#sorry for being horrible and 4 months late but this was one of the most fun fics i've ever written so i hope you enjoy !!

[astrobei]

take a little moment (find the right words)

“Wow,” Will breathes out, just on this edge of teasing. “You sound very confident about this.” “Well,” Mike shrugs, swallowing hard in a desperate attempt to soothe his very, very dry mouth, “I don’t know why someone wouldn’t be interested in you.” “Oh?” Will says, and it’s definitely teasing now, enough for Mike to feel himself turning warm, all down his neck and to the tips of his own – sadly unpatterned – socks. “Someone?” “Yeah.” Mike nods. Oh, god. This is fine. “In a very arbitrary sense of the word. Just– people. Someone.”

Mike is approximately ninety-eight percent sure that his feelings are requited. That last two percent, however, has really been throwing him for a loop.

for @wiseatom <3

[maislovebot]

GOOD MORNINGGGG

how do you think the rest of the DOA members would be like vampies? :3

- 🌀

GOOD MORNING!! Sorry that this is so late, my professor assigned some super hard assignments smh🙏 I honestly find it very interesting to think about the bsd characters in some vampire au so ty for this ask:3

I don’t normally write for Fukuchi but because this is just a small blurb I figured why not! Bram is also different from the others, as his doesn’t take place in an au and instead takes place in canon. Everyone else’s takes place in an au where their vampirism has a completely different set of rules from Bram’s!! You won’t become mindless if they bite you ty

I feel like Fukuchi has the most control out of any of them? He doesn’t really bite you often because he feels like it’s immoral. He’s already committing enough immoral crimes that completely go against everything him and his image stand for. He’s a war hero after all, why would he want to hurt more people than he already has to, especially when hurting you isn’t even going to save anyone. The only real exception would be if he was quite literally starving, and if you’re in poor health? Forget it. He’s never biting you. He would never bite you recreationally, it would only be if he was hiding from another organization and hadn’t eaten in multiple days.

If he were to bite you though, it wouldn’t be very different. He is a man with a lot of willpower and control. He’s able to control himself better than anyone else on this list, in all honesty. He’ll drink the amount he needs to be sustained, then he’s finished. No more no less.

He would enjoy eating nice meals, like perfectly cooked steak, or other things similar. He wouldn’t be very fond of roadkill, because he has the funds to eat at 5 star restaurants pretty much every day. Why eat things he sees on the side of the road?

Bram is similar in the sense that he has self control. He’s aware of the fact that if he were to bite you, you’d be subjected to becoming nothing more than a mindless, blood sucking creature. That isn’t what he wants from you. He wants to be with you for the rest of his days, even if he knows it isn’t realistic because you’re merely human. He’ll try to simply come to terms with the fact he won’t have you for very long, but it’ll only take him maybe 4 months after he’s gotten his body back for him to go on the hunt for something that can make him human, or safely turn you into a vampire. He’s aware of the page because of Fukuchi, and it’s his number one goal to get a hold of it now. He’d prefer to get it by teaming up with whoever is in possession of it, but if that doesn’t work out, he isn’t afraid to take a more villainous approach. Anything to keep you.

In terms of biting you, he never has because he knows what will happen. But oh god has he fantasized about it. It’s all he thinks about. You’d look so pretty with his fangs in your neck.

He didn’t really eat much before he got his body, only being fed whenever Fukuchi had someone he wanted turned, but that didn’t happen much until the vampirism outbreak. Now that he’s gotten his body back, he doesn’t bite people as one, he would feel unfaithful to you, even if nothing became of it and it was purely for feeding. He also wants to make a conscious effort to be good for Aya’s sake. He eats food you make for him. He doesn’t really like going out in public often, so he allows you to cook for him. You’ve made plenty of meals with blood in them, like animals, but you’ve also introduced him to other types of food, and even if they serve him no nutritional value, he finds them delicious.

