter. They made camp in the old polar bear den beneath the Valkyrie’s torn-off wing, which hadn’t had any bears in it for a very long time and was surprisingly warm even before they got a little stove lit to warm up coffee and supper. There, it was time to discuss what they were going to do next.

“Somebody needs to go back to the plane and radio Stark Industries with our location,” said Howard. “They can send more helpers and better transportation. Something that can land on the ice,” he added, with a nod to Lake. “Guess that better be me.” He looked at the opening of the den, and Peggy could see that he didn’t want to leave. After so long searching for Steve, and having finally found him, he was afraid that if he took his eyes off the crash site, it would vanish.

“I’ll go,” said Jason. “It can’t be Miss Lake because she’ll never come back, and you two have more invested in this than I do. People at the company know who I am and they’ll know the message is from you.”

“Perfect!” Howard grinned, relieved. “You can give them Peggy’s coordinates, they’re close enough to let them find the place, and we’ll wave them in. Tell them we need something that can land on ice but that can lift… I’m gonna say at least two to four tons. It’ll depend on how much of the ice we can get off him. And we’ll need a ship with a big freezer on board. We don’t want him thawing out before we can get him embalmed.”

Peggy nodded, glad Howard had thought of that because she couldn’t bear to. She didn’t feel quite so terrible as she’d feared she might, but the initial triumph of actually finding the wreck had worn off, and she felt drained, as if she could curl up in here and sleep for a hundred years like Rip Van Winkle. There was a part of her that was sad she could no longer fantasize about Steve’s miraculous return, but mostly she was just relieved. This time it really was over, and she would never have to say goodbye to him again.

That was exactly what Daniel had said, wasn’t it? That as long as Peggy didn’t know for sure where Steve was, he would always haunt her. Now at long last, she could truly lay him to rest and move on.

Jason tipped the last of his coffee down his throat and stuffed a piece of tinned pork roast in his mouth. “You want me to come back after I’ve delivered the message, or stay in Resolute with the plane?” he asked.

“Better stay there,” Howard replied. “If they can’t find us they’ll find you, and you can lead them back out here.”

“Got it.” Jason crawled towards the den exit.

“You’re going right now?” asked Peggy.

“The sooner I get there, the less time you have to spend out here in the middle of nowhere,” Jason pointed out.

“And the sooner you get a real meal again,” said Howard.

“Exactly.” Jason smiled. “Good luck.”

“You as well,” Peggy managed.

It was about twenty minutes later, after Jason had no doubt vanished from view, that Howard reached into his own backpack and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Damn,” he said. “I was so caught up I forgot I brought this… doesn’t seem right to open it when we’re not all here.”

“Save it for when we’ve got Steve on the ship home,” Peggy decided.

“Then there’ll be more people who want some,” Howard complained.

“You can share,” said Peggy. “For now… it’ll probably take a couple of days at least for your people to get here, so we just need to hunker down.” It would have made more sense, really, for them all to return to Resolute, but she did not suggest that. She didn’t want to leave any more than Howard did. “It’ll give us time to think about other things.” Things Peggy wasn’t sure she wanted to think about quite yet, but which needed to be dealt with.

“Yeah.” Howard stared thoughtfully at their little camp stove. “He wouldn’t have wanted anybody trying to take him apart and see how he worked.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Peggy agreed. Whatever else he’d been, Steve was, above all, a human being, and they needed to remember him as that, not as the subject of an experiment.

“So we’ll make sure nobody can,” Howard said. “We’ll have to cremate him… we’ll have a public viewing first, because everybody will want to come pay their respects, but after that… and we’ll scatter his ashes at Ebbet’s Field.”

“Where the Brooklyn Dodgers play,” Peggy said with a nod, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “That’s perfect… that’s exactly what he’d want.”

Howard looked at the bottle again, then tucked it back in his bag and raised his tin coffee cup instead. “To Steve.”

“To Steve,” said Peggy, tapping hers against it.

“To Captain America,” Lake agreed with a glance at Peggy.

Peggy sipped her coffee, then looked at Lake. Their uninvited guide had been full of energy earlier, probably working harder than any of them despite being the smallest. Since they’d stopped work for the day, however, she’d said very little. As Jason was leaving she’d gone out to bring the rest of the dogs into the den with them, so that the animals’ body heat could help keep the space warm, but other than that she’d been quiet and still, as if thinking deeply about something.

“What about you?” Peggy asked her.

“What about me?” Lake said.

“Well, what are you planning to do next?”

“I’ve got an extensive to-do list.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Peggy swallowed hard to get all of her pride down in one lump before saying, “thank you. For leading me to him.”

Lake shook her head. “Don’t thank me yet.”

“Oh, no?” asked Peggy.

“No. You’ll know when.” She gave Peggy a weak but apparently sincere smile. “Trust me.”

#fanfic #captain america #agent carter #peggy carter #steve rogers #steggy #fix it fic

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bytheangell · 3 years

Text

You Can’t Keep Safe What Wants to Break - Chapter 3, Isabelle & Maryse

(AO3) (Prologue) (Chapter 1 - Magnus) (Chapter 2, Alec) (Chapter 3 - Isabelle and Maryse)

It’s a rare thing for the entirety of the Lightwood family to get together for dinner these days. Robert bounces back and forth between assisting the LA Institute in getting things back up and running after Jonathan’s attack and his usual business in Alicante, and Max primarily stays with him while continuing his training. Alec lives in Alicante despite his frequent trips back to New York to keep tabs on Izzy and Jace at the Institute. Maryse, for the most part, remains out of the Shadow World entirely, though she gets enough news from her children and Luke to stay in the loop.

Izzy knows something’s up the moment Jace tells her he needs to talk to everyone at the same time, but no amount of prodding will get him to tell her why. Even Alec is acting oddly closed off, and normally she can bat her eyelashes and use her little sister charms on him no problem! Not this time. Alec starts actively avoiding her for the three days between Jace saying they’re all getting together and when they’re actually all free to meet, going so far as to reschedule a planned trip to the Institute even though he swears it’s just a scheduling conflict and not because he’s avoiding her.

She knows him well enough to know he’s lying, and she knows Jace well enough to know that he’s keeping something from her.

“Jace, should I be worried,” Izzy asks him the day before the dinner. “You know how mom and dad get when they’re in the same building as each other, is it really a good idea to make them have an entire dinner together?”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t important, Iz,” Jace promises, and she can tell from the look on his face that he means it. This is important. This is serious, whatever it is.

“So important you can’t just tell me now, while I’m here?” Izzy challenges, an eyebrow raised. She doesn’t like the feeling of being kept out of the loop, and she’s anxious that whatever he has to announce at this dinner is something she doesn’t want to get surprised by. “You told Alec,” she adds as if this should automatically mean she should be in the know, too. “And don’t say you didn’t, because he’s been acting weird all week.”

Izzy waits in tense anticipation while Jace considers. She debates pushing it, really laying into the ‘you trust Alec more than me’ angle, but she thinks twice about it and decides not to in the end.

“I need somewhere private. Your room’s closer,” he relents, nodding in the direction of her room down one of the side halls and starting off without waiting for her to respond.

Izzy smirks to herself as she follows quickly, the sound of her heels quickly catching up to the thud of Jace’s boots down the long hallways of the Institute’s residential wings.

Once they’re inside her room Izzy remains patiently quiet and still while Jace takes a few moments to pace back and forth, looking at her then looking away again, before he works himself up to speak.

“I’m leaving,” he says finally. “To be with Clary.”

Izzy’s immediate reaction is joy, because what else could it be to know that Jace and Clary might get their happy ending! She’s thrilled to know that he wants to be with her even if she can’t be with them, and--

--and she can’t be with them.

Izzy’s thoughts come scratching to a halt in her head, happiness quickly shifting to disbelief. Clary can’t be here at the Institute, and she can’t be part of the Shadow World, which means if Jace is going to be with her then he can’t, either.

“You can’t,” Izzy says. “You can’t leave. We’ll figure something out. Look at all the laws Alec is working to change. He can change those rules, too, I know he can.” She’s not particularly proud of the immediately desperate tone her words take on at the realization but there’s no helping it, because desperate is exactly how she feels. Desperate to convince Jace this is a mistake, desperate to convince him to stay.

“And maybe if he does, then I can come back. We both could. But until then I don’t want to lose the next, what? Year? Two? Ten? Who knows how long that would take. Especially living this life, where I’m more likely to die on a mission before the Council changes their ruling,” Jace points out.

If that was meant to be reassuring regarding his decision it has the opposite effect. Izzy shakes her head from side to side repeatedly, like maybe if she can say no enough times she can will it into being true. She can’t accept this. She won’t. She knows she’s being stubborn but she refuses to even humor the small part of her mind that gets it on some level, already forgetting that little bit of her that immediately wanted to be happy for Jace.

“No. This isn’t something you can just… just do! You're not the sort of person who abandons their family,” Izzy snaps.

“Iz, I’m not abandoning anyone.” Jace looks tired already but Izzy doesn’t care. She isn’t about to let this go.

“Yes, you are! That’s what this is. You’re walking away from us. From me. Three go in, three come out, remember? I need you. I need you here, not off with Clary in the mundane world. We all need you here. You’re our best fighter, and with Alec in Alicante, Dad and Max in LA, and Mom exiled you’re…” Izzy’s voice softens and it takes everything in her to push the last part of this sentence out. “You’re the only family I have left here.”

Her voice breaks against her will, soft and pleading in a way she so rarely allows herself to be. She knows the words hit home because Jace’s eyes shine for just a second, full of emotion in a way he so rarely allows himself to be. They connect in that moment, deeper than they probably have in months, maybe even years. She feels a spark of hope that maybe she tugged on his heartstrings just enough for him to reconsider.

That hope is dashed abruptly with his next words.

“I’m sorry, Iz,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”

It isn’t what she wants to hear. Jace reaches out to pull her into a hug, his arms outstretched, moving slowly enough that she has time to take a step back. She does. Jace’s arms fall to his sides and he looks dejected. That exhaustion seeps back into his features.

“No,” Izzy shakes her head, taking another step backward. “No, you don’t get to apologize like you don’t have a choice. Because you do. You’re just not choosing us.”

With those parting words, Izzy turns and storms out of her room, leaving Jace behind. She isn’t sure where she’s going, she just hopes he doesn’t follow before she says anything else in her shock and anger that she might regret later. She needs to cool off. She needs to think.

Izzy takes her whip and makes sure her stele is in her pocket, then heads out into the night. Thankfully, Jace doesn’t follow her. She only makes it a few blocks into the city before turning the corner into an alleyway and leaning back against the wall, sliding down to pull her knees up to her chest. She’s in no condition to be out trying to fight anything, no matter how badly she needs the distraction.

When she gets a fire message the next morning saying he hopes she’ll come to the family dinner to hear him out properly she decides that she should - not to hear him out, but to back up her parents when they inevitably make the same points she made.

Maybe together they can get him to change his mind.

---

Maryse would have to be a fool to not know that something is up, but she welcomes everyone into her home - Robert included, though a bit more grudgingly than the others - without immediate question. The last to arrive is Isabelle, and once she’s there Jace asks if everyone could get together in the living room.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Jace begins.

Maryse watches Jace closely - it isn’t often that she sees him this nervous about anything, let alone something as seemingly simple as talking to his family. She’s witnessed him address groups of Shadowhunters, speak with Clave officials, even step in as a representative during several tense Downworlder negotiations. But here, looking at the room full of family, she can see the uncertainty he’s trying so desperately to hide.

“I submitted an official request to be deruned this morning,” Jace says. “I’m leaving to be with Clary. This isn’t up for debate, no one is going to talk me out of it. I’ve taken every single detail into consideration and it isn’t a decision I make lightly. I hope… I can only hope you don’t resent me too much for it. You took me in and cared for me when no one else would. You’re… you’re my family. All of you. And I may be forced to walk away from the Nephilim but I’m not leaving you, not if I can help it.”

He turns his gaze hopefully in her direction and Maryse takes a moment to blink away the tears in her eyes she can’t quite keep away. She can’t help the reaction, not when her thoughts drift to her own de-runing, a decision made for her that she never would’ve chosen for herself in a million years. She thinks of the pain, of the social stigma, of the immense sense of loss she felt - and still feels, if she’s being honest with herself.

It isn’t something she’d wish on her worst enemies, and here’s the boy she raised as her own son, choosing this difficult path. It’s not the better life a mother wishes for her child, certainly not the one she wants for him. It hurts to imagine him suffering the way she suffered.

“You didn’t abandon us when you were deruned. So I know I don’t have to, either. I can make this work just like you did,” Jace says.

“Oh, Jace,” Maryse sniffles slightly, keeping the majority of her composure. “I kept a lot from you kids when that happened to me. I know I seemed fine, but…”

Jace nods. “I know. I know it isn’t going to be easy.”

You don’t, Maryse thinks. You have no idea, you sweet, sweet boy. But she doesn’t get the chance to say it before Robert cuts in, scoffing.

“Our numbers are lower than ever and you’re walking away from your duty? You’re a Herondale, the last of your bloodline. You have a legacy to uphold, and you’re just going to throw that all away? And all for some girl who, quite honestly, has caused us all more trouble than she’s worth?! This doesn’t sound like the boy I took in and raised as my own.”

Maryse hears the slight intake of breath beside her from Alec, chancing a glance at her eldest to see his hands clenched tightly at his sides. He isn’t stepping in to say anything, not yet, but Maryse knows that’s a courtesy he’ll only allow for so long before he goes off on Robert.

“Don’t give me that look,” Robert says with an eye-roll at Maryse’s surprised expression. “Coddling him isn’t going to do any good right now - he needs tough love.” Robert turns back to Jace. “You need someone to tell you what a mistake this is before you can’t take it back.”

“Tell him he’ll regret it,” Robert says, shifting to face her now. “Tell him how much you miss being a Shadowhunter, Maryse.”

Maryse rubs her hands over her arms, thinking of the runes that used to be there.

Of course, she misses the Institute. She misses the action and excitement of the only life she’s ever known… but she’s happy here, too. She doesn’t know if she’s happier than she would be as a Shadowhunter, but she’s still happy.

And it’s that knowledge, that hope that Jace could still find happiness outside the life of the Nephilim, that makes this news a little easier for her to digest the longer she has to sit with it. Nephilim spend their entire lives training to fight, raising their children to be soldiers first and foremost, and emphasizing that duty and tradition are the most important things. More important than love, or happiness, or personal choice. She looks at where that got her, looks at where it nearly got Alec and knows that she can’t sit here and endorse blindly following this idea of bloodlines and destiny if it isn’t what Jace wants to do.

“It isn’t my decision to make,” Maryse says, trying to sound calm and neutral. “Nor is it yours, Robert.”

“What?!” Maryse expects the outburst over her words to come from Robert and is surprised to hear it from Isabelle instead. “First Alec, now you? Dad and I can’t be the only ones in this family who care that Jace is throwing his entire future away!”

It’s obvious that Isabelle expected Maryse to agree with Robert. She almost had, if she didn’t stop to question her instinctive reaction.

“When you’re the only one on dad’s side maybe it’s time to recalculate,” Alec mutters, just loud enough for Maryse and Isabelle to hear. Maryse watches Isabelle bristle at the words as she turns to her daughter.

“Do you think my future was thrown away?” Maryse asks her daughter. “That my life is meaningless now?” There’s no malice there, no accusation. She won’t even be mad if Izzy says that she does - after all, it’d be more of a reflection on Maryse and the rhetoric she bought into and fed to her children for most of their lives.

Izzy falters and doesn’t respond. Silence fills the room in the absence of her reply, with Robert now silently fuming to the side. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Max who breaks the silence. In the immediate aftermath of Jace’s announcement, she’d nearly forgotten he was there at all, sitting quietly in the corner until now.

“You’ll still come to visit, won’t you?” Max asks quietly.

“You might have to come to me,” Jace admits, crossing over to kneel down in front of Max, taking his hands and giving them a little squeeze. “But yeah. We’ll still see each other. And I can still help you with your studies, and training. Just… not in Idris. Or at the Institute.”

Max considers that, then nods. “Like I visit mom for dinner, and sometimes she helps me with my runes!” Jace smiles. “Yes. Just like that. This isn’t anything we haven’t adapted to before, which is why I’m not sure why some of us are acting like it’s the end of the world.“

Jace stands up again before turning to divert his attention away from Max again, giving Isabelle a particularly pointed look.

There’s a long silence before anyone speaks again, and it’s Izzy who finally breaks the silence. Her voice is soft and she pauses after opening her mouth, as if reconsidering saying anything at all, before continuing.

“Because it isn’t the same. It isn’t the same and you know it. Mom’s de-runing was a punishment. She didn’t want it, and she never would’ve chosen to go willingly. But you…”

‘You’re choosing to go’ hangs unspoken in the air between the family.

“Mom didn’t go anywhere, and neither will I. I promise.” Jace follows his words with a heavy sigh.

“I get it if you hate me for this. I guess I should be thankful any of you are willing to accept my decision, but I guess I let myself get my hopes up because I really thought I’d have more support. All this talk about family and duty, except for when it comes to supporting your own, right?” Jace sighs again. He looks so much older than his years should allow, with a weight on his shoulders no one should have to carry.

Alec walks over and grabs one of Jace’s hands, giving it a squeeze. It’s the first thing he’s done since Jace started talking and everyone else said their piece. Isabelle said Alec already supported Jace, which means they already had this conversation before tonight. What Maryse wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for that talk. She never had a Parabatai so she can only imagine what they must be feeling.

“You got me,” Alec reassures him. “Naught but death, brother.”

The reference to their parabatai oath tugs at Maryse’s heartstrings. She’s glad that the two of them have each other, and relieved to see that no matter what may have transpired when Jace first approached Alec, Alec seems to be genuine about supporting him through this. It warms her to see that same unwavering trust and support they had from day one.

“This whole thing is ridiculous,” Robert huffs, grabbing Max by the wrist. “We can talk about this when you’re thinking clearly.”

No one stops Robert from leaving or Isabelle from following shortly after.

“Thanks anyway,” Jace tells Alec, giving him a clap on the back.

“That could’ve gone worse,” Alec points out, shooting a hesitant glance between Jace and Maryse that she pretends not to notice. Jace just gives a quick nod, a silent exchange that ends with Alec apologizing for not staying and excusing himself to go check on Isabelle.

Jace stays back after everyone leaves, and Maryse doesn’t push him to speak.

“I appreciate what you did back there,” Jace says. “I don’t know if you really believe I can do this, or if you were just saying all that to annoy Robert, but either way… thanks.”

“Of course you can do this,” Maryse tells him. “Ever since the first day you stepped through the doors of the Institute there hasn’t been a single thing you set your mind to that you didn’t accomplish.”

Now it’s her turn to hesitate, suddenly wishing the others were still around for a distraction or two before she dives into what’s on her mind.

“I have to tell you… when I got deruned it was awful. I don’t want to downplay it, Jace - it was traumatizing.” Her voice is quiet when she says it, a whispered secret she planned on covering up and taking to her grave before tonight. “I’m not telling you to scare you. I’m telling you because I did everything I could to pretend it wasn’t for the sake of you kids, but if I let you walk into it thinking you’d come out fine on the other end then I’d never forgive myself.”

Maryse shudders at the memory of it, at the knowledge of the nights she wakes up screaming over phantom pains from nightmares, or the times when her longing for that thrum of angelic power that comes with activating a rune drives her to tears or leaves her feeling like an alien in her own skin.