Fyodor would love to bite you. If you’re just another pawn on his comically large chess board, then he’ll drink your blood with no real intent of giving you anything in return. Sure, he’ll toss you a rag, but you have to clean yourself off! He’s so horrible. If he cares about you, however, he is strangely tender. He has a sense of self control, but sometimes he gets so desperate for your blood he can’t help himself! He’ll hold you down and nibble into your shoulder. He likes biting your shoulder a strange amount. He can’t explain it, it’s just a nice, convenient spot to bite. This is why he loves it when you wear tops with thin or no straps. Makes for east access! Also let’s not forget that this man is anemic. He’d like to bite you to help get his iron levels up, so at least him constantly asking for you to let him bite you has some practical use? If you say no to him biting you, he’ll respect it. He cares about you, he wouldn’t do anything against your will. You’re the light of his life, after all. You’re perfection, therefore, what you say goes.

Whenever Fyodor does bite you, he’s quite literally on top of you, straddling you. He likes the power it gives him, even if in your opinion, he looks rather pathetic biting you while literally straddling you and trembling from how good you taste. He also likes to bite you from the back sometimes. He’ll walk up behind you, hugging you and swaying from side to side before grazing his fangs over your shoulder, awaiting your permission. He is capable of pacing himself, but if he begins ti notice you're getting dizzy more frequently, or you're getting woozy while he's biting you, he'll stop and clean up your bite, wordlessly cleaning you up and cuddling you.

He also likes to eat fine dining. Nothing can quite compare to the taste of your blood, but there are some fair substitutes. He will drink your blood whenever the opportunity presents itself, but he'll also take the two of you out to a nice restaurant and let you order whatevee you please, while he'll order something simple and bloody.

Nikolai is certainly the most strange when it comes to his behaviors. When he bites you he’ll take the blood left over and wipe it on your cheek or something weird like that😭 he also likes biting you in weird places because he finds it funny?? Like he’ll nibble on your fingertips and shit just for funzies?? Similarly to Fyodor, he would bite you whenever given permission. He doesn’t try to limit himself, if you give him permission, why stop? He’d treat you like fine dining. You’re sweet and yummy and Nikolai can’t get enough of it! If you were to tell him no, say that you don’t want him to bite you, he’d roll his eyes playfully but agree. He obviously wouldn’t want you to leave him because he bit you without asking! Then he wouldn’t be able to drink your yummy blood anymore. He also does care about what you have to say, even if he doesn’t admit it because he feels like it makes him seem less free.

As I said earlier, he likes biting weird obscure places, like your fingertips. He’ll lean down like a gentleman and kiss the top of your hand, slowly trailing down and kissing your knuckles, then your fingertips, before finally nibbling your finger tips. As he kisses you he places him hands on your stomach to press you down onto the nearest couch or bed, so you’ll be sitting up comfortably while he leans ahead of you. He also likes biting places like your collarbones, arms, etc. as much as he likes biting in weird obscure places, the neck is nice too. It’s simple, but affective.

He pretty much only drinks your blood..he’ll go a few days without eating (luckily vampires can last sufficiently longer without food that normal humans can), so once you’ve rebuilt your energy he can drink your blood again. Rinse and repeat that process over and over again, and you’ve got Nikolai’s eating habits. He’s also a messy eater..there will be blood pretty much dripping from wherever he bit you when he’s done so he can wipe it on your face or body.

We’ve already talked about Sigma a fair amount, but I’m down to cover the basics. He loves to bite you, in fact nothing can quite compare. He’ll bite you and once he’s done he has this appreciative look on his face. He loves that you’re willing to let him bite you, but he also feels bad. He tends to space out when he bites you, and he prefers biting you in places that have more fat so it hurts less. He’s already a thigh guy but he especially loves biting you there.. your neck is also a good spot to bite though. It’s a little more painful for you, though, so he tends to not bite you there often.

When he’s finished biting you he’ll just lick up the blood, and get a towel. If you’re too tired he’ll just set you down and take a bath with you, bandaging up wherever he bit you. If you’re not, he’ll treat you real good to make up for it. He may love biting you, but somehow, seeing how you’re attached to him at the hip, clinging onto him for the rest of the day is even more satisfying. He finds it cute.

He loves eating stuff you make for him and stuff from nice restaurants, and despite the fact nothing can quite compare to you, he knows he can’t realistically drink your blood every day. You’d get sick, and not to mention it would cause a lot of swelling and bruising. He’d rather space it out.

I was tempted to make this sufficiently more nsfw, but I decided to refrain from anything sexual outside of biting as I didn’t wanna deviate from the original prompt too much..

[butcharyastark]

i cannot explain how simultaneously complexly fascinating and deeply hilarious this fucking intimate coming out scene between flint and silver is in the s3 finale of black sails.

like. imagine you are james flint. you have a horrible secret tragic backstory you won't tell anyone about how you became the fearsome and capable pirate captain you are today. that tragic backstory involves being the bisexual unicorn for a rich couple's poly triad dreams in 1700s england. you confide in someone outside of this dynamic for the first time after everything happened about what happened because they asked to know. you bare your soul uncharacteristically about being bisexual, polyamorous, and griefstricken. nobody else but one person in your life has seen this of you. the person you confide this to is someone that genuinely worried about you killing them in front of your entire crew like, literally 10 days ago, for confessing to betraying you abt smth that took months of efforts and dozens of death to try to achieve. this person, who is the most kindly understanding and softspoken person on your ship of ragtag hardened pirates, looks you in the eyes by the soft lighting of the campfire under cover of nightfall after burying literal and now metaphorical secrets, and says, in order, to your FACE, that 1) firstly he is a hashtag gay ally (in the 1700s) and so sorry for your loss but 2) he's been thinking lately it's kind of weird everybody around flint dies and he doesn't want to be next bc everybody flint trusts is a dead man walking bc 3) hey flint have you ever considered maybe it's your fault this happened and that you are doomed bc of just who you are as a person? and 4) but it's okay actually bc if it came down to it i think i've grown as a person enough that if anyone dies in this partnership it will be you 😤

like. to his face. i repeat, to the face of the most feared pirate this side of the americas, who has considered killing him within the past month or two, who opened up to silver in the most baring way possible for a regular man, much less a man like flint--to his FACE silver said that "maybe the homophobia you experienced that ruined your entire life was actually your fault for existing and everybody you love is doomed to die because being around you is a curse :/" in the most GENTLY understanding tone of voice while staring deeply into his eyes and professing genuine care and friendship and respect for him.

i'd lose my mind. i'd implode. no fucking wonder flint takes a preparatory, longsuffering swig of liquor with the most exasperated expression i've ever seen on a 40+yo man's face the literal second silver's mouth is open for longer than 2 sentences. silver is SO goddamn lucky this man stopped seeing him as an enemy 6 weeks ago and instead switched to begrudgingly ominous mentor and weird older brother.

and they're both still being friendly about it like silver isn't casually portending one of their deaths because of the other because of the inherent darkness of their souls and like flint hasn't killed men on his own crew for saying less than this behind his back. this is fucking insane energy. i want to study them both. i want to microwave them at high heat. i want to put them in a jar and shake it. you two really live like this?

[brokensenseofhumor]

The controversial post that I mentioned on my birthday (aka Tuesday, this post is going up on either Thursday 11pm or Friday asscrack of dawn)

The purpose of this post is to clarify a variety of things just in case I go missing Friday afternoon, but due to certain events on my birthday it turned into an exposé + vent post. Even with such circumstances, I hope you can take away some knowledge about me and other people from this post.

WARNINGS: Private matters that have already been dealt with either a few days or even months ago that I’m needlessly bringing to light, mentions of death threats, and lost of fucked up shit in general.

Saii (@/monochrome-cropcrown) dismissed a really violent meltdown I had the day before my birthday and tried using her visit to the hospital as an excuse for not giving a fuck or even bothering to read not even 1 message from the 1 hour worth of distressed and downright concerning messages I had spammed her with an hour and a half ago. We got into a screaming match and she blocked me, but a few hours later she unblocked me, and started harassing me with messages basically victim blaming me for not being god and being unable to control my emotions, then blocked me again before I even had a chance to respond. Here is evidence:

That being said, I also have to take accountability for the horrible shit i said during my mental breakdown. I admit I made threats of physical violence against Fukui Takumi, wishing he’d slip down his stairs and bash his head into a wall, and I apologize for that. I was far too wrapped up in my emotions to realize I was saying overall horrible things aimed at someone that doesn’t even know who I am, and I apologize deeply for that. I’ll try to find better coping mechanisms to avoid this type of situation next chapter drop.