“I’ll tell you, if you want. I’ll be completely honest. You deserve that much because no amount of warning will really be enough, but it’s better than nothing. If you’re really, truly set on this,” she adds.

“I am. Maybe not tonight, but yeah, I might take you up on that.”

“They probably won’t let me be there when you do it,” Maryse says. “You know I would if I could.”

Jace nods. “I know. And thank you, for not siding with Robert. Even if you don’t agree with my decision, you don’t know how much it means that you let me do this.”

“I’m not letting you do anything, Jace. You’re an adult now, and your decisions are your own. I wouldn’t choose this life for you, but I can’t stop you from choosing it for yourself. And if anyone can handle the hardships that come with it, it’s you.” Maryse pauses to blink away a few stray tears. “You’ve always been headstrong, but you’re a good person, Jace. Nothing’s ever stopped you from getting exactly what you wanted in the past, and this isn’t going to be any different.”

As she talks she walks over to wrap her arms around Jace, holding him tight and speaking the last few words into the side of his neck.

“I believe in you.”

She understands Isabelle and Robert’s reactions, but she also understands that Jace is going to do this with or without their support. What Jace needs is for someone to believe in him, and if nothing else, she can give him that much.

#jace herondale #clace #isabelle lightwood #maryse lightwood #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #robert lightwood #max lightwood #long post

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elsanna-shenanigans · 4 years

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December Contest Submission #21: Even if it kills me...

words: ca. 2200 setting: canonverse/canon AU lemon: yes cw: death acceptance I guess

Once upon a time, in the faraway kingdom of Arendelle, there lived two princesses. The two, despite living in the same castle all their lives, barely saw each other. They ate their meals separately and if either of them ever accidentally entered a room with the other, it was quickly corrected.

You see, the princesses had a secret. One that only they and a very select crew of castle staff knew. The truth was, the young princesses were cursed.

The elder sister, Elsa, with the gift to command the elements of winter, was cursed with skin of ice. Any room she would enter would noticeably chill and her touch would leave a frosty print. Then there was Anna, bright and cheerful and quite literally kissed by the sun. She was cloaked in a blanket of heat and was known to accidentally scorch things just by holding it for too long. To make matters worse, their conditions only seemed to worsen with their emotions. Young Anna, in her excitement, once set a curtain on fire, and Elsa had completely frozen over more than a few rooms in her time.

Ice and fire.

And yet, there was one more secret the two shared; one that even their staff was none the wiser, ‘less they gained the ability to interpret the sidelong glances and longing eyes shared by two sisters too far apart.

It started off innocently enough. Elsa retired to her room one evening to find a letter on her desk. That itself was not unusual, as the girls would often communicate like this, leaving letters for the other to find to discuss the happenings of the day. It wasn’t unusual. Except in this case it was. There was just one sentence from the usually chatty younger sister.

‘Is it wrong that I really want to hold you?’ This was but a few days after the death of their parents, lost too soon while at sea while Elsa and Anna were 18 and 15 respectively. Elsa mulled over her response, imagining bittersweetly what fate that would wrought.

‘Is it wrong that I want you to?’

Distance never amounted to love loss for the two. As fate would have it, the girls were not always afflicted and in the before time, the two were utterly inseparable. They did everything together, and they loved to be around each other more than anything in the world. Then one day, without rhyme or reason, holding hands became agonizing. As time went on, even the slightest brush of skin on skin would result in immense pain for both of them. Elsa’s skin would be dented, as if a part of it simply melted away. And as for Anna, her skin would lose its healthy glow with blisters being quick to follow. There was usually even a hiss of steam to boot. As they grew, so did the distance between them, but never did that affect the fact that they were never far from the other’s mind. If anything, the further they were forced apart, the closer they longed to be.

It was still a long time, two years in fact, until Elsa came across another single-sentenced note. ‘Is it wrong that I really want to hold you?’

Elsa thought it strange how the same words suddenly felt so different. As if she could feel the change of intention behind the words themselves. Or, she considered, maybe it was she who changed, projecting her own desires into the words in front of her.

‘Is it wrong that I want you to..?’

Elsa prayed Anna would ignore the smudged out letter at the end. But also, deep in her heart, she hoped more that Anna would notice and respond in kind. It wasn’t long before the latter proved to be true.

The letters between the two grew more intimate with each passing day. Mundane recounts of mishaps in the court were spiced with tidbits of sweet nothings. Within months, they had blossomed into something else entirely. Filthy burning wants and illicit desires were penned irreverently and sworn to secrecy between their sheets. Distant as they were, the sisters kept each other heated through the lonely nights, naughty digits acting out the latest scripts.

And though that fed the girls’ desires, it could never satisfy them. Instead they only grew more ravenous, more longing, wishing dearly to prove to each other how true each word rang for them.

But ice and fire, it could never be.

On Elsa’s 21st birthday, another wedge found its way into their lives. Another curse. A haughty, foolish prince willing to take a gamble on Elsa’s childrearing abilities despite her “condition” decided to propose. And Elsa’s advisor’s accepted on her behalf. “It would give the people hope,” they told her. Clearly she was not considered in those numbers. And surely, nor was Anna.

Typically, gossip such as this travelled quickly through the castle but in this case, news moved slowly and quietly like a funeral procession. It didn’t reach Anna until she opened that evening’s letter.

That night, the two broke an unspoken rule. Elsa felt her sister approaching far before she heard her footsteps. Anna was… not pleased. And though they both knew intimately the price of simply sharing a room, Anna did not divert her path nor did Elsa attempt to escape. They needed to see each other more than ever in that moment.

Elsa didn’t flinch when her bedroom door was roughly pushed open. She was already standing to greet her guest, a person she hadn’t seen up close in far too long.

“Is it true?” Anna’s eyes had already become heavy. “That’s not a funny joke to tell Elsa.” Her hands were held tightly against her chest, as if that would somehow stem the pain she felt.

Elsa avoided her sister’s gaze and tried not to focus on the way Anna’s breath materialized as she spoke. She definitely ignored the droplets that had already begun rolling down her face. Elsa, always the articulate one, stumbled on the words she was trying to get out. She couldn’t find a proper excuse. Not one that she dared whisper that night. Not to Anna. “I’m sorry, Anna. I really do love you bu-”

“Then why are you going through with this?” Anna interrupted.

“Because we can’t keep doing this. We can’t just keep teasing each other forever. We can’t be together like that. We can’t be together at all!”

A heavy silence hung between them after that. Those harsh nagging thoughts that never made it past the very edges Elsa’s mind had suddenly burst forward and there was no way to take them back. She was disgusted with herself. To say something like that to Anna… even if it was the truth. Elsa held back the tears as best she could.

“We can.” Anna spoke between gritted teeth, but Elsa only shook her head. “We didn’t ask for this and we didn’t do anything to deserve it. But we sucked it up and lived with it for so long. I miss your warmth Els.”

Elsa chuckled darkly, as if mocking herself, as she analyzed her glistening hands. “I haven’t been warm in a long time.”

“Then let me share mine with you.” Anna had grown desperate. “I have more than enough, I can do it. I’ll keep you warm Els, I promise.”

Anna stepped closer to her older sister but Elsa only matched her with a step back. For the first time in a long time, Elsa looked uncertain. Anna couldn’t tell if there were tears gathering in her sister’s eyes or…

“You know what would happen.”

“I’m okay with it if you are.” Anna took an experimental step forward. And then another one. And then another. Elsa stayed put, even as the steam rose between them.

For the first time in about ten years, the sisters stood face-to-face, barely inches apart. They smiled, despite the pain the proximity brought for both of them. They looked each other up and down, becoming acquainted with the finer details of the other, their smiles growing with every little discovery.

“I never noticed you had freckles too.” Elsa brought her hand up to her own face as if to cover them and Anna knew her sister would be a blushing mess if she could. Anna’s eyes dropped lower and she winced slightly as she noticed the puddle that was gathering around her sister’s sopping shoes. “I didn’t know I could get you so wet.”

An uncharacteristic snort came out of Elsa and she was far too late to stop it. Instead she decided to bop her impudent little sister on the shoulder. A mistake. They both reeled from the contact, as light as it was, an angry blast of steam rattling them both. It wasn’t as painful as if it had been skin-to-skin but it was still enough to have both girls groaning.

Still, the moment their eyes met, they gravitated toward each other again. It was Elsa who closed the distance between them this time. Her hand moved up to her little sister’s cheek, hovering just an inch or two away. They were both gritting their teeth from the pain, but neither pulled away. When Elsa’s hand finally made contact, they both closed their eyes. Anna let out a soft whimper as her brows pressed together and she bit her lip. Every centimeter of skin Elsa touched felt like hornet stings, but Anna could only imagine that her sister was feeling the same thing.

Elsa’s next movement was so quick, neither girl had much time to prepare. Her free hand met Anna’s other cheek and they both swallowed a scream. Still neither of them pulled away. Instead, Anna brought her own hands up to cover Elsa’s.

They opened their reddened eyes, and still couldn’t help but smile at each other despite everything. Water was falling from Elsa in streams by then, and Anna’s chest heaved as she tried to ignore the pinpricks and burning in her face and fingers.

“I promise, even if it kills me,” Anna managed between pants. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“Even if it kills us,” Elsa corrected barely above a whisper. “I love you. So so much.”

Anna didn’t have to repeat the sentiment for Elsa to know it she felt the same. Their letters left no uncertain terms between them. And now they were finally getting to experience at least an ounce of the dreams they only entertained on paper. They let their eyes flutter shut again as their faces moved closer. They felt they were reaching their limits and there was no turning back now. If this were to be their final moments, they silently decided they would allow themselves at least one pleasure. And so, lips that had longed for each other for so long finally met. And as if the pain were but an illusion, the lips danced and played together, as if it was their one and only chance.

The room had been engulfed in steam thick enough to cloak their intimacy. It rolled away in wisps beneath Elsa’s door. Nearly half an hour passed before a servant’s rounds landed them in the hall to see the white clouds escaping their crown princess’s chambers.

The portly old maid pushed the doors open cautiously. Her heart nearly shot up her throat when her foot landed in a puddle of water and she saw the dress she had prepared for Her Majesty earlier that day now reduced to a crumpled, drenched mess. She screamed.

“Gerda!” The woman nearly tripped over her own feet as she caught a quick movement in the corner of her eyes. It took a few seconds for her heart to stopped pounding so quickly and for the shrouds to clear enough or her to see Elsa sitting up in her bed with a sheet pulled up to her bare chest.

“Oh m-milady! Your majesty! I thou-” Gerda did a quick curtsy, only noticing the body nestled up in the sheets beside Elsa as she came up from the dip. “A-and.. Princess Anna? Your highness,” she dipped again, obviously still flustered and confused. “The steam… a-and the water. The dre- I thought…”

“Can you get a team together to clean this up as quickly as possible?” Elsa interrupted smoothly. “I’ll spend the rest of the night in Princess Anna’s chambers as to not get in your way. Oh and can you have a message passed to my advisors,” the maid nodded. “Tell them I’m not to be disturbed tomorrow. And there will be no wedding.”

Gerda scurried off fast enough to only catch a glance at the way Anna’s arm went around Elsa’s waist, a knowing grin playing at her lips. You see the maid, as did most her age, knew that there was only one way to break a curse. She had happened across a few letters in her cleanups, so what she saw only surprised her in the moment. But even she never would have guessed… but again, there was only one way, and there is no fooling magic. She smiled as she slowed her steps, deciding that she would give them a bit more time.

#elsanna #submission #december 2020 contest #prompt: warmth

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arcticdementor · 3 years

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A reader writes:

I’m writing to you today because I have some information to share with you (and your readers) who may still be skeptical that this LGBTQIA+ gender-identity craze is coming for their kids. Some recent interactions online have made me more aware than ever that the movement is spreading in wild and unpredictable ways, and also made me reflect on how, in my own life, even someone like me could have fallen victim to it.

I want to start off by saying that recently, (and ironically, in an attempt to try not to be sucked into the internet as purely a source for doom and gloom: you will see how this backfires on me) I decided to rejoin a fan community surrounding one of my favorite franchises on Twitter. I won’t go into too much detail about which community and the exact specifics, but just know that it’s a popular franchise that’s appropriate for older kids, teens and adults (nothing 18+, nothing for really little ones). As a teen myself I was fairly active in a similar branch of this community on another social media platform (Facebook), and enjoyed it immensely before the platform eventually went more or less defunct as a hot-spot for fan content. Most of the content was fan-created work (like fan-art or fan-fiction) with a little interaction and lots of “DID YOU SEE THE LATEST” kinds of posts.

…

Anyway, to keep it to a minimum, that was then. If you’ve been on the internet any time in the last five years you know that spaces where people just talk about an interest and don’t mix it with politics and activism are becoming few and far between. Even though I knew this, and knew that I wasn’t going to have the same experience in a different place, something sparked an interest in me to go try to reconnect with my internet roots in a different setting. So, I followed some hashtags, quickly found some new followers and settled back to enjoy at least marginally some discussions online that didn’t have to do with Covid and All The Ways We Are All Going To Die.

Then came the teenagers.

Much like when I was a kid, this franchise attracts a lot of younger people. So it was hardly surprising to me to find that many of my new followers were in the 14-18 age range and that people like myself (mid-older 20s) were a sort of senior majority. That was fine- Twitter’s rules after all are 13+, so it’s not unreasonable to assume if you’re part of a popular group that you’ll interact on occasion with minors. That wasn’t the part I found strange. The part I found strange was that all of them, and I repeat, all of them were fans of two things- the franchise, and gender identities.

You can actually almost pinpoint the age range of the 18 and under crowd by how many of them have the following: 1. Pronouns in bio and in username. 2. Gender identity or lack thereof displayed in bio or username. 3. LGBTQ+ sexual orientation displayed in bio or username. etc. etc. etc. I’m not going to dive into it too much, because some might be saying “isn’t that just normal nowadays? Even politicians do that?” Well, you’re not wrong if that’s what you’re thinking. And that’s not the part that disturbs me.

What disturbed me was that, a few weeks after I joined the group, I started noticing an unsettling pattern among many of these teenage users (and many over-teen users, but I’m trying to make a point about the young ones specifically). For a few days, after an interesting bit of news or a trailer or some other thing that unites franchises, the posts in my feed would be primarily things like what I remembered from past experiences: posts about the franchises, theories, speculations, fanart, etc. But, every time things would settle back down into a quiet, normal week, the feeds in my post became almost entirely about one thing: Gender and LGBTQ talking points. I’m going to diverge for one second and say that many people in this group aren’t using a personal, front-facing account for their interactions in this fan-group. They’re mostly using alt-accounts with no real names and faces attached (myself included). And yet, every time the discussion in the feeds died down to where there was just no new stuff about the franchise to talk about, all the conversation slowly but surely shifted back to sexual orientation and gender. From fan-ships of perfect LGB couples to ‘hey I drew this person but as a trans-female!’ to even forgoing pretending to talk about their interests and just discussing their own gender and sex presentation with their other online friends, it became quickly very clear to me that A. I no longer really belonged here and B. Every single one of these kids was obsessed. Every. Single. One.

…

I’m going to digress and talk about myself for a minute to explain just why these examples, particularly that last one, burn a hole in my soul. From the minute I was old enough to remember, I’ve never been one of those typically presenting females. When my sisters and I played dress-up as kids, they played princesses and I played a prince or a witch or whatever was more interesting. In addition to the dolls and barbies I had being one of three girls, I also had an assortment of boy-oriented toys, including action figures, a remote control car and this really cool nerf bow-and-arrow set that I still secretly wish had survived my playing with it because man, my kids are gonna miss out someday. My hair was short because I hated wearing it up and the solution was a bob, and when we spent time with relatives I could be found as far away from my female cousins as possible, hanging out with my male cousins and talking about Legos and Lord of The Rings. I spent 90% of my time reading books and ignoring reality, and didn’t put much effort into my appearance until probably age 13 or later.

And I wished I was a boy.

It wasn’t an all-consuming thought, but I thought it. I wished, many times, when my parents would fuss at me to please stop attempting to climb trees in your Sunday clothes and when my sisters never talked about anything but dolls and tea-parties around their friends that I could be one of the boys. I had always liked the boys and their world better, and I fit into better, and yet there was that little problem (that I was still a girl) that kept me from being accepted into the boy group. The reality was, I was already probably very intelligent for my age (too-well read children can relate) and I took that big-headedness a little too far at times. I was also a very emotional person (still am) and just passionately felt that being a girl and being expected to do girl things was hideous and unfair.

The saving grace? My mom was the same. She’s never been a typical female either, and though as adults we have some clear differences (ironically, I have more stereotypical female interests/talents than her- like a hidden passion for interior decorating and a love of baking and so on) she was there for me, to be able to tell me that no- I didn’t really want to be a boy, I was just a girl who liked sword fights and grass-stains more than ballgowns and tea parties, and that was okay!!! She was proof that there were other girls like me, and that I would find more of them eventually (I did) and, even though we never said so in so many words, that stereotypes and how we fit into them has nothing to do with our innate female and male selves. And so, reassured that I could be female and still be however I wanted, I eventually grew out of those thoughts, and as I matured, found that there were ‘female things’ I connected with that my past self was too young to appreciate.

But, think about all this in a modern context. I’m a happy adult female now, and I was never truly gender-questioning. I just thought, for a while, that boys had more fun than I did, so I wanted to be one. But that, in it of itself, is a thought that’s deep enough for modern gender activists to insist I be transitioned immediately and put on life-altering hormones, never given a chance to grow up or grow out of questioning, and affirmed in my presentation instantly! If I, like that young girl online, had been handed a ‘gender-affirming’ flag and an identity that ‘made sense’ out of why I was different from my peers, I might have jumped on it, especially without the presence of a wise older person to tell me I wasn’t anything different than what she’d been as a child. This is the problem, this is why this kind of thing is so dangerous and toxic and wrong.

#the american conservative #letter from a reader #online fan communities

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i-write-sometimes-blog · 4 years

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You matter to me (Empress!Rey x Reader)

Request: Can you do a Empress!Rey x reader? It starts off as the reader being Rey’s prisoner and later on, Rey starts having feelings towards her and later on, grants the reader a small amount of freedom. She begins falling for Rey, too. Neither of them share their feelings until one day, something happened that put her in a bad mood and she lashes out at the reader when she was trying to ask her what happened, wanting to help her feel better. After lashing out, it brought back the reader’s fear of her and she started to keep her distance from Rey. Rey doesn’t take notice of this at first until when she needed something from the reader a couple days later. She had her back towards Rey and flinched when Rey put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. When she took a step back from Rey in fear, it made her feel bad and she apologizes for it and in the end, she felt she needed to be more protective of the reader. By anon

Words: 2,315

A/N: ngl this took me forever, I literally wrote like five different drafts for this, bc the request was awesome and I just couldn't find a way to make it justice. So here it is.

They had captured you.

This was bad, very bad. Even worse than the wounds in your body but they didn’t matter, dead would be better than being held in this immense dark palace. You had heard what she did to the rebels she captured and it was worse than dead.

The stormtroopers dragged you to her place, but didn’t feel the real terror until you saw her sitting impsing in her throne, the Empress herself a few feets away from you. Her bare presence made you shivered as an urged to scream built in the back of your throat. She seemed so dangerous.

And when she spoke damn, you were terrified.

“I’m keeping this one” she said “take her to the infirmary and then bring her to a cell.” she order to the troopers who followed as soon as she went silent.

You passed a time in a very small cell with nothing except a small and hard bed, looking at the four walls until she visited you. The first time you were beyond afraid unsure of her intentions, but she spoke in a surprisingly calm and kind way.

“How’s the wound?” she asked looking at your bandaged leg.

“B-better?” you mumbled nervous. A reassuring smile formed in her lips as rose her voice again.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you.” she said “I need your help. You have a name?"

"Y/N" you told her.

"Well, Y/N, I need you to tell me everything you know about the the Resistance, can you do that?" Gulping hard you thought for a moment, you weren't going to betray your friends, not put them in danger. But there was no much useful information so you slowly nodded.

"Excellent" she said smiling.

She kept coming every day, ask you the same questions about where was the Resistance, how many were there and how to defeat them. And you kept your word, you told her everything you knew and it was not a lie when you told her you had absolutely no idea where they were.

But that didn't stop her from visiting you every day making sure your leg was fine. The questions became deeper, she started to ask more about you than about the Resistance and allowed you to ask her things.

Rey, her name was Rey. You found out one day and immediately like it, it was a soft name, a gentle and sweet one that matched her features, so you started to call her that, not Empress anymore.

With the time she moved you from the cell to your own personal room, she said it was a reward for your cooperation though the way she looked at you made you think it was because she was falling for you and the idea curved your lips into a bright smile.

You started falling for her too, for the way she sat imposing on her throne, for the confident way she talked, for the smile she gave you every time her gaze crossed yours. You started to get closer, more than you probably should considering she was the enemy. Wherever she went you followed, at first as a command but you enjoyed being with her.

And then one day she opened up with you sitting in a balcony looking at the way the stars painted the night sky. She told you about her past, her life in the desert planet. A single tear rolled down her cheek with the memories.

You looked at her long and detailed, but all you saw was a girl broken by years of tragedy and pain. By seas of tears, false hopes and broken promises, forced to do terrible things to find peace only finding more pain and a void inside her. Not the monster everyone said she was.

Maybe that was the moment you truly fell for her, seeing her so vulnerable, so afraid. You wanted to comfort her, hold her in your arms and assure her she was more than that, to find a way to bring back that confident smile to her lips you loved. You carefully took her hand in yours, a simple yet very intimate gesture that made her smile just enough to melt your heart once again.

****

Loud screams rumbled down the hall as you walked closer to the room they came from, the voice made stronger with every new step you took. Rey’s angry voice traveled to your ears and made a shiver run down your spine and almost freeze as you finally stood in the doorframe.

There she was standing next to the holographic table that displayed a blue recording of a battlefield, she looked so upset murmuring things nonstop as she walked from side to side in the small room, her voice cracking let you know she would break down in the matter of a second so you got closer to her talking softly.

“Hey, you okay?” you said and she looked at you.

“Rebels again” she told you “They keep getting in my way and then disappearing again.” you nodded and she turned her back to you, she knew how much you worried for your friends in the Resistance. “No matter how hard I try to find them they just keep moving, and some planets are starting to stand against me, they don’t respect me. I am the Empress, they should fear even think about doing something like that without consequences..”

“It’s going to be fine” you told her placing your hand on her shoulders trying your best to comfort her.

“No it’s not, Y/N!” she yelled before she abruptly turned around making you flinch a bit apart as she continued, you looked now right into her eyes filled with all kind of negative emotions “Nothing is fine, nothing is great and surely nothing is gonna get better!”

“You can make this better, just calm down, please.” you begged her “We can solve this, it’s gonna be fine, I’ve seen you do it before. I know you will find a solution” you told her hoping to cheer her up a bit.

“No, you don’t understand, Y/N!” she exploded in anger “Nothing is gonna be fine until I destroy the Resistance! Not until I make sure every single one of them is gone!”

“Rey…” you murmured.

“Save it, Y/N. You there’s nothing you can do for me, I don’t even know why do I keep you around when you’re one of them! After all this time, all the things I’ve done for you, you still hoping they will win someday ” she hissed leaning closer to your face, the words leaving her mouth in a rush, desperate to be heard.

Rey stared at you furiously and you felt your heart racing as fast as a ship flying through lightspeed, beating fastly against your chest, with every new word a intense pain grew in your heart.

“I saved you, I healed you when you were left behind to die! They abandoned you, Y/N! They didn’t even looked back, your precious Resistance let you hurt in the ground like garbage so they could escape!” she stormed and you felt a lump forming in your throat.

“I was willing to die for them.” you murmured.

“See? You keep defending them. Tell me what have they done for you?” she stay silenced for a moment waiting for your answer “Tell me!!” she screamed sending a shiver down your spine as you closed your eyes in terror.

“What? Are you going to cry now?” she asked serious and you did your best to contain the tears pooling in your eyes. “I should have kill you when I found out you were useless, you have no information for me, I have a whole lot of engineers who could do your work with ease, you have no purpose here.” she added placing on of her hands around your neck digging her black nails in the side of it. A rush of panic invaded your body bringing back memories from the day you met this woman and thought that was the last day of your life. You gulped thickly before you rose your voice.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” you said as firm as your weak voice allowed you. The Empress just glanced at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity for you. Then she slowly let go of your neck.

“Get out of my sight.” she whispered in a dangerous and threaten tone that you obeyed immediately.

Once you were in the hall you allowed the tears to fall down your face as your heart ached, after all this time you forgot how dangerous the Empress was, how imposing and deadly she really was, maybe she was a bit different in the inside, she was soft and you had witnessed she had a good heart, but at the same time she would always be the evil ruler that sat imposing in her throne with a burning desire to conquer the whole galaxy. She could kill you if she wanted to, she would do it without blinking and you knew it. The thought invaded your head as you kept walking, filling your body with terror.

As the days went by you tried to keep your distance from the woman in dark long dress that ruled over the palace, it was a survival instinct maybe, to hide from that we know can kill us, from what we fear and you were once again terribly afraid of what she could do to you.

Staying as much time as you could in the room she had gave you, wasting your time in insignificant motor designs, fixing broken things, anything you could to be far from her. But there were times you were obligated to be around her, in meetings to discuss improvements in ships, weapons, whatever. She was there, you kept your eyes away from her, answer her questions as fast as you could but not in a warm way as before. Rey didn’t seem to notice your cold words nor the distance you built between you, she was too busy destroying cities and searching for the Resistance and it relieved you a bit but also hurt you knowing she didn’t care about you.

“Y/N?” you hear her voice as she stepped into your room, you thanked you had your back turned to the door otherwise she would had seen your face tensing as the fear slowly spread through your body. “There you are” you heard her said in a calm way, even a bit of happiness lying in her voice. “I’ve been searching for you, I thought you were somewhere else. I need your help, I don’t know this system and I don’t trust those commanders. I need to find a new base, maybe a prettier one and well, you know every planet so I want you to tell me which one’s better” she said. You kept your glance in the tiny metal item on your desk.

“Are you even listening me?” she said a bit less enthusiastic “Y/N” she repeated as you felt her warm hand on your shoulder, feeling her touch elicited goosebumps all over your skin and by a reflex you moved away from her as you stood up from the chair you were sitting finally meeting her concerned gaze.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” she asked worried taking a step closer unconsciously you took a step back.

“Please, don’t.” you shivered as she tried to take another step towards you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she said truly concerned about the fear in your eyes. She examined your features, your tensed body the she seemed to figure out the cause of your fear, her. Her mind went back to that day she screamed at you, she regretted the way she treated you, she knew she had fucked up but didn't think how much she had until then and damn it hurted her to see you this afraid of her.

"This is for the other day, isn't it?" She sighed as her gaze went to the ground searching for a way to start. "I was in a very bad mood, things went out of my control" she explained softy and calm. "And you were only trying to cheer me up, I didn't see it. I shouldn't have say all that, l just… shouldn't. I let my anger blind me and I hurt you, Y/N, the very last person I want to get hurt." She said sincerely gazing at you in her last words. You wanted to trust her again but her words kept echoing in the back of your head. You felt the need to get the feelings stuck in your chest out of you.

"You threatened to kill me" you protested remembering her nails digging in your skin.

"We both know I wouldn't" she said "I can't and I regret that day, all I said and did, I didn't mean it… I'm sorry" she stopped for a moment and took a new insecure step towards you that you didn't stop. She glimpsed at you. "You matter to me, Y/N"

You glanced at her as your heart raced softly with her words.

"You matter to me a whole lot. I'm sorry I was such an idiot back there. Please, Y/N, forgive me." she said and went quiet waiting for an answer.

Doubting for a second you stepped closer to her and placed her arms around her bringing her into a warm hug. A forgiveness hug.

"I'm sorry." She repeated as her voice cracked a little.

"We're going to be fine, Rey." you murmured caressing her back. "Just please don't try to kill me again" you chuckled trying to erase the tension in the room. And it actually worked as you heard Rey's soft giggles.

"Won't happen again, promise."

138 notes · View notes

justathoughtfulangel · 4 years

Text

The One That Got Away (Draco Malfoy Mini Series, Part Two)

Hellllooooo! Here is the second part of my Draco Malfoy Mini Series, The One. If you’d like to see more details about the series as a whole and a summary of this part or the parts to come, you can do so here. If you’d like to read more about my OC, Amara Grimaldi, you can do so here.

PLEASE read part one, The One Who was Lost, before you read this one. You can find it here.

Word count: 13, 254 (literally twice as long as part one, YIKES)

Please don’t hesitate to message me if you have any questions/comments/concerns or if you’d like to be tagged whenever I post a new part :)

Whenever you see “~~~”, I’m transitioning to a different scene. If you see “~” instead, we’re in the same scene but different characters are being shown.

If you have a hard time following the scenes, please use this scenes list as a resource.

Happy Reading!

Amara Grimaldi stood outside her home, wanting to take it in one last time. Everything was the same. The fountain flowed beautifully, birds chirped happily in the mornings, and her father, strong and unwavering, was always there to welcome her.

Ambrosi Grimaldi had watched his daughter grow in this house. It was here she discovered her passion for potion-brewing. It was here she took her first steps. It was here where he and his Lucianna had brought her after she was born. Grimaldi Manor is and always will be her home.

“I’ll see you at the wedding in a few days, Daddy.” Ambrosi smiled as much as he could and held his daughter close. Both of them knew the dangers they were in. Yet, if only for a moment, they were safe with each other.

Miles away, Harry Potter watched his cousin, aunt, and uncle drive away forever. Elsewhere, Ron Weasley stared out to the horizon, watching the setting sun. Meanwhile, Hermione Granger erased the memories of her parents, walking away from her home with just a small bag in her hand...

~~~

Amara had been braiding Gabrielle Delacour’s hair when she heard the unmistakable sound of someone apparating. “Excusez-moi, ma petite cherie.” Gabrielle nodded and smiled at Amara. “Merci beaucoup! Je peux finir seule, Amara.” Amara smiled back warmly, ducking to kiss the top of Gabrielle’s head before descending down the long, winding stairs of the Burrow.

“Herein is set forth the last will and testament of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore…” Minister Scrimgeour released the parchment, letting it float near him as he read from it. “First, to Ronald Bilius Weasley, I leave my Deluminator, a device of my own making, in hope that when things seem most dark, it will show him the light.” Ron reached out hesitantly to take the Deluminator and clicked it once. Two orbs of light from the nearby lamps floated into it, and then returned once he clicked it again.

Amara smiled softly as Ron mumbled, “Wicked!” under his breath. Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow, but he continued. “To Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard in hopes that she finds it entertaining and instructive.” Hermione took the book, flipping through its pages once. Ron babbled about the stories in the book while Harry and Hermione looked baffled. Amara assumed Scrimgeour was getting impatient, and he was. “To Amara Lucianna Grimaldi, I leave my copy of Hogwarts: A History, in hopes that she finds solace in the knowledge it provides.”

Amara took the book gingerly. The book was immensely fragile with age and she took great care in opening the cover. Its contents were very different from the copy Amara owned; Dumbledore’s copy was certainly an earlier edition, perhaps one of the first to be written. “Lastly, to Harry James Potter, I leave him the Golden Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch game at Hogwarts as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill.” Amara’s head snapped up from the book. She shared a look with Hermione as Harry reached out to accept the Snitch. Yet, when his fingers grasped the cool metal, nothing happened.

Amara was expecting Scrimgeour to bid them goodbye but found he had more to read. “Dumbledore has left you a second bequest, Mr. Potter, the sword of Gryffindor. However, the sword was not Dumbledore’s to give away. It belongs to-”

Hermione quickly interjected, “Harry. It belongs to Harry. He drew the sword from the hat in our second year. It came to him in his time of need.” Amara knew that didn’t make the sword Harry’s, and she would’ve said so had the Minister not beat her to the chase. In any case, Amara was thinking about why Dumbledore left Harry the sword.

Dumbledore did not do anything without reason. Everything they had received was given to them for a purpose; who received what item was equally important.

Amara was brought out from her thoughts when Scrimgeour tried to tell Harry to give up. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Mr. Potter, but you can’t fight this war on your own. He’s too strong.” Amara happened to be sitting closest to Harry and she placed her hand on his shoulder supportively. Harry had always known he would either win this war or die trying; he didn’t need a reminder of how difficult things would be.

~~~

For now, things were brighter. Bill and Fleur had a beautiful wedding. Laughter and smiles could be seen everywhere, despite the dark times. Amara’s hand went to her bag and she clutched it, knowing she had everything should she and her friends have to Disapparate without warning.

From the corner of his eyes, Ambrosi noticed his daughter’s fingers tightening anxiously around the handbag he bought her for her 15th birthday. His hand rested on top of hers gently. “Amara, everything is fine.” Amara took a deep breath and managed to smile up at her father. Worries still plagued her mind and Ambrosi could see them in her eyes, but he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Dance with me, sweetheart.”

This time, Amara beamed genuinely. Hermione happened to be nearby and took her bag from her, gesturing her head towards the dance floor which at the moment was occupied by Luna and her father as well as Fleur and Monsieur Delacour. Amara took her dad’s hand and still found peace in it. 17 years of life and her father’s hand was still the one she turned to for guidance. It was still what she needed to reassure her when everything seemed strange.

Ambrosi held his daughter close and danced with her slowly, fighting the tears welling in his eyes. When Amara noticed them, she very gently wiped one away. “Don’t cry, Dad. We’ll see each other soon.” Ambrosi smiled and kissed his girl’s forehead. “When did you get so big, my dear? I remember when I would waltz around with you in our living room. Now you’re about to run off and save our world. Before I know it, we’ll be at your wedding.” Amara’s life had seemed to drag on in her mind, but it was quite the opposite for her father. He hadn’t realized when she had transformed into a beautiful woman from his adorable little girl. Time had passed too quickly for his liking.

“I want you to keep this, angel.” Ambrosi’s hand slipped his heavy golden ring from his finger, placing it in her palm. It bore the crest of the Grimaldi family. “I know you have your own, but I want you to have this piece of me when you’re off with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Return it to me the next time you see me.” It was far too big for Amara to wear, so she closed her hand around it. “Thank you, Daddy.” She reached to unclasp the thin chain she always wore. That necklace had one of her mother’s rings hanging from it, and she slid the Grimaldi family ring onto it as well.

“This way, you and Mumma will always be close to my heart, no matter how far we are.” Ambrosi’s eyes twinkled as he hugged his daughter. “I’m so proud of you. I know your mother would be too. I love you with all my heart, Amara. Remember that, always.” Amara couldn’t find her voice, so she just nodded. Eventually, she was able to speak. “Please stay safe.” Ambrosi smoothed Amara’s hair soothingly and kept his voice calm and reassuring. “I will, dear, I will.”

Before anyone had the chance to say anything else, Kingsley’s Patronus ran right in between Amara and her father, who held her close as it spoke. “Scrimgeour is dead. The Ministry has fallen. They are coming.” Ambrosi gave his daughter one more kiss before letting her go. “Get out of here, Amara. We’ll hold them off.” Death Eaters began Apparating into the tent and Amara frantically looked for Hermione, Ron, and Harry. “I love you, Dad!”

Ron and Hermione finally reached Amara and Remus shoved Harry to them. Within seconds, they had vanished.

Draco thrummed his fingers against his sleek, mahogany desk. He opened the first drawer to his left, one that he kept locked. Within it was a picture of Draco and Amara from when they were 10, among other memories he wished to treasure alone.

The picture was bright and colorful; Little Amara’s smile shined through her eyes and Little Draco, even then, looked at the camera only momentarily before looking at her. Draco closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, he saw his Amara as she was now: kind, brave, loving, and still beautiful as ever.

He knew that she was likely at the Weasley wedding. In his cowardice, he was grateful that the Dark Lord didn’t force him to partake in the attack. Draco wouldn’t have been able to stand hurting Amara or those she cared about. He wanted Potter to win. He wanted all of this to be over.

Just as Draco went to put the picture away, he heard a woman scream downstairs. His first instinct was that the scream came from his mother. Leaving the picture on his desk, Draco Apparated down to his foyer to see his Aunt Bellatrix bleeding from her cheek as his mother hovered over her. Before he could sigh in relief at his mother being safe, he heard his aunt spit out curses and vow to kill every single member of the Order.

Draco closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. His thoughts found their way to Amara once more. Wherever they were, he hoped that she and her father stayed safe.

Up the stairs and through the door to Draco’s bedroom, Little Draco looked at Little Amara once more, his eyes gleaming with innocence and happiness. Draco hadn’t felt such joy in years, nor did he know if he ever would again.

~~~

A week or so had passed since they had run from the wedding. They had taken shelter at number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry was exploring the house, and Ron was playing Fur Elise rather badly as Hermione tried to teach him; Amara could hear it even though she was in the kitchen. They had nothing much to do until Kreacher came back with Mundungus Fletcher.

Amara spent most of her time flipping through Hogwarts: A History, simultaneously looking at her copy and the one Dumbledore left her. She wanted to find the difference between the two, needing to know why Dumbledore left her this copy specifically. There was something hidden in here that he wanted Amara to find. She had already found numerous details that weren’t in her edition, such as more details regarding Slytherin’s thoughts behind making and sealing the Chamber of Secrets or a cup that Helga Hufflepuff created which was likely one of the first utensils ever used in the Great Hall. They must have been edited out with time or deemed irrelevant.

Amara was about to give up for the night before she paused. This page was entirely blank. She knew the Ministry had thoroughly examined each object bestowed to them. Whatever was hidden on this page would not reveal itself by a spell. “Hermione!” Amara wracked her brain as the piano keys stopped ringing immediately and Hermione rushed into the kitchen. “What is it?”

She took a minute to respond, the wheels in her mind churning with determination. “You know the Ministry has searched all of the items Dumbledore left to us in his will?” Amara turned the book to show Ron and Hermione the blank page. “They were looking for enchantments, spells, etc. What if Dumbledore hid something on this page using a non-magical method?” Hermione’s eyes lit up in recognition and summoned a lemon, a knife, and some cotton swabs.

“That’s ingenious, Amara. If Dumbledore has hidden something on this page in a non-magical manner, it would most likely be invisible ink.” Hermione was slicing a lemon just as Harry walked in; Ron leaned over to fill him in quickly in the background. When Amara gently brushed the lemon juice over the page, everyone watched with bated breath.

Gasping softly, Amara saw the message appearing beneath her fingertips. Noticing how faint it was, Harry quickly cast Lumos, his wand hovering over the page. It wasn’t a message, it was a riddle. Hermione read it aloud as Amara finally moved away. The four of them stood around the table, reading Dumbledore’s handwriting as it gleamed up at them.

“For one destroyed, false security was the answer.

He first tried with a memory.

Then, he relied on his grandfather.

He craved excellence, wisdom, and victory.

He had one companion left

When he tried to escape his downfall, he left himself there.

In the end, there was only him.”

Ron groaned in frustration. “If he wanted to hide a message, why did it have to be another puzzle to solve?!” Amara said nothing, still reading and rereading Dumbledore’s message. Harry sighed as well, though he was the one who discerned why. “Dumbledore must have known they would search his things. If he felt the need to hide this specific riddle, it must be crucial information Dumbledore didn’t want in the wrong hands.”

They were interrupted with the resonating crack of Apparation, and Amara slammed the book closed, the words imprinted on her mind. Kreacher and Dobby appeared, dragging Mundungus Fletcher along. “Dobby?!” Dobby began explaining why he tagged along as everyone in the room cornered Mundungus. “Look, I panicked that night, alright’?! Could I help it if Mad-Eye fell off his broom?” Hermione dangled the locket in front of him as Harry shut him up quickly. “While you were here, did you steal a locket- don’t deny it!- that looked like that one? What did you do with it?”

“Why, was it valuable?” He had quite the audacity to ask such a question. “Do you still have it?” Amara chimed in, while Ron scoffed. “He’s probably worried he didn’t get enough money for it.” This time, Mundungus had the sense to look remorseful. “Bleedin’ gave it away, didn’t I? I was scuffling ‘round Diagon Alley when some Ministry hag asked to see me license. Said she had a mind to turn me in, ‘til she took a shine to my locket.”

“Who was she? This woman. What did she look like?” Mundungus began to respond once more until his eyes fell to an old copy of the Daily Prophet. “Well, that’s her right there. Bleedin’ bow and all!”

Amara grabbed the paper to set it on the table, and the four of them shared a look. Though the image was black and white, Amara could see the sickening pink of her suit. “Umbridge.”