@/huntersmoon1 traumadumped on me multiple times despite me clarifying that I’m a neurodivergent and seriously mentally ill teenager just as many times, and she’s a grown woman in her late 20’s/early 30s that should be getting a therapist instead of telling some mentally unstable minor on the internet about her family’s problems. She also infodumped to me about useless things, even after I have told her I am not intrested in the slightest about anything she’s telling me about. She blocked me after I complained about another one of these needless infodumps, unblocked me after Mina’s exposure, we both mutually apologized for our mistakes, and she proceeded to block me again.

Shortly after Mina’s exposure as a groomer, @/praisethesuuun made a post saying that I shouldn’t be on the internet just because I have BPD symptoms and I’m also a minor.

My mom neglects me and verbally abuses me and my dad is a creep that always disrespects my boundaries, has tried to SA me when I was around 7-9, and this week he stole the conditioner my mom bought for me (after refusing to buy me a new one for the past 3 weeks).

The verbal abuse from my mom started when I was around 5-6 years old.

My mom also held off on buying me toothpaste for 4 weeks, and I was stuck using probably expired toothpaste for over a month.

My school feels more like a North Korean labor camp rather than a school. My homeroom teacher is a bitch, as of the time im writing this post she has threatened to smell each and every student’s ARMPITS (With the most psychotic smile on her face, too) MULTIPLE TIMES. The school’s practices are no better either. Oh what’s that? You didn’t do this easily forgettable and completely useless and unnecessary homework? Oh I’m so sorry, your exam score is an automatic 0 now. Most teachers are so strict that I almost developed a crush one the one teacher that was actually cool.

ALL HAIL KENDRICK LAMAR 🙇🙇🙇🙇

Tags: @aresarmyblog @rukia-writes @amphitriteswife @micah-drew @mizz-sea-nymph @miyahsart @cherry-froese @riseofamoonycake @incorrect-record-of-ragnarok @itz-hellenz @swallowtail-lotus @the-gentlemen-jack @sibchatactics @onecantsimply

[lostmyhufflepuffstatus]

Dear Genius {Criminal Minds}

Word Count: 1010

Summary: With things slowly going back to normal you're thinking about the past when you get a midnight visitor.

Warnings: Blood, horrible writing, OOC Characters, She/Her Pronouns used

Genre: I don't even know anymore angst????

A/N: So this was not what I was expecting to write for part 4 of Under the Door... I was going to do something happy but then my brain decided screw that you're gonna make people mad at you. I have no idea why people enjoy this series... and sorry for the long hiatus, i have issues lol.

You finished the case in San Fransisco a few months ago and everyone had made it home safely. Spencer had been back a few months and things were slowly returning to normal, or as normal as they could when your partner and best friend had been through the traumatic experience of losing the love of his life. Since he has gotten back you and Spencer have gotten closer and have been spending more and more time together passing notes. You passed them in the books you shared with eachother, on the togo coffee cups you got for one another and even writing on someones hand when paper was inaccessible. The closer you grew the more that old work place crush from oh so long ago rears it’s ugly head. Something you thought that you had squashed under your boot a long long time ago. one night after a particularly rough case that did not have a happy ending, are alone in your apartment, and you’re pulled into a memory of the first time you and Spencer met.

Taking a deep breath you pull open the glass doors leading into the bullpen. At twenty-three years old you had just barely cut into being an agent at the FBI. You had worked your ass off to get to where you were and you were not about to stop now. You had double majored in psychology and geography during college and went to the academy as soon as you had your degrees in hand. You were smart and capable, and most importantly prepared and trained for this job. 

Stepping into the bullpen was like stepping into an alien world, it was very overwhelming at first. You tried to get the attention of some of the other agents but because everyone was doing a hundred million things at once, nobody seemed to notice you. After a few minutes you locate Hotch’s office and he takes you into the conference room to be introduced to the rest of the team. Going around the table you are introduced to Elle, Gideon, JJ, Garcia, and Morgan. Hotch mentions that someone named Spencer is running late. As JJ starts to go over the case you are distracted by the door quickly opening and closing, Morgan is the first to turn towards the door with a smile. Others follow suit including you.  After taking a moment to take in the height of the man before you, your eyes meet the warmest brown eyes and you are rendered speechless. And to the team's surprise Spencer goes silent as well. There is a pause before awkward pleasantries are exchanged and both of you notice that there is only one chair left at the round table, right next to you. You held your breath as he took the seat next to you, JJ resumed her case and you forced your eyes to the front of the room, completely aware of the genius sitting next to you.

Since that moment you became inseparable as friends, and realized that you complimented eachother’s skill set on cases so Hotch frequently partnered the two of you up for assignments on cases. While you befriended all of your teammates, the connection you and Spencer shared was different. And as cliche as it sounds, as time went on you started realizing that you had started falling for your best friend.  You have never told anyone other than a single piece of paper, that you had buried in your bedside table drawer. You didn’t want to ruin the friendship that you had if he didn’t share your feelings, and especially with Maeve you convinced yourself to ignore your feelings and pray that they would go away. And for a time it seemed to work. While thinking about everything that had happened since joining the BAU there was a knock on your door. Forcing yourself off the couch you grumble as you walk to the door, pulling it open. “Hello?”

MEANWHILE

The incessant knocking on his door dragged a reluctant Spencer from sleep. He pads his way to the door before pulling it open to reveal that nobody is there. Letting out an exasperated sigh he peeks his head out to look around the hallways before noticing that there is an envelope taped to the door with his name on it. Pulling it down he immediately recognizes your handwriting. Tearing it open two pieces of paper fall out, one of which is much older than the other. Taking the older slip of paper in his hand he read it over and over again. 

Dear Genius,

If you’re reading this letter that means I have either completely lost my mind and gave this to you of my own free will, or Penny found it, read it and passed it along to you…

The words went straight to his heart and soul, puncturing the walls only you could bring down. He could have stared at that letter for hours but his curiosity about the second sheet of paper got the better of him. Tearing his eyes away from your letter he was met with handwriting he did not recognize. The ink used was a dark red that was still wet to the touch, and attached to the letter was a lock of hair, it was a color that he had grown so used to and fond of over the last several years. He took a second look at the “ink” and realized that he was not looking at a typical ball point pen or even fountain pen ink. His heart dropped into his stomach as he realized what it was, blood. Trying not to smudge the “ink” he forced himself to read the words;

Did you miss me? I sure missed you.

P.S. This is a scavenger hunt, I have left clues for you. If you want her back alive, follow the rules. You have 24 hours.

Clue #1

Rain, rain, go away

Come again another day

She wants you to come out and play

Where to hide from the rain?

[airenyah]

get to know me ask game

considering i was tagged by 4 different people (@lurkingteapot, @recentadultburnout, @telomeke, @nongnaos -- thank you guys <3) in the last two-ish weeks i think it's about time i finally get to this. sorry i'm late dfkgkldfgkldf

RULES: bold the ones that are true and tag some people to do it.