~~~

The clothes of Marietta Edgecombe’s mother, Madame Edgecombe, were beginning to loosen around Amara’s body while Albert Runcorn’s face bubbled and morphed back into Harry’s. Realizing they had no time to waste, Amara stunned Umbridge and Hermione ripped the locket from her neck. Ron took Mary Cattermole along with them and they sprinted into the elevator before the Dementors got too close.

Harry cast the Patronus charm and they were immediately off. By then, the effects of the Polyjuice Potion had worn off for everyone besides Ron, and Amara was sure she’d seen a camera flash behind them. Ron spoke to Mary Cattermole, instructing her to take the kids and run. As she pulled her ‘husband’ into a kiss, Ron began morphing back into himself. He looked rather embarrassed, even more so when the real Reginald Cattermole saw his wife kissing a stranger.

“Long story, sorry!” They had no time to indulge this awkward moment. Yaxley shot a spell aimed at Harry, and Hermione noticed that the grates to the fireplaces were slamming down one by one. The four of them managed to enter one, but not before Yaxley got a hold of Ron’s arm.

When Amara landed on her feet, she saw they had not returned to Grimmauld Place but had landed in some forest instead. Gasping softly as she saw Ron’s torn shoulder joint, Amara immediately opened her bag and dug around for Dittany. She threw the bottle to Hermione and tried to catch her breath. “Hermione, I thought-”

Hermione was soothing a whimpering Ron, trying to administer the searing droplets of Dittany. “Yaxley must have gotten ahold of Ron, Harry. It wasn’t safe for us there anymore.” Hermione nodded, wiping away some tears. “I had to get us out of there, but Ron got splinched.” Amara’s eyes softened and Harry looked like he was at a loss for words. She patted Harry’s shoulder gently. “The tent is in my bag, Harry. Set it up, please? I’ll do the enchantments.”

Harry was frozen for a few moments. So many people had gotten hurt for him. How many more would before this ended? Amara’s gentle hand to his shoulder broke him from his daze, and he went to begin building the tent.

Amara glanced back at her friends once more, worry flitting through her eyes. “Repello Muggletom, Salvio Hexia, Muffliato Maxima….”

~~~

Ambrosi sighed concernedly, setting the paper down. Amara was pictured, clear as day, running from numerous Ministry officials who fired various spells at her. When he turned the page, he saw his daughter’s face on a Wanted poster.

Artemis had come to settle next to him, hooting sadly and nudging Amara’s picture with her talons. Ambrosi brought his hand up to pet her gently and she nibbled on his finger affectionately in return. He was doing his best to keep his promise to Amara, but it was immensely difficult to stay safe. While Grimaldi Manor was protected, Ambrosi wouldn’t be should he have to leave for any mission for the Order.

He had lost his beloved wife because of this darkness; he hoped and prayed for his Amara’s safety every day. She would not lose him because of this War, he would make sure of it.

~~~

Amara was pacing around the perimeter of their safe haven, her arms hugging a black shawl to her body. From her neck dangled the two rings on a small chain, clinking softly as she walked. As she got closer to the tent, she overheard Harry snapping at Hermione for not doing enough for Ron. Amara, too, had been working on brewing a healing potion, but it was proving to be very difficult with the limited number of ingredients she brought with her.

Amara stood in front of Harry, stretching out her hand. “Take it off. The Horcrux.” Harry tugged the locket from his neck aggressively, immediately letting out a loud sigh of relief. “Better?” Harry nodded silently, and Amara clasped it around her neck. “We’ll wear it in turns.”

From inside the tent, Ron’s radio crackled, and Lee Jordan’s voice rang out clearly. The locket now hung right next to Ambrosi’s ring, chittering maliciously as always. As night fell, Harry, Hermione, and Amara headed into the tent. Amara had made her way into the kitchen, not quite thinking of anything but dinner. Deciding on some quick spaghetti, Amara got a pot of water boiling and dug around her bag for a jar of sauce.

“And now for some sobering news. We’ve just received word that our beloved friend, Nectar, has been murdered by Death Eaters just miles away from his home. Let’s all have a moment of silence in his memory.” The jar of pasta sauce fell from Amara’s fingers and crashed to the floor. Hermione rushed over to her but faltered slightly. Amara’s face was entirely expressionless.

No one spoke or moved for the next minute. The crackle from Ron’s radio broke the silence. “To those that knew him, Nectar was a benevolent man, an unwavering father, and a strong friend. He died a hero. In Nectar’s honor, the password for our next broadcast will be Grimaldi. Stay safe everyone, Potterwatch will be back as soon as possible.” Amara walked over the broken glass and clung to her shawl, exiting the tent numbly.

Ron came out from the bedroom, his eyes wet with tears and one trailing down his face. Hermione went over to him and hugged him close, both of them sobbing silently. Harry felt his heart shattering. Of all of them, he could understand Amara’s pain best. Ambrosi was beloved by all. He was one of the few men he trusted dearly, possibly the one he trusted most after Sirius and Remus.

Amara stood outside the tent, the snow falling around her, contrasting harshly against her black shawl. Silent tears were streaming down her face. The cold air was thinning around her, suffocating her until she couldn’t breathe. Her knees gave way from her shock just as Harry came out, quickly catching her. When she felt Harry’s arms around her, something in Amara snapped.

She let out a wail, one that could have been heard for miles had they not put up a sound barrier. That wail gave way to broken, choked sobs as Amara clung to Harry. The cold around them couldn’t compare to the shattering grief inside her, threatening to consume her at any second.

Inside the tent, Hemione placed a hand over her mouth and Ron closed his eyes in pain when they heard Amara’s scream. Harry didn’t know what to say or do besides holding her. He knew this pain, and in this pain, no one could say anything to make it better. Things would be dark until something -anything- gives you a glimmer of hope. Amara had been there for him the most after Sirius’s death, and he would do the same.

Bellatrix’s cackles rang through the foyer of Malfoy Manor. Draco gritted his teeth, not interested in another gleeful rant about which Order member or muggleborn family she had killed now. His fingers clutched his mug of tea, burning with the heat encircling them.

“I told you, Cissy! I told you I would kill that blood-traitor!” Draco managed to take a sip, the hot tea scalding his throat. He stood, about to make his way to his bedroom for the night. “That Ambrosi Grimaldi got what was coming to him.”

Draco’s mug hit the floor, shattering into tiny shards. The tea swam across the wooden floor. Draco said nothing. He couldn’t. He didn’t trust his voice, nor his ears in this moment.

In her cheerful reverie, his aunt ignored it completely. Narcissa’s eyes immediately shot to Draco. Lucius, too, hardened as he stood, unreadable as always. Somehow, Draco got his feet to move. The winding staircase to the bedrooms seemed even longer to Draco now, his feet dragging with effort as he moved.

While Bellatrix danced around the room, her sister’s eyes followed Draco as he trudged upstairs. She wanted to follow him but thought otherwise when she heard Draco’s door slam shut.

The Muffliato cast over his bedroom would have stifled his scream had he not gone out to his balcony. It rang out across the immaculate lawns, frightening the peacocks roaming around. He lost the man who cared for him just as Amara did. Amara…

Swallowing hard, Draco closed his eyes, letting himself feel the hot tears streaming down his face. How much more would she have to lose? How much more was this War going to take from them all?

~~~

Amara had been in a daze these past few days. They weren’t making much progress with the search, nor were they any closer to deciphering Dumbledore’s riddle. She couldn’t sleep. Should her eyes droop shut for even just a few minutes, the Potterwatch broadcast played in her mind like a reel on replay.

Hermione’s rhythmic snipping of scissors was nearly silent as she attempted to give Harry a haircut. Harry found it entirely unnecessary; it was just something to pass the time. His mind was elsewhere: the night of Bill and Fleur’s wedding when he last spoke to Ambrosi. He found it more important than ever to remember these words.

The wedding had transitioned into the reception seamlessly. Harry found himself surrounded by many red-headed Weasleys and members of the Order, the atmosphere high with celebrations. He was sitting at a table alone when he was joined by Ambrosi who put a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

Ambrosi knew they would be leaving tomorrow; before he went to dance with his daughter, he wanted to come talk to Harry. The war brewing and the lives lost had a devastating impact on Harry. Ambrosi felt the responsibility of lightening his burden as much as he could. “Harry… It can be very easy to blame ourselves for grievances in life, especially when we are there to witness them. For years, even before I knew of Sirius’s innocence and Pettigrew’s deceptions, I did not blame Sirius for the death of Lucianna... I blamed myself. I believed I should have been the one to go to Godric’s Hollow that night in her stead.” Harry swallowed softly, and Ambrosi’s eyes gleamed softly with his wisdom and kindness. It was the same look Amara often had in her eyes. She was more like her father than she knew.

“In some ways, that feeling has never gone away. And yet… When I think of our world now, I think of the other eleven people who were murdered that night and the countless lives being lost because of the darkness in our world. People leave this world and new souls are created every second. Our proximity to death doesn’t make death our fault.” Ambrosi’s voice never wavered. It was strong and reassuring, and Harry absorbed the words as much as he could. “This war has been building for a long time. Lives have been lost, and unfortunately, we’ll lose others we love as well. Remember who you are, Harry. Not what is happening around you, not what may happen. Remember who you are, and this war will not be able to steal you away from yourself.”

“Oh my God!” As the scissors clattered to the floor, Harry was pulled away from his thoughts. Hermione rushed to the kitchen, digging through her bag and pulling out one of her many books. Harry followed her quickly, ignoring the incessant crackling of Ron’s radio. Amara stepped into the tent, shivering from the cold outside. Her emotional numbness dissipated slightly when she took in the excitement exuding from Hermione. “The sword of Gryffindor… it’s goblin-made!” Amara’s eyes widened and she went to join Hermione at the table. “That’s amazing news!”

Harry looked at the two of them in bewilderment, completely not understanding why the sword being goblin-made had anything to do with the sudden cheer (and also because this was the first time he’d seen light in Amara’s eyes in weeks). Hermione exhaled in exhilaration and spoke, “You’ve already destroyed a Horcrux, haven’t you? Tom Riddle’s diary.”

“With a Basilisk’s fang! Don’t tell me you and Amara have one of those in your bloody little bags.” Harry reached across the table to see the book Hermione was flipping through. “You don’t understand. The blade of the sword does not rust or dull over time... It only takes in what makes it stronger.” A glimmer of understanding shined in Harry’s eyes. “The sword is impregnated with Basilisk venom. Which is why…”

“Why Dumbledore left it to me in his will! You are brilliant, Hermione, truly.” Hermione babbled in her exhilaration, humbly disregarding Harry’s compliment. “There’s only one problem, of course.” Before Harry could continue, the lights in the tent suddenly switched off, plunging them into momentary darkness. When they came on again, Ron was standing to their immediate left, the Deluminator clenched harshly in his fist. “The sword was stolen.”

Amara was the first to recognize Ron’s anger. “Ron… the Horcrux. Have you been wearing it all day?” He completely ignored her, plundering on as his emotions overruled his mind. “Yeah, I’m still here. But you two carry on. Don’t let me spoil all the fun.” His tone made the girls blanch with worry. “What’s wrong?” Ron scoffed as if Harry’s question was utterly ludicrous.

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Not according to you, anyway.” Harry’s jaw began to set, hardening with irritation. “Look, if you’ve got something to say, don’t be shy. Spit it out.” The argument escalated; Ron was seething internally, and it was only a matter of time before his anger bubbled over like lava and burned those near him. “Alright, I’ll spit it out. But don’t expect me to be grateful now that there’s another damn thing we’ve got to find.”

“I thought you knew what you signed up for.” Harry’s eyes were wide, not used to this kind of behavior from Ron. This wasn’t like him at all. “Yeah, I thought I did too.” Harry began to get up and approached Ron, ignoring Amara’s hand as she reached out to grab his wrist and hold him back. “Well then, I’m sorry, but I don’t quite understand. What part of this isn’t living up to your expectations? I mean, did you think we were gonna be staying in a 5-star hotel? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you’d be back with your mum by Christmas?”

“I just thought, after all this time, we would have actually achieved something. I thought you knew what you were doing! I thought Dumbledore would’ve told you something worthwhile.” Hermione came to stand next to Ron, not knowing how to help. Ideas on how to deescalate the situation ran through Amara’s mind, but she wasn’t confident that anything would work at this point. “I told you everything Dumbledore told me, and in case you haven’t noticed, we have found a Horcrux already.”

“Yeah, and we’re as close to getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them, aren’t we?” Hermione reached for the Horcrux, begging him to take it off. “Ron, please... You wouldn’t be saying any of this if you hadn’t been wearing it all day.” He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Do you know why I listen to that radio every night? I listen so I don’t hear Ginny’s name. Or Fred, or George, or my mum.”

“You think I’m not listening to? You think I don’t know how it feels?” “No, you DON’T know how it feels! Your parents are dead; you have no family.” The scathing words thundered around the four as Harry jumped forward, wanting to expel his anger but unable to hurt his best friend. “Fine, then go! Go then!” Ron tugged the Horcrux off furiously, not even faltering when he saw Hermione’s tears.

Amara’s heart panged, the cracks in it searing her painfully. “And you? Are you coming or you staying?” Hermione looked at Ron and then to Harry and Amara. She couldn’t say anything, but Amara nodded to her softly. Ron would need her with him; it was far too dangerous for him to leave alone, and it wouldn’t be right to leave Harry alone either.

Hermione wordlessly agreed, and Amara knew she would bring Ron back as soon as she could. Dumping some of her books onto the table, she grabbed her bag with the tears streaming down her face. Harry understood though he couldn’t honestly say he didn’t feel betrayed. Ambrosi’s words came to his mind as they Disapparated. Remember who you are, Harry. Not what is happening around you, not what may happen. Remember who you are, and this war will not be able to steal you away from yourself.

~~~

Harry came to join Amara outside. She was sitting with her back against a tree, her eyes closed as she breathed in the frosty, winter air. When she heard the scuffle of Harry sitting beside her, Amara didn’t open her eyes but rather just leaned to rest her head against his shoulder and made sure her blanket covered him as well. He hummed softly in contentment, asking her what she was thinking about.

“I was remembering a trip I took with my father and Draco one winter. His parents were taking a vacation and Draco hated being left behind, so he came to stay with us. We would spend the day skiing or flying or building castles of snow… My dad would turn in around an hour or so before we did, and we’d sit by a fireplace, reading together or just talking.” Harry’s arm came around Amara’s shoulder and he smiled softly. That didn’t sound like the Malfoy he knew, but he could hear a smile in Amara’s voice. She truly cherished these memories… she truly cherished him.

“You love him.” Harry didn’t ask a question. He knew, just as she did. “Yes, I love him. Even if he may not show that he loves me too.” They sat together in comfortable silence. A few birds chirped around them and a soft wind blew through the grand conifers. Harry and Amara were both hurting, but just for these silent moments, their pain could be pushed aside.

~~~

As Amara woke the next morning, the day felt brighter. There seemed to be a palpable hum of energy in the air, something that had all but vanished in the last few months. Harry was nowhere in sight, but Amara heard people talking outside. Shooting out of bed immediately, she grabbed her cardigan and rushed out of the tent, worry clearly etched onto her face. Her feet faltered once she made it out of the mouth of the tent; her features lit up with relief.

Hermione rushed to Amara and threw her arms around her. Harry was smiling for the first time in a while. From the corner of her eyes, Amara saw the Sword of Gryffindor in Ron’s hand, the morning sun reflecting off of the blade and shining onto the destroyed locket in his other hand. “You found it! Where?” Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, both of them remembering last night’s events and Hermione sighed softly as she thought of the locket’s torturous words to Ron.

The quartet headed into the warm tent and Amara began making some tea as she was brought up to speed with the events. The searingly harsh Horcrux was not a surprise to Amara; she remembered all too clearly how the Horcrux in Tom Riddle’s diary had wanted to kill Harry. It made perfect sense, actually. Twisted, dark souls could only bring pain and destruction.

Even so, the energy didn’t dissipate from around the four friends. There was a shining sense of hope when they were reunited. No one forgot at how quickly that hope could be torn away from them, but they all clung on to it anyhow.

When Amara gave Hermione her tea, she handed something to Amara in return: Dumbledore’s copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Amara flipped to the page that was marked, her fingers brushing against the inscription that followed “The Tale of the Three Brothers.” Harry peered over Amara’s shoulder curiously while the wheels in Amara’s mind churned away. Surely this wasn’t a rune she had seen before.

“I’ve seen that… Xenophilius Lovegood was wearing that symbol at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.” Amara’s eyebrows shot up as she experienced a stifled epiphany. She had an idea about what the symbol could mean, but voicing her idea was not the best way to go about this, not when Ron’s motive for leaving was based on more things they had to find. She would wait for Luna’s father to confirm or deny her suspicions before she brought this up. “We need to go see him.”

~~~

“That treacherous little… Is there no one we can trust?!” Ron’s agitation spilled from his mouth and echoed against the trees surrounding them. “They took Luna, Ron. He was desperate.” Harry was angered as well, but not at Xenophilius. He was angry with himself. The thoughts he often tried to dispel spun around in his head again. He did not want more people to get hurt for him. Before Harry could recall Ambrosi’s words and ground himself, Hermione froze in his peripheral vision.

Just a few feet from them, Snatchers lounged against the trees, looking for their next targets lazily. “Well don’t hang about, snatch ‘em!” Amara had to take Hermione’s hand and drag her out of her shock. In his shock, Ron stumbled and ran as fast as he could. Even as they began to run, Amara knew they would not make it away safely; they could not Disapparate away together, they wouldn’t get close enough.

As discreetly as she could, Amara sent a Stinging Jinx in Harry’s direction. His cry of pain was muffled by the bracken covered ground as he tripped. Hermione, now completely back to her senses, grabbed Harry’s glasses and stuffed them into her bag. Harry’s glasses were far too recognizable. At the same time, Amara took up some mud and caked it onto her neck and cheek. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. Amara Grimaldi’s face was next to Harry’s on the Wanted posters.