APPEARANCE

Blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing [it's just so much more comfy lbr] // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair [i had red highlights as a child and i've gone blonde twice] // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails [sort of -- i used to for quite a while bc it's the only thing stopping me from my horrible nail biting habit but unfortunately i got lazy during lockdowns and now i hardly paint them anymore] // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument [i've played the violin on and off since i was 5 years old (currently at 3 years of lessons since my last break), i also played the piano from age 7 to 19 and the recorder from age 6 to 15 (that is soprano recorder, alto recorder, tenor recorder and even bass recorder for a semester or so)] // I am artistic [i'd say so... i mean i'm not the most talented person but i HAVE worked as a professional graphic designer for a year and a half and i sometimes make gifs (if you want to see them then search for the tag meine grafiken on my blog)] // I know more than one language [lmao i mean... i'm not a monolingual english speaker so... ok but in all seriousness: my native language is german/austrian dialect and obviously i know english. part of my family is italian so i know conversational italian as well (plus it's one of my working languages at uni). i can understand conversational norwegian and i'm slowly starting to understand more and more conversational thai (i'm at a point where i can watch a lot of shows without subtitles and understand the main plot, even if i miss some details) i had french in school and remember some basics (like how to introduce myself and some specific vocabulary like colours or numbers) and i've also looked into korean so i can read it and i know some basic grammar and a few words here and there] // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim [perks of being part italian means that unlike most austrians i actually learned how to swim in the mediterranean sea hehehe] // I enjoy writing [kinda?? i enjoyed writing stories in school but i never really write in my free time although sometimes i think i'd like to. but then when i sit down to do it i just never have any ideas and so i give up] // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing [i went to an elementary school with a music focus which is why i played 3 instruments and my class was also a choir. i also took group singing lessons at the local music school in my teens. if i had the time and the money i'd get some solo singing lessons. i've considered looking into it for the coming winter semester] // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends [i love them so much 🥺🥺🥺] // I travel during work or school breaks [i love traveling internationally when i can afford it. i also travel within austria sometimes, especially since they introduced the klimaticket which is a ticket that lets you use a whole bunch of public transports from trains to trams to busses all around austria. every few months i go visit my friend who studies in southern austria] // I can do a handstand

RELATIONSHIP

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year [i don't really care much for dating and relationships tbh] // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years [we met at summer camp 12 years ago and we're celebrating our 10 year anniversary of being best friends this winter -- hi @magsimags ily] // my parents are together [i don't understand how but somehow they've made it work for lthe past 30ish years idk] // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends [i mean if it comes up or if they actively ask for it then sure] // I have made an online friend [a few actually, i've made quite a few online fandom friends and then i also have a few online language tandem friends] // I met up with someone I have met online [i've met up with a bunch of language tandem partners irl that i found online first. as for my tumblr mutuals, there are 4 in total that i've seen irl -- you know who you are <333]

AESTHETICS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise [let me be clear, it was bc i pulled an all-nighter or was suffering from insomnia. NOT bc i'd voluntarily get up at an insane hour in the morning to watch the sun rise. plus in the winter it's a lot easier to watch the sun rise without meaning to bc if you happen to have class or work early in the morning you might actually get to see it rise while you're on your way there] // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars [one time during summer camp we spent the night on a field underneath the stars, it was very lovely] // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me [i like spring!! i like summer!! i like warmth!! chirping means it's spring or summer and warm!!!!] // I enjoy the smell of the beach [i spent a significant amount of time at the mediterranean sea when i was a child and i miss the sea so fucking much. unfortunately austria is a landlocked country] // I know what snow tastes like [it snows in the winter in austria, you can bet your ass i've eaten snow as a child] // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms [only in the summer tho and when i'm safe and sound inside and it's not keeping me up in the middle of the night when i'm trying to sleep] // I enjoy cloud watching [kinda!! i mean the sky is so pretty like!!!!] // I have attended a bonfire [not big ones but we regularly had fires at summer camp] // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean [idk if i'd say i find mystery in the ocean but i sure find it fascinating] // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend [around certain people i absolutely turn into the mom friend, but not around everyone so i won't make this red] // I live by a certain quote [yeah "wenn's passt, dann passt's". it's tricky to translate, something like "if it's a good fit, it'll work out". the literal meaning is "if it fits, it fits" or "if it works out, it works out"] // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep [sometimes?????] // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

since i'm late to the party i have absolutely no idea who's gotten tagged already so if you've done this already or don't want to do it at all feel free to ignore!!

tagging: @solo-silenzio @magsimags @newyearknwwme @killiru @gaym3bo1 @elnotwoods @swabianhotpocket @cornflowershade @gillianthecat

[volta-4-faraday]

🫵 ask game 💯💜🎂 (i would type them out but i only remembered the emojis and not the questions oops)

I'm assuming these are for each of my Guardians cause you didn't say otherwise, ur doing if this ends up a long post. also I'm on desktop for once so sorry but no emojis in the response just the descriptions u didn't leave your url but I know who this is @tripleaaaguardian

hundred points symbol: share three random facts about your oc that others may not know Kiwi-16: they're monophobic (fear of being alone), their favorite sweet is actually not made anymore but would be something similar to tablet, and they always have cat treats in their pocket Volta-4: for as enamored as he is with the Hive he's actually quite scared of them as well, he was a Braytech Exoscientist before his death/resurrection, and he has night terrors Caledonia: his Ghost actually named him since she came to him already named, he had big aspirations to be someone like Shin Malphur, and he was fluent in Eliksni Oshika-56: he very barely fits within the Vanguard's mold of a Hunter, he's acrophobic (fear of heights), and he's somehow fluent in Hexinary Minos: they're an EXCELLENT cook despite how chaotic they are in the kitchen, they were born and raised in the City prior to their death/resurrection, and they have a horrible sense of balance Ydiiks: she's extremely old in terms of her original birth, her mask is more for comfort than purpose, and she actually takes great joy in coming off as spooky or making people uncomfortable

purple heart: what is your oc's ancestry/genetic background? Kiwi-16: before becoming an Exo, they were a military researcher from a poorer family that didn't become comfortable until the Golden Age. they were the eldest Volta-4: he was the only boy of a very academically-inclined family, actually getting his Braytech job partially via nepotism (though he was qualified) Caledonia: his immediate and extended family was tightly entangled with the Awoken royal family, with he himself being one of Uldren Sov's Crows. he was biologically an only child, but two of his cousins were close enough they were like siblings. I believe he was the youngest of the three Oshika-56: he was orphaned at a young age, becoming a career military man as soon as he could before shipping off to Eventide to become an Exo Minos: I don't know actually (they're a tabletop game character and the Architect won't tell me) but I have reason to believe their immediate family is still alive! Ydiiks: her original House, like most of them, is long gone. she was born just far enough before the Whirlwind to barely have remembered it

birthday cake: when is your oc's birthday? how old are they? what are their sun, moon, & rising signs (if known)? what about their tarot card, ruling planet, & ruling number (if known)? do they fit the typical traits of these sun, moon, & rising signs? Kiwi-16: as a Guardian, they're just under 4 months old. their creation date as an Exo would have been around when Guardians now celebrate Festival of the Lost, and their organic birthday was in late May Volta-4: he's about 9.5 months old as a Guardian. his Exo creation date was in late December, not far off from his organic birthday Caledonia: he's between Kiwi and Volta as a Guardian at 7ish months. his original birthday could be loosely overlaid with Earth's February Oshika-56: he is extremely new, having only been Risen as a Guardian a month or so ago. his Exo creation date was in early September, and while his exact organic birth date was never known, it used to be celebrated in June Minos: they've only been a Guardian for about 3 or 4 months I believe. their original birthday was also in June! Ydiiks: she isn't exactly sure how long she's been a Lightbearer, but she's been with the Vanguard for as long as Minos has. her original birthday is long forgotten (but it would be in April, if it was remembered and made analogous to a Terran calendar)

[dearunknown]

05/27-28/23 (late night saturday, actually early sunday)

Dear Unknown,

Just got back from the DJ set. I did horribly. I feel so embarrassed I could die. I wish I’d gone to the hospital instead of honoring a commitment. Oh, well. Ezra and I left very quickly. I made us leave very quickly. I want to cry but am too ashamed to cry over something so miserable and stupid. Plus I don’t want anyone’s comfort. I don’t want a kind word or a kind touch from Ezra. Even Caro… well, I’d let Caro do anything to me.

As soon as I got home, I tore off my wristband (yellow) and wrote on it in black sharpie MY LAST DJ SET - 12 AM-1 AM 5/27-28, 2023 WORK.SHOP and put it at a perfect spot so that every morning almost inevitably upon waking up I will be reminded of my laziness, inadequacy, stupidity, vanity, — my weaknesses— and be reminded that I should never try for anything ever, ever again. I should take all my ambitions, all my desires, and shove them away. Nothing is ever going to happen for me. Nothing. The fact that I have a poor-paying but basically respectable job only serves to highlight the absurdity of my life. I want to let myself lose. I want to let myself lose control. I’m over it. I’m over my life. The wanton optimism of my 29 is putrid. It was rotten on the vine. I am a bad, weak, stupid person. I will not make it. I will not break out of my life. Continue living as a hollow vessel, or hang myself. The distinction is completely irrelevant. If I’m alive, that’s just a biological fact. I am the ancient mariner, my albatross is this horrible life I’ve made for myself. My soul is in complete squalor. I am less than anything. I am sorry to darken anyone’s doorstep. When Caro moves to New York, I will throw myself completely to drunkenness and desolate emptiness. I will probably stop taking any ADHD meds this summer, and my antidepressants after Caro leaves. I will be so contemptible and broken. Every day of drinking I will finish with my usual melange of klonopin and trazodone. One day might heart might feel slow enough I can feel it’s loss of feeling. 