Wracking her brain for whatever she could do in the limited amount of time they had, Amara thought of only one spell: Crinus Muto. It was an exceedingly difficult spell, one of the last she had learned from Professor McGonagall. If performed incorrectly, the results would be disastrous.

Yet, by some stroke of luck (or perhaps by the skill Amara had), she was no longer recognizable. Her long, mahogany locks had transformed into short strands of blonde silk. The Snatchers had thankfully been unable to see Amara’s transformation and were stupid enough to assume that one member of the group got away. No matter. There were four more prizes to collect.

Four of the Snatchers grabbed each of the four friends while the leader sauntered around them arrogantly. He questioned them individually, trying to see which would crack first. Hermione chose to say she was Penelope Clearwater, and Ron said he was Barney Weasley. Amara’s lie had come to her quickly: Marietta Edgecombe, the pureblood daughter of Madame Edgecombe whom she had impersonated a few weeks ago.

Her breath caught in her throat when the leader, Scabior, paused in front of Harry. His eyes lingered on Harry’s forehead for much longer than necessary. “Change of plans… we’re not taking this lot to the Ministry.”

The days were passing. Each moment suffocated Draco more and more. His thoughts never strayed too far from Amara. Was she safe? What was she doing? When would he see her again? When could she be allowed to properly grieve? When would this all end? Would the two of them be able to walk away from this alive?

Narcissa paused at Draco’s door, observing as Draco’s shoulders slumped forward. Long gone was the laughter that warmed this household. Long gone was the light in his eyes. “Draco…” Her heart broke even further when her son looked into her eyes. Every inch of her was aching to grab her child and shield him from the horrors of this life, an instinct she had been attempting to ignore for years now.

“Yes, Mother?” His voice echoed his desolation. Draco had lost the capacity to feel anything. “Your Aunt Bellatrix is calling you. We believe you can identify some traitors.” Even before she came to get her son, Narcissa knew that these were no traitors. Traitors to the Dark Lord, perhaps, but not traitors to the good in the world. Amara had transfigured herself physically, which was a remarkable feat in itself, given that she was not a Metamorphagus. Human transfiguration spells were known to be exceedingly difficult and even dangerous to maintain. Amara could not, however, transfigure the mannerisms ingrained into her. How she carried herself. Her facial expressions. The way she pressed the pad of her thumb to her index finger when she lied, a movement so small you’d have to look for it to see it. Narcissa could see it was her almost immediately.

Draco stood and passed his mother. His lifelessness had scared him once, too, but now it was just who he was. It was who he had to become since he rejected Amara in the hospital wing months ago. Narcissa did not have time to warn her son; their house was no longer safe, their walls had ears. His descent down the winding staircase was not rushed. A memory flitted through his mind: Amara at age eight, daring Draco to slide down the banister. Would they ever know such joy again?

“Ah, Draco! So good of you to join us.” Draco looked up at the sound of her voice just out of habit. When he did, his feet faltered. He prayed it wasn’t noticeable. His eyes fell on Granger and Weasley, and then to the blonde girl standing next to them, mud drying on her neck and left cheek, obscuring her features. Draco’s confusion lasted only a fraction of a second. His aunt’s next words cleared them up immediately.

The Snatchers had not been dismissed. Bellatrix enjoyed an audience. Whether that audience would witness the Dark Lord’s reward to the family or if they would witness a murder by her hands was irrelevant. “I have reason to believe that the imp I am holding is none other than the chosen one himself.” The biting sarcasm tore through her voice, but he no longer heard anything. Noises muted in the background. If this was Potter, Granger, and Weasley… then the blonde girl was Amara. There was no other option.

Bellatrix tugged on Harry’s hair, revealing the scar which stretched across his forehead. “Well?” She looked at Draco expectantly, growing frustrated when his answer was weak. “I can’t be sure.” Lucius had been listening silently up until this point. His loyalties had never externally wavered, but he, too, wanted this war over. “Look closely, son. If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, all will be forgiven. All will be as it was, do you understand?” Draco swallowed hard and took a cautious step forward.

“Don’t be shy, sweetie. Come over.” Bellatrix pulled Draco by the arm gently, bringing him to his knees in front of Harry. “If this isn’t who we think it is, Draco, and we call him, he’ll kill us all. We need to be absolutely sure.”

Draco was sure. “What’s wrong with his face?” The scar didn’t give him away, his eyes did. Draco had glared into them enough times to know what they looked like. “Yes, what is wrong with his face?” Bellatrix echoed the question. “He came to us like that. Something he picked up in the forest, I reckon.”

Harry was not entirely surprised that Draco had not given him away. He was slowly starting to see the Draco his friend loved. He was there, hiding underneath the surface, just as Amara always said. “Or ran into a Stinging Jinx.” Amara’s heart thudded in panic. Hermione glanced at Amara anxiously, but she held her ground as Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed on her. Narcissa clutched Lucius’s arm, frightened for the girl whom she loved like a daughter. She was unable to protect her, just as she was unable to protect Draco. “Give me her wand, I want to see what her last spell was.”

A pleased, evil giggle came from Bellatrix and she continued to step towards Amara. “Got you.” She paused then, her glee molding into fear. “What’s that?” Bellatrix’s voice was no more than a whisper. Her eyes gestured toward the Sword of Gryffindor which was being held by a Snatcher. “Where did you get that from?” Scabior seemed a bit bored, having seen many such encounters. “It was in her bag when we searched her.” He took the sword and pointed it at Amara. “Reckon it’s mine now.”

The grin on Scabior’s face was wrenched away with Bellatrix’s spell, casting him back towards the stairwell and the Sword flew into her hand. “Get out!” Exuding a whip from the tip of her wand, Bellatrix attacked the other Snatchers, beating them until they scrambled away. Her eyes came to narrow on Amara. “Cissy, put the boys and the mudblood in the cellar.” Ron, Harry, and Hermione were pulled away by Narcissa and then pulled down the stairs by Pettigrew. Their screams and protests fell on deaf ears.

Amara’s face had not changed, even when she had a very good idea of what was coming. “I want to have a little conversation with this one.” Bellatrix wasted no time with theatrics now. She made her way to Amara very quickly, pausing only when the necklace Amara wore gleamed in the light. Amara inhaled sharply, and her focus slipped. Her magic could no longer maintain the disguise. Even if it did, it would have been meaningless. The necklace held her father’s ring; the crest of the Grimaldi family was all too recognizable.

When Harry and Ron were tossed to the dungeon floor, they heard Bellatrix’s cackle. It was joyful once again. She had found another motivation for torturing Amara, not that she needed convincing. Amara’s blonde hair reverted to its natural state, and Bellatrix took a handful, using it to throw the girl to the ground. Despite her pain, Amara clenched her jaw shut, refusing to scream or speak. She would not give this murderer any form of satisfaction. “I had hoped to kill you the same day I killed your father, but I suppose that can be taken care of now.” In her taunting, Bellatrix did not see that Narcissa and Lucius had to restrain Draco. Attacking his aunt would only bring more pain to Amara, and a part of Draco knew that. How could he be expected to watch the girl he loved -he had stopped denying it long ago- be torn apart?

“How brave. Your father was brave too. But bravery doesn’t save anyone, now does it?” Something in Amara snapped. Perhaps it was foolish, she knew it would only invite more torture for her. She stood and grabbed Bellatrix’s wand arm, twisting it behind her back. “Don’t say another word about my father.” In their surprise at Amara’s actions, Draco was nearly able to wrench out of his parents’ arms. They caught him again before he could help her. Bellatrix freed her arm from Amara’s grip and backhanded her with enough force to send her flying to the ground once more.

Amara did not show her pain; her will was no match for the Cruciatus curse, however. Bellatrix’s bloodlust and anger fueled the spell. Amara’s body convulsed as the spell seared through her brain, and she could no longer hold back the screams of agony. It took all of Narcissa and Lucius’s strength to keep Draco restrained, and Amara’s screams were echoed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the cellars. “Not so brave now, Grimaldi?” The spell intensified for a moment before it relented.

Amara gasped, trying to prepare herself for more pain. The cries of her friends grew louder, and it took every ounce of control Draco had to not harm his parents and rush over to Amara. Bellatrix tucked her wand away and grabbed her dagger, harshly flipping Amara over and laying over her. “That sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it? What else did you and your friends take from my vault?!” Her voice started out as a whisper and crescendoed to a scream.

Draco felt unbelievably useless. In all the years Draco had known Amara, he had never heard her sound so broken. “I didn’t take anything. Please… we found it.” He could not stand this. Narcissa looked at her son once he slumped in her arms, sharing a look with her husband as well. Watching Amara writhe in agony was torture for them too. “I don’t believe you.” As silently as he could, Draco took the wands of the quartet and slunk off to the dungeons. His face contorted with pain as Amara’s screams echoed throughout the foyer and down the stairs to the dungeons. It only took seconds to stun Pettigrew and Draco faltered when he saw Dobby. “Dobby?” Luna and Ollivander were gone, to Draco’s relief. The cries were unbearable for all those who loved Amara. It didn’t seem possible, but they got even louder.

Draco had tears in his eyes, as did Hermione. Harry did not fail to notice them. The five worked on a plan to get them back upstairs and safely away with Amara. Draco had to sneak back upstairs first, leaving the wands with their rightful owners. Dobby Apparated them up to the top of the stairs. Amara lay on the floor. Her blood pooled out of her forearm; the words ‘blood traitor’ were etched into her skin. Bellatrix kicked her once more in anger and questioned Griphook about who could have possibly entered her vault.

Silent tears streamed from Amara’s eyes. The tears could have been from the assault she had endured, but she didn’t think so. Her heart thudded painfully when she saw Draco’s eyes, broken and helpless as he looked at her. “Liar!” The dagger that had torn through the skin on Amara’s forearm had grazed Griphook’s cheek. Bellatrix was not going to get any substantial answers from him because they had never broken into her vault. “Consider yourself lucky, goblin. The same won’t be said for this one.”

Amara did not have the energy to defend herself. Not anymore. Bellatrix was slightly disappointed. Having her victims struggle and scream was part of the fun. Just then, Amara’s friends ran from the shadows and attacked. Draco was bound by his love for his family as much as he was for his love for Amara. He pretended to fight against Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Should he concede too easily, his aunt would see and would kill Amara so much faster.

As soon as they came into sight, Bellatrix pulled Amara up to her feet. “Stop!” Hermione, Harry, and Ron faltered when they saw Amara. Draco bit down on his tongue so hard he drew blood. “Drop your wands” The dagger pressed against Amara’s throat. One slice and she would be gone. “I said drop them!” They had no choice but to obey. “Draco, pick them up, now!” Draco picked them up without hesitation, knowing well that he would return them as soon as he could.

“Well well well… look what we have here! It’s Harry Potter! He’s all bright and shiny and new… just in time for the Dark Lord!” Amara whimpered softly, and Draco had to look away. This was worse than any of his nightmares. “Call him.” Amara’s life was at the mercy of his deranged aunt, and he did not have the strength to watch. Her screams and his sheer helplessness would be etched into him forever, just like the cruel words would be on her. “Call him!”

Before Lucius could begin calling Lord Voldemort, the silence in the foyer was met with a squeaking sound. Bellatrix looked up to see Dobby on top of the chandelier, not realizing what he was doing until it was released. In her haste, Bellatrix shoved Amara away from her as she dove backward. Hermione caught her and in the chaos, Harry tugged the wands away from Draco who didn’t put up much of a fight.

“You stupid elf! You could’ve killed me!” Griphook had joined their little group and Hermione held Amara upright. It was taking all of Amara’s strength to stand. “Dobby never meant to kill. Dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure.” Narcissa swirled her wand around as if to cast a spell, though her movement made it only too easy for Dobby to disarm her.

“How dare you take a witch’s wand? How dare you defy your masters?!” Bellatrix’s screaming did not affect Dobby. The only one terrified was Amara. Her voice would haunt Amara’s dreams just as Amara’s suffering would haunt Draco. “Dobby has no master. Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!” They all reached for Dobby and he began to Disapparate just Bellatrix threw the dagger towards the group. Draco’s blood ran cold when he saw the dagger disappear along with them.

~~~

Dobby’s death had shaken all of them to the core. The four spent as much time together as they could, planning and recuperating. Amara spent much time mulling over the riddle Dumbledore left her. There wasn’t much else for her to do. She and Harry would remain hidden with Griphook when they broke into Gringotts. It was certain that Bellatrix was terrified of something else being taken from her vault… they just don’t know what it was.

Hermione stood at the doorway of the guest room where Amara was, her hand hesitating above the doorknob. She was not going to have her impersonate the woman that killed her father and tortured her, Hermione would do it instead. “Harry! Ron! Hermione!” Amara’s voice rang through the cottage. Her friends burst through the door without wasting another moment. “What happened?”

Amara was busy scribbling away on some spare parchment. Dumbledore’s riddle finally made sense. “I figured out what the riddle means!” Amara laid the riddle and her incomplete notes side by side. “For one destroyed, false security was the answer. He first tried with a memory.” Amara shook her head incredulously, not understanding why it took her so long to figure this out. “The riddle gives us clues to his Horcruxes.” She had to be careful not to say the name.

“A memory… his diary?” Hermione caught on quickly, relieved. “Then, he relied on his grandfather. Marvolo Gaunt’s ring.” Harry gingerly lifted the book up and Ron noted the next line. “He craved excellence, wisdom, and victory.” This gave them all pause. Amara took a moment to think not of Lord Voldemort, but of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the child with the dark life and past. Hogwarts had been his home. “Hogwarts. Excellence, wisdom, and victory… the traits of the Hogwarts houses. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor!”

The four huddled on the bed for another hour, trying to determine what each line meant. “Ron destroyed Slytherin’s locket! But victory… victory could also be a trait of the Hufflepuff house…” Amara was running her mind over what object of the Ravenclaw family could Voldemort have defiled. She was coming up with nothing. “If we know it’s an object of victory, perhaps we’re looking for a trophy… a cup of some kind.”

By the end of their brainstorming, they had concluded that four Horcruxes remained. One would be linked to Ravenclaw, the other to Gryffindor or Hufflepuff. One was a companion of his… though they were unsure about who this could be. Voldemort had an army of followers; any one of which could be holding a Horcrux for him.

The last two lines bothered Amara. She believed she understood what they meant. ‘When he tried to escape his downfall, he left himself there.’ Voldemort had gone to kill Harry… A Horcrux was not going to be found in Harry’s old home, he would have already found it when they went to Godric’s Hollow. But what if Harry himself was a Horcrux. Amara didn’t want to entertain the possibility, but her rationality did not allow her to dismiss it. Harry had known for a long time that he may not live through this War; Amara could not be the one to confirm her friend’s death.

~~~

Before they knew it, the quartet was back at Hogwarts. Seeing Neville and all of their friends brought everyone a renewed sense of relief. Quickly, the came up with a plan to find the remaining Horcruxes. Harry explained that the Horcrux they needed to find had something to do with Ravenclaw. The suggestion of the lost diadem was echoed by Luna and Amara was about to leave when students were being summoned to the Great Hall.

They wouldn’t get away with ignoring the summon. If they tried, it would have brought about much torture. “I have a better idea.” Harry quickly changed into Hogwarts robes as Nigel made a Potterwatch broadcast announcing that the four were at Hogwarts. Amara, Hermione, and Ron were alerting the members of the Order.

The march to the Great Hall felt like a march of prisoners rather than students. Amara swallowed a whimper of pain as she watched. Where was the Hogwarts that was her home? Was it lost forever?

“Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you at this hour. It has come to my attention that earlier this evening, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade.” A murmur rose from the student body. Harry was beginning to twitch with anger. “Now. Should anyone, student or staff, attempt to aid Mr. Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Furthermore…

“Any person found to have knowledge of these events and fails to come forward will be treated as equally guilty.” Snape left the head of the Hall and made his way down the center aisle, his eyes searching. “Now then, if anyone here has any knowledge of Mr. Potter’s movements this evening… I invite them to step forward��. Now.” His feet stopped. His eyes glanced directly at the old members of Dumbledore’s Army.

Harry could not stand it any longer. He stepped out from the group of Ravenclaw students as the student body gasped in shock. Snape’s eyes narrowed like those of a snake. “It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you have a bit of a security problem Headmaster.” The grand golden doors of the Great Hall opened, revealing Amara, Ron, Hermione, and numerous Order members. “I’m afraid it’s quite extensive.”

Harry blinked for one moment, imagining Dumbledore at the Head of the Great Hall, where he had seen him daily for many years. “How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night! Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who TRUSTED YOU, and killed him! Tell them.” Snape brandished his wand, aiming to attack Harry; before he could, Professor McGonagall stood in front of him.

Amara, Ron, Hermione, and the others took a step forward. A few of the members of Dumbledore’s Army stepped away from the crowd of students. Professor McGonagall threw every spell she could at Snape. In his cowardice, Snape Apparated away. A cheer rang out through the Great Hall, and light returned to the flaming lanterns. Before the joy could last very long, however, a cold, shrill voice impregnated everyone’s mind.

“Harry Potter…” Harry’s eyes glazed over as he stumbled backward onto the stone steps. Two students began screaming, and before anyone could help them, the voice continued. “I know that many of you would want to fight. Some of you may even think that to fight is wise… but this is a folly. Give me Harry Potter. Do this, and none shall be harmed.” Harry’s face was blank. The words were a lie. They all knew it.

“Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.” The voice of evil rang clearly, compelling obedience from those it tormented. “Give me Harry Potter and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.”

~~~

Before the hour was up, Order members worked to protect the castle. Ron and Hermione went down to the Chamber of Secrets to retrieve another Basilisk fang while Amara and Harry split up in search of the Ravenclaw Horcrux.

Harry was starting in the Ravenclaw common room. If he brought this idea up to Amara first, she would have pointed out what a fruitless endeavor it would be. Instead, Amara found herself in the restricted section of the library. Perhaps there was some clue here.

Pacing through the bookshelves, Amara looked over the titles as swiftly as she could. One the side of one shelf, she found the crest of the Ravenclaw house. She stopped in front of it. Amara had been here numerous times and had never seen it before.

Suddenly, Dumbledore’s words rang through Amara’s mind. “Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.” Biting her lip anxiously, Amara brushed her fingers against the wings of the eagle on the crest. “I wish to see what you hold.” The silence in the library was deafening. She waited with bated breath until the crest began to turn, slowly embedding itself into the wood. Above her head, a compartment opened.

Within it was a diary… the last diary of Rowena Ravenclaw. Amara took the book, gingerly opening it while trying to find anything she could on the diadem. Her fingers stopped on the last page. A drawing of the diadem greeted her; below it were the words “to be bestowed upon my daughter, Helena, after my death.” Her eyes widened. The Grey Lady. Taking the diary with her, Amara ran to Ravenclaw tower as fast as she could.

The hour was up; Death Eaters had begun attacking the protective dome around the school. It was only a matter of time before they would infiltrate the castle. Just as Amara rounded the corner, she ran straight into Harry. “Harry! You need to speak to the Grey Lady! She’ll know the location of the Diadem.” Harry caught her by the shoulders, stabilizing them both. “I already did. It’s in the Room of Requirement.” Her eyes widened with confusion and recognition both.

The battle raged on above them. Hermione and Ron, miles below the ground, had destroyed the cup. For a moment, they just looked at each other. The water trickled around them. Their arms came around each other in a loving embrace; their lips met for the first time. Both knew they might die tonight. It didn’t matter. Hermione and Ron had denied their love long enough. Ron took her hand, vowing to not let it go.

Amara and Harry rushed up many flights of stairs. Ginny began running towards him. “Ginny! I-” She cut Harry off with a sweet kiss. “I know.” Amara’s steps had faltered for a second but she continued, letting Harry have a moment with Ginny amidst the horrors around them. She swallowed softly, blinking away tears. It was quite possible she would not get to tell Draco she loved him ever again.

Within minutes, Harry and Amara began searching the Room of Requirement. They split up to cover more ground, and Harry was the first to realize they weren’t alone. Draco, Goyle, and Zabini were ten paces away from him, all three of them pointing their wands at him. “You have something of mine. I’d like it back.” Draco had willingly let Harry snatch the wands from his hands that night, a fact they both knew. “What’s wrong with the one you have?” This conversation was more for the sake of Goyle and Zabini. “It’s my mother’s. It’s powerful… but it doesn’t quite understand me.”

Amara found herself deep into the room when she spotted it. Pixies were hiding within the piles of forgotten items and a few flew out when she tried to grab it. She made it back to Harry just as he asked Draco another question. “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix. You knew it was me.” Amara stepped into Draco’s sight just then, and Goyle urged him to stun Harry. Draco did nothing but slightly lower his wand. Harry was reminded of the night in the Astronomy Tower just a year ago. Draco had lowered his wand in the memory of Amara once again.

Draco looked to Amara. The air was thinning around both of them. Suddenly the few steps between them were like a chasm of miles they had to cross to get to each other. Harry just observed the silent moment, noting Draco’s eyes and reactions. He really did love her. He had no choice. He was bound by his family. Without warning, Goyle shot “Stupefy!” at Hermione while Ron disarmed Zabini. Someone -Amara couldn’t see who- cast Avada Kadavra. In her haste to deflect it, the diadem slipped from her fingers; it flew to the top of a heap of junk as the spell ricocheted off of it.

Ron ran after Goyle and Zabini. Draco and Amara were both frozen for just one more moment before Harry called for her help. She was the first to tear her eyes away. Draco watched her climb the precarious pile before he, too, ran off. Harry grabbed the diadem and tossed it down to Amara who let it fall into Hermione’s waiting hands. Just then, Ron’s screams and a strange light began to fill the grand room. “GOYLE SET THE BLOODY PLACE ON FIRE.” He grabbed Hermione’s hand and pulled her along with him, running for the door.

This was no ordinary fire; this was Fiendfyre, a dangerous form of dark magic. Harry took Amara’s hand and pulled her along, but the fire had a mind of its own. It found them wherever they ran. Before it could corner them, Harry was able to cast a wall from Aguamenti to protect them. Ron stumbled to the ground and fell against four broomsticks. Before they could make their escape, Harry glanced back to see Draco and Zabini clutching onto a chest for dear life as the fire roared below them. “Harry!”

Amara’s eyes followed Harry’s and she immediately turned around. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS SHE DOING?” Ron screamed after Amara, but she heard nothing. “We can’t leave them!” Harry tried to reason with Ron, quickly following after Amara. “He’s joking, right?” Amara reached them first and tried to grab Draco’s hand without losing her momentum. His fingers grazed her palm before they came down to clutch the drawer once more. “If we die for them, Amara, I’m gonna kill you!” Harry’s hand grabbed Draco’s and Ron grabbed Zabini. Hermione and Amara led them out as the room began to crumble around them. The six hit the ground hard and Amara stabbed the Diadem, kicking it into the Room of Requirement and letting the fire engulf it.

Amara fell backward as the dark soul within it escaped, encroaching on hers. Draco made it to her before her head hit the ground. The pain in her eyes reminded Draco of the night just a month ago, when he listened to the girl he loved scream as she was tortured. He couldn’t do anything to help her then, but she was with him now. “Amara…” A soft sob escaped Amara’s lips as a tear rolled down Draco’s cheek. They were two sides of the same Galleon; they always had been. Draco kissed her deeply, almost furiously, as if he were trying to make sure she was real and alive. Amara clung to his blazer, her ashen fingers clutching the fabric and holding him close. He pulled away abruptly as his arm began to sting.

Walking away from her was the hardest thing Draco had ever done. He let his fingers brush against her cheek just once before he ran off. Hermione and Harry knew of their love for a long time now, and Ron had chosen to ignore it. He couldn’t any longer. When Amara straightened up, she saw Harry’s eyes glazed over as he fell into another vision.

~~~

The castle was silent and desolate. They had lost so many loved ones. Harry was nowhere to be found. Amara, Ron, and Hermione sat on the crumbling stone stairs. Harry was descending them, his eyes blank. “Harry!” Ron was the first to see him. His voice mellowed when he saw Harry’s expression. “We thought you’d gone to the forest.”

“I’m going there now.” His voice was determined yet lifeless at the same time. Amara and Hermione knew he had figured it out. “Are you mad?” Ron stood in disbelief, staring at the girls who said nothing. “No. You can’t give yourself up to him.” Silent tears began streaming down Amara’s cheeks and she reached for Hermione’s hand. She, too, nodded. Her lashes were decorated with teardrops that threatened to spill over any moment. “There’s a reason I can hear them. The Horcruxes.”

Amara’s breath caught in her chest and suffocated her as if it was being squeezed by a boa constrictor. “I think I’ve known for a while… and I think Hermione and Amara have too.” Hermione’s tears were no longer silent. “I’ll go with you.” Amara ran forward and threw her arms around Harry. He hugged her tight… his best friend… his sister. “No… kill the snake. Kill the snake and then it’s just him.” Hermione moved to hug him too; Harry and Ron looked at each other with broken eyes. Harry had to be the one to pull away. He couldn’t glance back as he walked towards his death. He couldn’t.

Harry walked the empty grounds, looking at the corridor where Fred and George showed him the Marauder's Map. Behind him was the fountain where he launched himself into the sky on his Firebolt for the first time. The Forbidden Forest was where he served his first detention. The Snitch weighed heavily in his pocket. He took it out and read the words once more: I open at the close.

“I’m ready to die.” His breath shook as he pressed the cool gold to his lips. From within it rose a black diamond stone. The Resurrection Stone. Harry took it in his hand and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw his mother standing before him. Next to her was his father. Remus and Sirius stood to his right, and Ambrosi stood to his left. Lily held her hand out to Harry, but he could not touch it. “You’ve been so brave, sweetheart.”

“Why are you here?” He swallowed softly, turning to look at them all. A soft, loving smile was on his mother’s lips. “We never left.” Surrounded by his loved ones, Harry’s fears began to resurface. “D-does it hurt? Dying.” Sirius absorbed the face of his godson and tried to reassure him as gently as possible. “Quicker than falling asleep.” His eyes fell on Ambrosi standing next to his father. “Ambrosi…. It was hard to remember them… your words. But I had to. I did.” Ambrosi nodded warmly, his eyes gleaming with the wisdom Harry found sanctuary in. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted any of you to die for me. And Remus, your son-” Tears brewed in Harry’s eyes now. They’d been held back for who knew how long.

“Others will tell him what his mother and father died for. One day, he’ll understand.” Swallowing his emotions away, he looked upon their faces -their mirages- one last time. “You’ll stay with me?” James was the one to respond, “Until the end.”

“And he won’t see you?” Ambrosi denied this, and Sirius pointed to his heart. “We’re here, you see.” A few minutes ago, Harry had said he was ready to die. Now, he was. “Stay close to me.”

“Always.”

~~~

As the early hours of the morning came upon them, Voldemort brought his army back to Hogwarts. At the sight of them, people came out from the Great Hall. Neville led the way, the Sorting Hat clutched in his hand.

“Who is that? Who’s that Hagrid’s carrying?” Tears spilled from Hagrid’s eyes. Nagini slithered at Voldemort’s side maliciously. “Neville, who is it?” Hermione and Ron stood silently, knowing what had happened but not ready to believe it yet. “Harry Potter is dead!” Amara’s eyes closed in pain as Ginny’s pained screams of anguish echoed around the broken stone. Draco held Amara’s hand. His face, too, was crumpled in hopelessness.

“Silence! Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead. From this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldemort was victorious. It was time for his regime to begin. “Harry Potter is dead!” Behind him, the Death Eaters cackled. All but Narcissa and Lucius, whose eyes were on Draco and Amara across the courtyard. “And now is the time to declare yourself.”

Voldemort’s glee was met with silence. “Come forward and join us… or die.” No one moved. “Draco!” Lucius urged Draco to come, and he didn’t move. His grip on Amara’s hand tightened, and he looked into her defeated hazel eyes. “Draco… Come.” His mother’s voice was one he couldn’t deny. Amara gave him the briefest of nods, but she understood. His hand slipped away from hers once more. Something in Amara hardened painfully. She had loved Draco for years and would love him forever. Yet, he would always be the one that got away.

Draco’s feet felt like lead as he soldiered across the courtyard. Voldemort appraised him, wrapping his arms around him awkwardly. “Well done, Draco. Well done.” Draco went to join his mother, who pulled close to her. Her face was as emotionless as could be, but her eyes spoke volumes. If she could, she would protect Amara too. But she knew the chances of that were very slim.

Neville limped forward too. Ginny and Arthur Weasley looked at him in shock. “Well, I must say I’d hoped for better.” Voldemort’s followers chuckled again. From behind them, Hermione’s face was etched with pain and the tear stains seemed to never dry. “And who might you be, young man?”

Despite everything, Neville’s voice was strong as he said his name, once again earning laughter, some of it especially loud at his last name. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we can find a place for you in our ranks.” “I’d like to say something.” Neville all but cut Voldemort off. This manner of foolish bravery amused him. “Well, Neville, I’m sure we’d all be fascinated to hear what you have to say.”

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone.” If Amara didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn Harry’s arm had moved. “Stand down, Neville.” “People die every day! Friends… family… Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us! In here!” Neville pointed to his heart and Voldemort’s grin grew wider and wider as he listened. “And so is Fred, and Ambrosi… Remus… Tonks… All of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will!”

Voldemort’s smile turned into laughter. Surely there was nothing else left. “Because you’re wrong!” Amara made her way up to Neville, standing next to him in solidarity. “Tom Marvolo Riddle…” Amara’s voice was quiet, but everyone could hear it. “How many of your followers know of your true identity? How many know that your blood is dirty, by your own definition? Do they know that you are the son of a witch and a muggle… one proclaiming himself a Lord?” Voldemort’s jubilation vanished. No one had the audacity to speak to him in this way. Ever. “Harry’s heart did beat for us! For all of us!” Neville brandished the Sword from the Sorting Hat. “No matter how many followers you gather, they will never respect you the way we respect Harry.” Before Voldemort could attack them, Harry fell out of Hagrid’s arms, attacking Nagini.

A renewed sense of hope spread across the crowd, a renewed will to fight. They would win. Harry ran, avoiding Voldemort’s attacks. Neville and Amara’s words hit them deeply. Death Eaters began Apparating away. From the corner of her eye, Amara saw Narcissa and Lucius running from the castle. It was then she gave up hope of seeing him again.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Amara regrouped in front of the gates. “I’ll lure him into the castle. We have to kill the snake.” Neville ran forward, the Sword of Gryffindor in the air. Before he could attack, Voldemort cast him back and Apparated away with Nagini. Spells were flying everywhere, and at times it was difficult to differentiate who to protect and who to attack.

Minutes later, when Neville’s eyes opened, he was disoriented as well. Green, red, and white bursts of magic were all around him. His eyes fell on the Sword a few feet behind it. He took it up quickly, rushing to find the snake. Nagini was being distracted by Hermione as Ron attempted to stab her with a Basilisk fang. Before he could, she turned to him, hissing and snapping at him.

Voldemort and Harry collapsed in the courtyard. This was it. Their wands met, just like they had three years ago. Hermione and Ron were running from Nagini. Amara attempted to cast spells to deter her but it was no use. She could not watch her friends die. Before Nagini got any closer, however, Neville sliced her in two. She exploded into a dark cloud.

There was just him. Harry felt Voldemort falter as a piece of his soul disintegrated. He cast against him with fervor, and Voldemort could not hold it back for long. He, too, disintegrated, crumbling into dust and ash like any other in the yard. It was over.

~~~

Harry walked through the Great Hall with a serene smile on his face. They had lost many, but they would not lose any more to darkness. Aberforth chatted with Dean and Seamus. Professor Slughorn believed it was his time to retire and was telling this to Professor Sprout. Harry walked to Hagrid, who gave him a loving hug with a chuckle of peace.

Amara was helping Madame Pomfrey administer healing potions when she saw Harry. Setting the potion down, Amara came to join him; Hermione and Ron did as well. The four walked out onto the bridge. The destruction wasn’t wearing down on them. The sun and the promise of a new beginning were both coming to fruition.

Harry stared down into the chasm below, the Elder Wand in his hand. “Why didn’t it work for him? The Elder Wand.” Amara sat on the ledge of the bridge, her feet dangling down over the edge. “It answered to someone else. When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. But the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.” Harry’s eyes looked down at Amara, pausing before he continued explaining.

“It was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore that night in the Astronomy Tower. From that moment on, the wand answered to him. Until… the other night, when Malfoy let me disarm him at Malfoy Manor.” Amara laid back onto the bridge, closing her eyes and letting the sun sink into her skin. “So that means…”

“It’s Harry’s.” Harry came to lay next to Amara. “What do we do with it?” Ron seemed giddy with excitement. “We?” Hermione was flabbergasted at the insinuation. “Just saying… that’s the most powerful wand in the world. With that… we’d be invincible.” Harry stared at the wand for a moment, watching the sleek wood shine in the moonlight. Then, he snapped it in two, sat up, and handed half of it to Amara.

Amara twirled it over in her fingers for a moment. The wand once belonged to Draco. She had given up hope of being with him, but she had this small piece of him. They shared a look, and then, at the same time, Harry and Amara threw the pieces of the wand away below the bridge. Ron and Hermione stared at the pieces flying through the air in surprise. They came to sit next to Harry and Amara. Amara’s arm came around Hermione’s shoulders; Harry grinned at Ron.

It was a real smile. There they sat, hand and hand, just as they had years ago. None of the four friends were afraid. The bright depths spread out below them like the future ahead.

Our heroes have triumphed and can lead peaceful, calmer lives from now on.

Thank you to everyone who is reading my story. It truly means so, so much to me to share this with you. The Fall semester of my university has begun, but I am already working on the third and final part of this mini series!

Don’t hesitate to reach out to me, please! I’d love your feedback/comments/reactions/constructive criticisms :)

Lots of love, JustAThoughtfulAngel <3

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 14

Warnings: profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud

It’s shy of three in the morning when he wakes with the baby; jarred from sleep by the initially soft yet insistent whimpers and cries from the bassinette at the end of the bed. Even with the meds he’d taken before bed, Tyler’s still able to awaken at the drop of a dime, his brain and body on high alert. Years of having to constantly be on guard and ready for any possible threat engrained in every inch of him. Even the smallest of movements or noise can have him fully alert in seconds; the wind gently rattling the windows, the dog knocking something over downstairs, one of the kids mumbling or tossing and turning in their sleep. It used to cause instant panic when he bolted awake; brain trying to ascertain if there was a legitimate threat, and if there was, how to deal with it. Now he’s able to stay calm. No cold sweat, no racing heart, no struggle to breathe.

“Tyler, “Esme mumbles beside him when the crying begins to increase in intensity, then digs in elbow into chest.

“I’m awake,” he says, and rolls over onto his back, pressing the heels of the palms into his eyes before sitting up swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. It’s their ‘thing’ if the baby stays in their room: anything after two am, he willingly tends to. Five kids in six years? He figures it’s the least he can do.

The bedroom door creaks open and Mac pads into the room. Since moving his nightly routine changed, preferring to sleep in the middle of the upstairs hallways in case he senses any of his people –especially the little ones- needed him. And he immediately sits down at the side of the bassinette, a head cocked to the side as he watches Tyler intently, as if questioning what is taking him so long to react.

“You have to just bring her to me,” Esme says, and give a loud, long yawn. “I’ve been slacking. I didn’t make any bottles up after we ran out this morning.”

“You need to get your shit together then,” he teases, groaning as he stands. The pain isn’t too bad tonight, just a dull ache in the deepest parts of his shoulder and a stiff knee.

“You need to bite me,” she retorts, and tosses a pillow in his direction.

“See that,” he speaks to the dog, ruffling the fur at the back of his neck. “See what I put up? Her throwing shit at me?”

“You’re lucky I don’t smother you with it sometimes,” she informs him, as she sits up in bed and catches the pillow when he tosses it back. Arranging it and two others behind her back for comfort. “You were talking in your sleep. Again.”

“That’s your thing. I do not talk in my sleep.”

“I’m going to record you. You were talking about Austin and Millie and something about ‘leaving yet’. That’s three night in a row. What are you dreaming about?”

“I don’t know.” he lies, as he unwraps the baby from the tight swaddling he’d put her in before bed, then lifts her to his chest; one hand on her diapered bum, the other on the back of her head, his lips pressed to her thick, silky hair. She settles almost immediately, a tiny fist finding the chain around his neck and gripping tightly.

“But it was about Austin and Millie?” she inquires.

“I guess. I don’t remember. Guess it was one of those dreams you forget about as soon as you wake up.” It’s bullshit of course. He remembers ever second of it. Every vivid detail whether big of small. The smell of the ocean, the feel of the sand beneath his feet and between his toes, the sounds of their voices and their laughter. The same backdrop as his old visions and dreams of Austin, only with an extra and even more painful component.

“I guess,” she gives another yawn, as he lays the baby in her arms and she turns her face up towards him when he leans down to press a kiss to her lips. “Where are you going?” she asks, when he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and heads for the door.

“I’m hungry? Want anything?” It’s a small and simple gesture that he’d adopted years ago when they’d first brought Mille home: bringing her a small snack and something to drink while the baby was at the breast. It’s not much, but it’s down with love and immense gratitude. After all, she’d single handily given him a new life: a chance to get things right as a husband and a father. What were small tokens appreciation in the grand scheme of things?”

“Surprise me,” she smiles. “But I swear to God, if you bring any vegemite into this bed, I will make you sleep on the couch for at least a month.”

“One vegemite sandwich coming up, he teases, chuckling as she flips him the middle finger.

He checks on the kids before heading downstairs; fixing blankets and fetching pillows from off the floor, careful not wake them when getting them settled back into comfortable positions. The twins once again in the bottom bunk together, this time with their backs pressed together, each of them clutching a beloved stuffed animal –or their ‘lovies’ as they call them- to their chests. Declan is on the floor beside his toddler bed; on his stomach, knees tucked into his body, ass in the air. The same way he’s been sleeping since he was a baby and could get himself into the position on his own. He’s fallen out sometime in the middle of the night and had decided it was way too much effort to get back into bed. Tyler leaves him where he is, simply covering him with his comforter before leaving the room.

He spends the most time in with Millie. Crouched by the side of her bed, a hand on her head as he watches her sleep. Trying to full his brain with better, happier images of her. And erase the feelings of anxiety and dread that threaten to eat him alive.

****

“Everything okay?” Esme asks when he finally returns, bringing with him a plate of peanut butter and banana sandwiches and two glasses of milk.

“Your brother’s passed out on the back deck,” he replies, as he sits one of the drinks down on the table next to her side of the bed.

When he’d gotten into the kitchen, he’d thought he was going insane because he could hear a very distinct snore coming from outside. It isn’t unusual to get wildlife that close to the house; extremely tame and bold kangaroos and koalas that would come right up to the sliding door looking for food. But he’d never heard any animal that sounded like THAT. So it came as no real surprise when he’d flipped on the outside light and found Kyle passed out in one of the reclining chairs, surrounded by several, if not dozens, of empty better bottles.

“Did you wake him up?” she asks. “Tell him to either come in or leave?”

“Fuck him. I felt him there. He’s thrashed. There’s at least half a two four he finished when he got here. He wants to get loaded and show up here like that, he can pay the price and sleep outside.”

“I hope Becky or Mildred don’t pee on him,” she muses. Becky being the one of their frequent koala guests and Mildred a young kangaroo that will eat grapes and heads of lettuce out of the palm of your hand. “Or try to hump him in his sleep.”

“Probably the best action he’s gotten in a while. So maybe it’s a good thing if they do.”

“You are slightly disturbing,” she laughs, as he slides back into bed and settles himself beside her, leaning back against the headboard and placing the plate of food between them. “Now I’m intrigued,” she says, as she reaches for a sandwich. “Are you insinuating that Nik sucks in bed?”

“Are you asking me from my personal experience? I thought you don’t like to talk me to talk about those kinds of things.”

“You can’t drop a comment about kangaroos and koala sex and not expect me to want more details. By the way...” she bites into the sandwich and then gives a long, dramatic sigh. “...you’re the best. You actually made my favorite.”

He reaches out and puts a hand on the side of her head, gently pulling her towards him and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“So?” she presses. “Was she? Bad in bed?”

“I don’t know if bad is the word I’d use to describe it.”

“Well if you kept going back for it, it couldn’t have been THAT bad.”

Tyler shrugs. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. “She was just...I don’t know...boring?”

“Vanilla?”

“So vanilla it hurts.”

“Really? That surprises me. I always thought she’d be a while child between the sheets.”

“I always thought maybe you two...you know...”

“What?” she laughs. “Oh my god. Nik? She is so not my type. And in all honesty, I’ve only ever done that twice. Long before I met you. Even before I met Mark.”

“I think it’s totally hot.”

“What? Thinking of me with another girl?”

Tyler nods. “Not that I want you to run off and cheat on me with a girl. Or bring one home. Because I don’t do shit like that and I don’t like to share. But it’s still hot. Thinking about it.”

She arches an eyebrow. “You think about it a lot?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “Sometimes, I guess. Not a lot. Just you know, once or twice when I’ve had to do things on my own.”

“You’re dirty,” she chides, and nudges him with her elbow. “No wonder I love you so much. That filthy mind of yours. The best part is that it doesn’t just stay in your mind. You’re not shy when it comes to those sorts of things.”

“Well when you’re married to a nympho, you get to try a lot of things. Especially when she’s as freaky as you are. But yeah. She was boring.”

“In what way?”

“I had to do all the work,” he reveals. “Might as well have been fucking the mattress. Should have just stuck to....” he makes an up and down hand motion, symbolizing jerking off. “...wouldn’t have all the fucking drama following me around. She also only like to receive not give. And when I say doesn’t like to give, I mean not once. Ever.”

Esme snorts. “My heart bleeds for you. You poor baby.”

“It’s all good You make up for it. And then some?”

“Is she the last person you were with before me?”

“Yup.”

“How long before?”

“Few months.”

“And you never...in four months...slept with anyone else?”

“Didn’t feel the need to. I would have eventually if the dry spell lasted any longer. Getting laid wasn’t on my list of priorities so I didn’t think about going out to find some random to fuck. And then he showed up...” he shrugs.

“Must have like Christmas for you,” she grins.

“Five days of the best Christmas ever,” he declares.

She takes another bite of her sandwich. “So how many were there?” she casually asks.

“How many what?”

“Women. In your life.”

“I dunno. I didn’t keep track.”

Her eyes widen. “That many? So many you couldn’t keep track? Are you serious right now?”

“No. I just didn’t bother keeping tracks. Who cares? It was just fucking. No big deal.”

“So just randoms, or...”

He sips his milk. “Why are we even talking about this?”

“I’m curious. We’ve been married for almost six and a half years and we’ve never talked about it.”

“Why is there a reason to.”

“I told you how many men I’d been with,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask because it didn’t matter to me. I knew you had a life before me. What you did and who you did it with didn’t matter.”

“Is it under a dozen?”

“Esme....stop...”

“Two dozen?”

He just smiles.

“More than two dozen? Is it between three and four?”

“Not that many,” he chuckles. “I didn’t want my dick falling off ‘cause I caught something. Two dozen. Maybe a bit more. And they were randoms at first and then became people I could call up when I was in town.”

“Have you ever talked to any of them while you’ve been out of town in the last six years?”

Tyler frowns. “I’m a lot of things, but I’m not cheater. I would never do that to you. I love you way too much to something like that. I’m perfectly happy being a one-woman man.”

“I wonder if they wonder where you ever disappeared to. All your little pieces of ass stashed all over the world. I bet they miss you. Because you like to give more than you like to receive.”

“That’s definitely one of my better qualities. I know you don’t complain.” He gives the remaining half of a sandwich to Mac, places the plate and glass on the nightstand, and then wraps his arm around her shoulders. Settling himself tightly against her as she moves Addie from one breast to the other.

“You don’t have to stay up,” Esme says. “You can go back to sleep.”

“I know I don’t have to stay up. But I want to.”

She smiles and rests her head against his chest as he rubs at her arm with one hand and then reaches across his body with the other; gently laying his palm against Addie’s head, thumb repeatedly stroking her hair. And he leans his head back and closes his eyes, relaxing in the warmth of his wife’s body against him and the soft, content noises that the baby makes as she feeds.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Esme asks, and his eyes flicker open. He’s pretty sure he’d fallen asleep, his arm now loose around her, the hand that had been holding Addie’s head now resting in his lap.

“About what?”

“Your dream. That one that made you talk in your sleep.”

“I told you,” he grimaces as he stretches his legs out. “I don’t remember what it was about.”

“And I don’t believe you.” she says, as she buttons up the old dress shirt of his that she’s worn to bed, then places Addie against his chest. “You and your useless nipple are needed now,” she chides.

He places a hand between the baby’s shoulders, fingers supporting her hand, then uses the other to rub her back in slow, soft circles in an attempt to burp her.

“So?” Esme presses. “What was it about?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he reminds her.

“We’ve had a lot of talks at three in the morning. So out with it. Fess up. Or I won’t let you go back to sleep at all if you don’t. I’m not fucking around, Tyler. You need to stop holding shit back. It’s not good for you. It’s not good for us.”

He sighs.

“I don’t know why you feel like you have to hold things back. We’ve been together for six and a half years. We have five kids together. You’d think by now that you’d trust me enough to tell me things.”

“This is not about trusting you,” he assures her. “I trust you. With our kids' lives. With my life. It’s about not wanting to put more on you. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

“And you always help me deal with things, right? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Help each other? We’re a team. If we can work together and successfully keep five little humans alive, I think we can successfully help one another deal with shit.”

He smirks. “You’re starting to sound too much like the therapist.”

“Who happens to be highly educated and respected,” Esme points out. “So stop. Please. Just tell me. It’s been three nights in a row. And I know it’s the same dream because you’re taking about the same two people each time. So...”

“It’s about Austin. And Millie,” he confirms the obvious.

“Okay. And....?”

“Just the three of us. Walking on the beach. And they’re ahead of me and they’re holding hands and talking and laughing and feels so...I don’t know...perfect.”

She gives a small smile and patiently waits for him to continue.

“And they start walking towards the water and I keep telling them to come and back and they’re not listening to me. No matter how close I think I’m getting to them, they just keep getting further and further away.”

He can feel it. The anxiety gnawing at his chest and stomach, the emotion that begins contracting his throat, the tears that burn his eye. And he closes them; cursing his fucked up brain and trying to concentrate on the ‘here and now’. On his wife’s hand as it comes to rest on his thigh, rubbing softly. And on that tiny baby pressed to his chest; the feel of her hair against his fingers and the smell that clings to her body and clothes.

“And I yelling at them to stop,” he continues. “To just come back. And then they just start fading away and I freak out, telling them that it’s not time yet. I’m for them to go.” The tears come easily now, and he screws his eyes tightly shut to hold them back. “Both of them. Gone. Just like that. And I can’t do anything to stop it.”

“It’s okay,” her voice is gentle and soothing, her hand moving comfortingly along his thigh and over his knee. “It’s alright now. It was just a dream. Do you know what might have brought it on?”

“Millie’s going to be six.”

“I know that.” She shifts her position on the bed; turning to face him and reaching out to clear his tears away with gentle fingers.

“Austin was six,” he says. “When he died.

“I knew it would be hard for you. I didn’t know how hard though. Why didn’t you tell me about this? How long as it been going? The dream. The way you're feeling.”

“Two or three weeks,” he admits.

“And you never said anything?”

“We just had a baby. I didn’t want to talk about that kind of shit.”

“It’s not shit. It’s your son. And one of your daughters. You didn’t have to hold that in, Tyler. You know you didn’t. What are you thinking? Right now. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

“I’m worried. I’m worried and I’m fucking scared. That she’s going to wake up that morning and she’s going to be sick. And it’s going to be something terrible that no one will be able to help her and I’m going to lose her too.”

“Jesus....Tyler...” she lays a hand on the side of his face and he turns into it, pressing a kiss against her palm. “...you’ve been keeping all that in for all this time?”

He nods.

“Why? Why do you do that to yourself? I hate that you keep doing this. Torturing yourself like this.”

“I don’t want to lose her. She’s my first. After Autism. I didn’t think I’d ever be a dad again. And then you came along and gave me her.”

“Millie’s fine though. She’s happy. She’s healthy.”

“Austin was too. Healthy. Until he wasn’t.”

“Do you realize the chances of that happening? Her waking up sick like that? You know it’s slim to none, right?”

“Logically, yeah. But my fucking brain isn’t actually thinking logically these days, is it. I mean, what if it’s my fault? What if I’ve got some messed up gene and I passed it down to her?”

“That’s not how it works, baby. You did not give Austin cancer. In the same you’re not going to give it to Millie. You know that’s irrational, right? To think that way?”

He nods.

Esme sighs, then takes the baby from him and places her middle of the bed. Climbing into his lap, she holds his face in both hands, eyes never leaving his as her fingers wipe away his tears. “Nothing is going to happen to Millie,” she insists. “She’s fine. She’s not going to get sick.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You probably have a better chance of getting hit by lightning than you do of her getting sick. I wish I knew what to do for you. To take all the pain away. Because I’d do it. In a heartbeat.”

He manages a smile. “I know you would.”

“You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of the hell your brain is putting through. I’m sorry....” she fights back her own tears. “...that I can’t help.”

“You do,” he says. “More than you realize.”

She presses a kiss to his forehead, and wrapping both arms around her waist, rests his head against her chest and holds her as tight as he possibly can.

****

He’s up minutes before sunrise, leaving Esme and the baby sleeping as he heads downstairs, Mac following close behind. It’s their morning ritual when it’s just the two of them; Tyler sipping coffee out on the back patio while he watches the sun come up, then Mac for a walk along the beach and allowing him run in and out of the surf. He relishes that before the kids wake up, when the house is still cloaked in peaceful slumber. It gives him a chance to catch his breath. Allows his nerves and his brain to relax before all the noise and commotion of the day begin.

This morning he takes two coffees out outside with him: setting them down on the table before standing alongside the reclining chair that his brother in law sleeps in, an arm and a leg dangling over the side. And he shakes his head in a mixture of dismay and disgust and directs a solid kick at Kyle’s foot.

“Get up,” he orders.

Kyle mumbles in his sleep; a mixture of refusals and profanities. Then rolls over onto his side.

Tyler digs his knee into the small of his brother in law’s back. pressing painfully hard against the middle of his spine. “I said get up.”

“Go away,” the other man mutters. “Fuck off.”

“You’re passed out drunk outside of my place and you’re telling me to fuck off? Either your drunk ass up or I’ll get do it for you. Easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

Kyle relents; groaning in agony as he sits up in the chair. Eyes screwed tightly shut, a hand resting against his forehead. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I’ve seen a guy that’s been hit by a truck. You look worse. Here,” he taps one of the coffee mugs against Kyle’s shoulder. “Drink it. Hopefully it helps sober you up. You’re trashed. You smell like you brought the whole bar back with you.”

“I feel like I drank the whole bar.” He clasps the mug in his hands, sipping gingerly at the piping hot brews. “Now that’s good.”

“Be thankful I woke up before your sister. I love her, but she can’t make decent for shit.”

Kyle laughs at that, then moans in agony and places a hand against his aching head. “What time is it?”

“Just after six.” Tyler drops into the chair beside him, placing his bare foot on the small table in front of him. “I want you sobered up before the kids get up for school. And I want all this shit...” he nods down at all the empty beer bottles. “...cleaned up. I don’t want them seeing this shop. And take a fucking shower. You reek.”

Kyle scowls. “I’m not one of your kids.”

“No, but you brought your shit around my kids. I don’t want them around this. It’s why I got clean. So they wouldn’t see what a mess I could be. And they don’t need to be seeing you like that either. The fuck is wrong with you? Bringing this crap to my house?”

“You said if I needed a place to crash...”

“I didn’t mean to show up loaded. Have some respect for my wife. For my kids. We don’t live like this. If you wanted to get trashed, you should have done it somewhere else.”

“I wasn’t thinking about all of that,” he admits. “You cleaning yourself up. I just needed to get there hell out of there and I knew I’d be welcome here. Or at least I thought I would be.”

“Cry me a fucking river. How’d you even get here anyway?”

“Drove.”

“How drunk were you?”

Kyle shrugs.

“You’re a fucking drongo.”

The other man frowns. “What’s that mean?”

“Means you’re an idiot.”

“You always this grumpy in the morning or...”

“I can get worse if you like,” Tyler offers. “I’ve had three hours sleep, I’m in fucking agony, and now I’m putting up with your bullshit. So do me a favor and drink the coffee and keep your mouth shut and just sit there and enjoy the fucking sunrise.”

Kyle holds a hand up in surrender, then sips slowly at his drink.

Tyler basks in the silence, sitting low in his chair with both feet on the table. Enjoying fresh, hot coffee and the brilliant sunrise and listening to the sound of the ocean. The waves are strong today, and local forecasters had already declared it an excellent day of surfing. It’s how he plans to spend his afternoon once Esme returns from the doctor and takes over watching the baby and Declan. She never denies him those things; the hobbies that help keep him grounded and sane. And he knows how lucky he is; not to have to worry about a wife that constantly demands his attention and can’t take care of herself. That he’d been blessed to find someone with a personality equally as strong as his; fiercely independent, tenacious, assertive to a fault.

He sits up and glances towards over his shoulder as the screen door slides open, smiling at her as she steps out of the house with Declan on her hip.

“Well...well...well...” she says, as she glares at Kyle. “...look who got right messed up last night.”

“Thanks to you,” her brother grumbles.

“Do you feel as good as you look? Because you look like shit.”

He flips her the middle finger.

“Charming. Go see daddy,” she kisses the side of Declan’s head and sets him on the ground. “You might want to cover his ears,” she says to Tyler, as Declan climbs up onto his lap and he helps the toddler hold the mug, allowing him to sip at now lukewarm coffee. What the fuck is wrong with you?” she addresses her brother. “You bring this shit here? Or all the houses to bring your drunk ass to! Where my kids live. Are you unhinged?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” he admits.

“Obviously. We don’t want this shit here, Kyle. You know the struggle that this house has gone through with booze. And you still bring it here?”

“I went to your neighbors first, but she didn’t answer the door.”

“Oh...my....God. Are you serious? You went to Salena’s? Why would you do that?”

“Who’s Salena?” Tyler asks.

“The new neighbor,” Kyle replies. “Bruh...she’s pretty cute too.”

Tyler looks back his wife. “We have a new neighbor?”

“She moved into the place next door.” Esme says. “If you left the house more often, you would have met her by now.”

“Hey now, I’m the innocent one here. Don’t freak out on me.”

She gives an apologetic smile, then turns back to her brother. “What would possess you to go there?”

“I met her yesterday. She seemed nice.”

“Nice enough to that she’d welcome your drunk ass into her house. Jesus Christ, Kyle. You’re here one day and you’re already fucking things up? We’ve lived here six months and have had no issues. Until now.”

“Well if you hadn’t have caused issues last night, I wouldn’t have had to come here in the first place,” he retorts.

“Oh that’s it. Blame your shitty taste in women on me.”

“You introduced us!”

“He’s got a point,” Tyler remarks, and then shrugs when she glares at him.

“I didn’t think you’d end up that serious about her!” Esme exclaims. “I mean, she has history with your own brother in law. You don’t think it’s the least bit weird that you’re marrying someone that’s fucked him?” she nods in Tyler’s direction. “Someone that’s married to your sister. That’s messed up, Kyle.”

He looks to Tyler for back up.

“This isn’t the hill I want to die on, mate. This is between you two. I’ve got nothing to do with this. In fact...” he sets the mug down on the ground and stands up, taking a hold of Declan and placing him on his shoulders; reaching up to place a protective hand on his son’s back as the toddler wraps both arms around the top of his head. “We’re getting the hell out of here before we get brought into this.”

Esme watches him as he goes, Declan holding on as tight as he can, Mac happily trotting alongside of them. And they stop at the edge of the water and Tyler places their son on the sand, rolling up the pajama pants up to Declan’s knees before taking his hand and leading him into the water.

“What the hell, Kyle?” she turns back to her brother. “Tyler’s been sober for six months. Half a year. And you bring this...” she gestures towards all the empties. “...here? Around a recovering alcoholic?”

“He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you babysitting him.”

“This isn’t about babysitting him. This is about how he still struggles with it and how, of all the things I want him to keep, his sobriety is at the top of the list. Do you ever think of anyone other than yourself?”

“That’s rich coming from you, kid. Seeing as you single handily tried to destroy my whole life last night.”

“That’s not what I was trying to do and you know it.”

“No. You just wanted revenge. On Nik. And you didn’t care if I got hurt in the process. Look, I get it. She tried to wreck your marriage. But you guys have nearly wrecked it yourselves a few times. You guys have always been a fucking mess. Right from day one. I mean, look at how things started between you two. Are you trying to tell me that’s normal?”

“I never said it was. I’ve never denied how screwed up it was. But we built on that. Or we’ve tried to, at least. We aren’t perfect but we work hard at things. We bust our asses and make things work when sometimes it would be easier to just walk away. So don’t come to my house and talk shit about my marriage when six months ago all you cared about was finding something warm to stick your dick in.”

“Mommy,” Tanner appears in the doorway. “We’re hungry.”

“I’m coming, baby boy. Give me a minute, okay? You guys get your bowls and your spoons ready. Get Millie to climb up on the counter and get the toaster off the top of the fridge. She knows where the bread is, and she knows how to make toast.”

“Okay,” he cheerfully agrees, and then rushes out and gives her legs a tight hug. “Love you, mommy. Uncle Kyle...” he looks at him, nose wrinkled in disgust. “...you stink.”

Esme places a hand on the back of her son’s head and gently pushes him towards the door. “Go inside. Get things started. And tell your brother it’s his turn fill Mac’s food and water dishes.”

“What if he gets mad about it and hits me?”

“Hit him back. Hard. Don’t take his crap.”

“Okay!” he chirps, and then rushes back into the house, hollering instructions at his siblings.

“Can you at least clean this up?” she asks Kyle, nodding down at the mess of bottles. “I don’t want them seeing this when they come out here with their breakfast.”

He nods in agreement.

“I don’t have time for this, K. Not first thing in the morning. I have to run into town later and if you want to tag along, we could grab something to eat somewhere and talk. I think we need to talk.”

“I think so too.”

“You’re welcome to stay here. If things are that bad with you and Nik. But don’t ever shit talk my husband or my marriage again. You’re the last person I’d take relationship advice from. The fact you’d even hook up with a woman who tried to run my life makes me sick. That’s low, Kyle. That’s really low.”

A loud smack followed by an “Owww! What the hell, Tanner?” breaks some of the tension.

“Mommy said I could if you got lippy.”

“I’ll kick your ass!” TJ rages.

“I’d like to see you try!”

“I’ll kick both your asses!” Millie hollers, and through the window that sits above the sink, Esme can see her daughter standing on the counter in her attempt to get the toaster, glaring down at her brothers.

“Jesus...” Kyle laughs. “...is this every day?”

“This is a tame morning, believe it or not. There’s usually some blood shed by now.”

“Mommy!” Tanner hollers. “Addie’s awake and she’s crying! Lots!”

“Hey!” Esme yells back, knocking on the window. “Tyler James! If you even think about punching your brother in the nuts, I will come in there and put the fear of God into you. What is wrong with you?!”

“He hit me first!”

“Because you gave me the finger when I told you that mommy said to put food and water in Mac’s dishes!” Tanner informs him.

“Mommy, can we put them both up for adoption?” Millie inquires, as she puts the toaster down on the counter and jumps down. “Please? Because this is too much bullshit to put up with!”

Kyle laughs even harder. “Need some help?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo. But if I don’t get in there now, there will be a full out brawl between the three of them. And Millie will win. She can take both of them. At the same time.”

He grins. “Tough like her mom.”

“Oh no. She is all her father. Want some breakfast? I promise I’ll feed you more than cheerios and toast.”

“I don’t know. Can you cook better than you make coffee?”

“Tyler told you about my coffee, huh? What a dick. I better get in there. Before someone gets a black eye or a split lip or worse.”

She leans down and presses a kiss to his cheeks, then tousles his hair before heading into the house to tend to the pleas of help from her children.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #best part of me #chris hemsworth character #extraction

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marril96 · 5 years

Text

The Distance Between Us

Epilogue: What the Future Holds

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Five years later...

A/N: Here we are, folks. This is the end. I would like to thank everyone who helped me get this story to where it is. From my wonderful editors to my faithful readers — I appreciate every single one of you amazing people. Thank you so much! For reading, commenting, helping me out, talking to me, believing in me, encouraging me to continue even when it was hard. I hope the ending is satisfying enough, and that we will hang out soon when I work on my other projects. Best of regards, Mariana. ♥

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

There was nothing better than a wedding to get the old gang back together.

It had been a while since you'd seen everyone all at once.

Five long years — ever since you'd graduated high school.

There were times when it felt as if it had happened yesterday. As if you'd just said goodbye to your friends before everyone went their own way, their own direction, colleges and jobs calling.

Time sure liked to fly.

You made sure to stay in contact with everyone. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; all tools you readily used. They were your friends. Some distance couldn't change that.

The seven of you had your own Facebook chat group that was filled to the brim with messages. Memes were shared. Laughs exchanged — in emoji form, but laughs nonetheless. News, good and bad, were told. Advices asked for and given.

It almost felt like old times.

Almost.

But not quite.

The truth was, despite how hard you tried to maintain your friendship, things changed.

Life happened.

Sam had gone to Stanford on full scholarship, dreaming big of contributing to the world, helping save it. With the way things were going, you were confident he would do it. If anyone could help make the world a better place, it was him.

In his free time, he liked to give speeches on healthy lifestyles, which, for some bizarre reason, consisted of consuming a lot of kale.

A kale smoothie had become a signature of his, the cup seemingly glued to his hand.

He'd become a hit on the internet for it. A meme everyone in your friend group shared and poked fun at. Light-heartedly, of course.

Dean was convinced Sam was doing it to embarrass him.

Sam, in turn, had told him a healthier diet would do him good.

Dean wasn't interested, and, a few hours later, had posted a picture of himself stuffing a big, greasy hamburger into his mouth with the caption #DownWithKale.

Sam was not amused.

Crowley had changed his name as soon as he'd turned eighteen. Crowley had officially become his name, Fergus long forgotten, thrown in the trash where he felt it belonged.

His family still called him Fergus.

Well, Rowena and his mother did. Gavin, the good boy that he was, had always referred to him as Crowley, which was why he was Crowley's favorite family member (his only family member, if he had any say in it).

He'd gone into studying business, rich businessman future planned out to the smallest details. He'd intended to work his way to the top; it would take a while, but he was confident hard work, combined with his cunning, ambitious nature, would earn him the throne.

Maybe, he'd mused, he could eventually open his own company. Be his own boss. Set his own terms.

May he have the best of luck.

Castiel had gone into teaching. A surprising choice of career, especially considering his awkward nature, but it was what he wanted to do. Helping kids. Guiding them by his own example.

He certainly had the drive for it.

Who knows? Maybe kids would like him. Maybe they would like his awkwardness.

Meg, not really the scholarly type, had gone to community college and had found herself working in a supermarket.

She hated her job, and she hated the customers even more. The chat was frequently filled with her rants about one thing or another that had occurred at work that particular day.

Funny stuff, usually.

Especially when she snapped at customers and got reprimanded for it, but kept doing it anyway because her boss knew all too well he couldn't afford to lose her as an employee.

Instead of a college, Dean had gone into trades. He'd opened his own little mechanic shop back in Lawrence. It was hard work, far from ideal, paid just enough to cover the costs of living, but he enjoyed it. He was happy.

That was all that mattered.

Rowena had worked hard on her intensive at Joffrey. It was a difficult three months; she was always practicing, always dancing, on her feet from dawn to dusk. You'd barely gotten to talk, aside from the weekends, which you'd spent in front of your phones or laptops, Skype open, smiles wide as you talked about each week's events.

You'd missed her so much.

Too much.

But, as with all things, the intensive had eventually ended and you'd gotten to have her home for a week — a whole week! — before college officially started.

The two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other that entire time.

It wasn't enough — seven measly days was far from enough — but it was something.

After three months of drought, it was the welcome, desperately awaited rain.

Parting for college was even more difficult. You'd each gone your own way, different as you were, each pursuing your own dream.

It was a struggle, but, like the intensive, you'd made it work.

You'd kept in contact. Skyped at every available moment. Traveled to one another's schools when the opportunity arose. Made sure to spend the holidays (the most important ones) together.

And, just like that, years had gone by, and soon enough school was behind you and you were together once again.

The decision to move in together was a mutual one. It was more of an understanding, really. With school behind you, jobs calling, and the relationship stronger than ever even all these years later, it just made sense to take it a step further.

Why wouldn't you live together?

You did everything else together, so you might as well, to quote Crowley every time he walked in on you making out, get a room.

So you did.

You rented an apartment in Manhattan. A small one that, despite its size, was warm and pleasant and felt just like home.

Your and Rowena's home.

Sometimes it felt like a dream.

As if, every moment now, you would wake up and realize the last five years of your life were nothing but a fantasy, a product of your sleeping mind.

Then you would kiss Rowena's cheek, take a sip of tea from her mug just to tease her (her glares and pouts were adorable), and smile, and the reality — your reality, one you'd worked hard to accomplish, your so wished for future — would settle in and all the silly thoughts would go away as if they'd never existed.

You'd made it.

The future you'd dreamed of, that you and Rowena had planned for so thoroughly, had come to be.

It wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

Rowena had found work at Broadway. She was a dancer, and an excellent one; with Joffrey on her resume, the job was hers the moment she'd stepped into the audition room.

You were having difficulty with finding employment yourself, but, luckily, her pay was enough to cover the living costs of the two of you.

You felt bad; the last thing you wanted was to look as if you were taking advantage. But she'd made it clear she didn't mind. You were together. A family, for no other word could describe what you had, what you'd built and grew together. What was hers was yours, and vice versa.

Being a housewife wasn't your ideal profession, if one could call it that, but it wasn't bad.

It was, dare you say it, fun.

You found yourself enjoying awaiting Rowena's return after a long, exhausting day on her feet — literally — with a loving hug, a peck on the lips, and a warm meal on the table — a delivery from a restaurant or a warmed up can, for cooking was a skill you were still far from perfecting.

You were happy.

And so was she.

The two of you made it work.

Lately, Rowena had been considering joining the Royal Ballet. It was a big step, one that required careful thinking and plenty of discussions.

Moving to another city was one thing.

Moving to another country, half across the world, on the other hand…

She'd made it clear she wasn't going to make the decision without you. This concerned you, too; if you wanted to stay in New York, you would stay.

Both of you.

She just wanted you to think about it, weigh in cons and pros.

And you did.

You'd been thinking about it for weeks.

Bless her heart, Rowena was patient. She didn't push you, or rush you, or try to guilt you. She left you to your own pace.

You were immensely grateful for it.

By the time the wedding came, you were pretty sure you'd made up your mind.

In a day or two — hell, maybe even today, after the ceremony — you would tell her.

It was a small wedding, closest family and friends only. Sam was never one for parties. He and Eileen had rented a small cottage with a beautiful yard they'd decorated themselves. Quite cheap, as far as American weddings went, but lovely.

This was a wedding for love, not luxury.

When Sam had announced he was engaged in the group chat a year ago, you weren't surprised. You'd always had a feeling he would go for it first. While Dean was a one night stand kind of guy, Sam was more the settle down type. The kind of guy who kicked ass at work during the day and then cuddled with his wife and kids at night. The picture of a family man.

And, god, would he be a good one!

He was sweet and caring, a wonderful friend, and, no doubt, an even more wonderful boyfriend. Husband material, if you ever knew one.

Eileen was equally sweet, equally amazing. A lovely girl who treated everyone like a friend and loved Sam with all her heart.

They were perfect for each other.

Seeing your gang together after five years, in person, in full color, was an experience that was almost supernatural. There was screaming and squealing and hugging and teasing. You'd forgotten how noisy you were all together.

Your mind flashed back to high school, to afternoons at Biggerson's, sipping at your smoothies and coffees and stealing fries off each other's plates.

Those were the days.

There wasn't much difference to either of you. You were older, but other than that, you still looked the same. You teased each other as you'd used to, joked as if you were still that bunch of high schoolers who had the whole world under their feet.

There were changes, obviously. Inevitably. Some subtle, others not so much.

Sam's hair was an inch or so shorter, or so it looked in the pictures (he was still getting ready, having not yet shown himself to the guests).

You followed his example, having never been one for big change. Shorter hair was shorter hair, even if only a bit.

Dean bore — proudly — a few scars. Work injuries, though you were willing to bet he'd earned a couple in the bar fights he liked to brag about.

"You should see the other guy," he always said.

You never had any particular desire to.

Crowley had a small beard, and wore it well; it made him look older, more mature.

Emphasis on look, for he and Rowena still bickered like brats.

Gavin, the actual child of the family, was more mature than the two of them.

Rowena wore less sparkly clothes (she now saved those for special occasions). Instead, she preferred to wear dress pants and blouses that you found strangely arousing.

Sometimes you got her to role-play in them. She made one delicious businesswoman.

Castiel dressed the same, trench coat over everything (even wore the damn thing to the wedding), looked the same, acted the same, however, his change was big.

It tied right into Meg's for she was seven months pregnant, and her stomach was appropriately swollen to showcase it.

She'd gained a bit of weight and dyed her hair blonde, but her character remained the same.

She was still that same foul-mouthed, opinionated firecracker of a girl.

And you loved her for it.

"You look great!" you told her first thing you saw her. Then you threw an arm around her, your other one wrapping around Castiel, and said, "I couldn't wait to congratulate you guys in person! I'm so happy for you!"

You were.

Happy from the bottom of your heart.

Ecstatic.

Proud.

The two of them had done well for themselves. Like your and Rowena's, their life wasn't perfect, but they made it work. They lived it to the fullest.

They were happy.

In love.

Excited for the baby, a joyous little accident.

You weren't the parenting type, (neither was Rowena), however, while raising a family wasn't your particular dream, you couldn't have been more excited for them.

This was what they wanted.

What kind of a friend would you be if you judged?

Families came in all shapes and sizes.

As did dreams. Ambitions. Aspirations.

Supporting them, wishing them well in any and every form — that was the true meaning of friendship.

Meg and Castiel would make amazing parents.

Weird and eccentric, but still amazing.

That baby would be one happy, very loved kid. Surrounded by a large family of aunts and uncles, all loving, caring, eager to spoil them.

Blood-related and not.

As far as Meg and Castiel were concerned, your group was family.

It was definitely better than some actual family members.

Like Castiel's father, good old Principal Shurley, who'd, a couple years ago, gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble for embezzlement.

The news didn't quite shock you as it should have. There was always something about him.

Lucifer never stopped getting in trouble. Only, once he was out of school, his daddy couldn't sweet talk his way out of it (not that he hadn't tried; Castiel talked quite a bit about Chuck's restless attempts, and failures, to save him) and thus the darling little angel had gotten himself quite a record.

Assault.

Harassment.

Battery.

You name it, he'd done it.

It turned out that the police didn't give a damn about what daddy Shurley had to say about his son's character.

They surely gave even less of a damn now that he was serving his sentence for embezzlement.

Lucifer was currently with him, doing a two year stint for… something.

It was hard to keep track when it came to him.

The current Lawrence Hugh's principal was Amara Shurley, Chuck's sister, because of course she was.

Nepotism for the win!

Though, from everything you'd heard, she was, so far, doing a great job. Far better than her brother ever did.

Castiel had cut all ties with his father and brother. He'd considered doing so earlier, but now that he was expecting a child, the decision came with ease.

He didn't want his child around criminals. Didn't want them to set the wrong example.

That alone told you he was going to be a great father.

The ceremony, modest as it was, was beautiful. Eileen, in her snow-white dress, looked like a princess. No — a queen, the veil a doubling as a crown. Sam was equally handsome, clad in a black suit that made him look somewhat older, more mature, a fairy tale prince come to life.

They said their vows with so much love on their faces you were one hundred percent certain they would make do on them to the letter.

Til death did them part.

There were smiles. Tears. So much joy it was overwhelming.

Meg was the lucky one who caught the bouquet, only to promptly, in a deadpan tone, say, "No," and shove it in Crowley's hands.

Crowley shoved it in Dean's, who shoved it back to him and started what was basically a struggle over the damn thing.

Not marriage material, your group.

Sam was the black sheep.

Laughter was exchanged.

Food — delicious! — eaten.

Drinks downed and refilled.

Dances had.

Aside from the newlyweds, Rowena had proven herself to be quite an attraction with her precise, professional moves. Everyone wanted to be her partner.

Not a dancer yourself, you had no problem with it.

However, after what had to be the tenth request, you considered charging people to dance with your girlfriend.

It was only fair.

The celebration extended long into the night. There was enough alcohol to keep everyone going.

The place, located in the middle of nowhere, was perfect for a party. No neighbors to complain about the noise. No busybodies sticking their nose in. Just a group of people having the fun of their lives, drunk out of their minds.

By the time you and Rowena arrived to your hotel, you were exhausted. There was more alcohol than blood in your veins. Your feet were killing you. Your throat ached from singing and shouting.

You hadn't even removed your clothes — shaking off your shoes, you plopped on the bed, curled up against each other, and drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, Rowena was looking at you with a smile on her face. Your head pounding as if someone were whacking it with a hammer, eyes stinging, it took a bit of willpower to pull on one of your own.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Your voice was raspy, broken. You cleared your throat. Sucked in a breath.

God.

Singing had been a mistake.

Her smile melted into a smirk. She shrugged, nonchalant. Denying not a single thing. "I was just thinking."

"Should I be worried?" you teased.

"I'd hope not."

Her face grew serious.

Uh oh.

Now you definitely were worried.

Morning — a hungover one at that — was the worst possible time for serious conversations.

It wasn't a surprise, though.

Rowena prided herself in her unpredictability.

"What is it?" you asked, light draining from your face. Preparing for news that, at best, would be unpleasant, and, at worst, absolutely horrible.

"Sam and Eileen seem happy."

They did.

They were happy.

You nodded.

Rowena sighed, "Do you think we're happy?"

What was she trying to say? Heart racing, lump forming in your throat, you uttered a tad too defensively, "Do you think we're not?"

"Of course not!"

She seemed genuine, so there was that.

You allowed yourself a moment of relief. "Me, neither. I'm happy."

"As am I."

Good.

That was good.

You were on the same level.

She was silent for a few moments. Thought her words through. "I was just wondering if we should… take it a step further."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

You had an inkling, but you wanted to hear it from her.

You wanted her to confirm it.

Rowena swallowed. "Get married."

It was as if all air had vanished from your lungs. Your throat was dry. Heart, once again, running a marathon. Hands shaking as if you were cold.

You weren't — you couldn't be — for as soon as the words left her mouth, a wave of heat flooded you, filled you up from head to toe.

Marriage wasn't on your list of priorities.

Wasn't on any of your lists, as a matter of fact.

You and Rowena loved each other — you didn't need a piece of paper to prove it.

But…

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't considered it once or twice.

What would it be like to call yourself her wife? To wear her ring; a promise in the form of shimmery gold?

"Or maybe just get engaged," she said after a few moments of uncomfortable, deafening silence. "Wear the rings."

You looked at her, eyes wide. Mouth trembling.

She gulped. Uncertain. Frightened. Nervous to the bone. "We don't have to. I was just… thinking out loud." She pulled on another smile — a fake on this time, hurt flickering over her face no matter how hard she tried to mask it. "Forget I said anything."

"No." You reached for her hand, twined your fingers with hers in a tight knot. "We could try."

She was stunned. "Really?"

"I don't see why not."

What was the worst that could happen?

You were already together. Already happy and crazy in love.

"We could try the engagement thing, see if it works," you said.

You had nothing to lose.

At this point, you could only gain.

Rowena beamed. A chuckle escaped her; lovely, happy. Adorable. "Okay!"

It was a perfect arrangement.

"I will get you a ring," she added. "Make it official."

"How about we both get rings?" you said. This was kind of a mutual proposal, after all. And also… "There's nice jewelry shops in the UK, right?"

It was her turn to be confused. "What?"

Your decision.

The one you'd been planning to relay to her.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

"We don't have to get engaged in USA, right?" you said. "Think about it. You, a Royal Ballerina. Me, a not-so-royal couch potato. That's a romance movie right there!"

Rowena gasped. Swallowed. Breathed in and out in attempts to contain her excitement. "You want to move to Britain?"

"That's what I'm saying, aren't I?" You grinned. Squeezed her hand. "I've been meaning to tell you. I figured now's the perfect time."

"Y/N, I…" She brought your linked hands to her mouth, kissed your knuckles. "Thank you! I just… Thank you, darling!"

You locked your lips with hers. Deepened the kiss, melted into it. Thought of millions of more you would share.

The future was yours.

All you had to do was seize it. Take it. Dig your claws in and never let go.

"Don't you forget me when you become a world-famous ballerina," you teased.

"Och, darling," she purred, "don't you know by now you're quite unforgettable?"

You chuckled. "Just making sure."

She pecked you on the mouth. "I love you."

"Me, too."

You'd loved her for five years.

You'd loved her when she was bad, and even more when she became good.

You'd loved her when she was away, and you'd loved her when she was here.

You'd loved her in your apartment.

You'd loved her in the United States.

And you would love her in the United Kingdom.

You loved her now, and you would love her in the future.

Forever.

And ever.

Til death did you part.

*****

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