Today I talked to Nikolai on the phone. He made me promise to give Ezra my credit cards. He also told me to do the same with my alcohol, but I’m not doing that. 

I hope tomorrow I feel horrible. I hope the next day, I feel worse. I hope every day becomes more of a curse than the last. In the end, my one heroism will be that I endured for so long. 

I will accomplish nothing. I cannot be loved except for the mirages I put up of myself. I should withdraw from anyone who I am not forced to associate with. I will lavish all of my energy upon Caro before they leave. And as they drive away, I will see my future approach the horizon line. And I will collapse into my curse. I only have to be alive for 2 more months, maybe 3 or 4 at most. 

Nikolai thinks I’m borderline. He also said that people who are in happy relationships don’t think (as I do of Ezra) about how they wish their partner hated them so much they would break up with them. I hope… I hope it isn’t alcoholism that does it. Although I am completely intent on being an alcoholic now, I hope that’s not what destroys this relationship. How banal. I hope he just grows to see me as I am, as the most contemptible woman. I have done so much evil to Ezra, but the worst thing I have done is certainly make him think he needs me, or wants me, or loves me. I am a ball of maggots projecting the image of a woman.

I hope my mother knows she did this to me. My grandmother did this to me. My aunt did this to me. The world did this to me. But really, I DID THIS TO ME. 

I’m never listening to my therapist again when she encourages me to do something challenging. What a waste of everyone else’s time. I’m always going to be a waste of everyone’s time.

Thank you for listening. I hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry to be so self-centered. If you could write me back, I would attentively pour over your letters. I wish you weren’t so unknown to me. 

Love, 

Elizabeth

[defineasian]

4/27

“Take it a day at a time”

That’s what, quite literally, everyone tells me. Maybe everyone tells me that because it’s the right thing to do or maybe that’s just the cliche thing to tell someone after a break up… who knows. I just think when that advice fails you, it feels like just about everything has absolutely failed you.

I was so sad yesterday. I don’t know what happened. I had plans lined up for the entire day from when I opened my eyes to when I got home to shower. And I just couldn’t get you out of my mind. Even when I tried not to talk about you or my feelings, it’s like I couldn’t shake it. I think I just made it worse by trying to keep quiet about it.

The two worst parts of my day were when I was talking to my friend, who asked me “Do you think he even loved you?” And I just started tearing up because all I could think about were some of my favorite things you’d do for me. The way you’d hold me in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep in my stupid bed and cover my face with kisses. You’d whisper little things to me and would try to wake me up. Or when you wake up in the morning, you’d surround me with pillows to make sure I feel like I was being cuddled in and work so hard to be quiet as possible.

It was always the little things. I cried over popping my toes in the bathtub and I’ve cried over locking my doors at night and turning on the lights outside. I’ve used my tears over so many things lately... The donut shop, massage oil, my shower head, my garage shelf, even my stupid bedsheets. Most people would probably think I’m a psycho if they really knew how many things I’ve cried over recently. But they don’t know.

They don’t know. They don’t know about all the things you’ve done for me. They don’t know that you always promised me an apple fritter at donut shops because I had never had one before. They don’t know the struggle of hanging my shower head or how we caused a ruckus in my garage putting together my shelf because we didn’t have the right tools. They just don’t know. They wouldn’t know.

When I got home yesterday after dinner, I felt horrible. The weight of all those wonderful memories and how I won’t be able to make any more just hit me like a ton of bricks. The empty house with no dog didn’t make anything better either. The worst thought that came to mind? I no longer have my person.

I cried into my pillow for a couple of hours and eventually drifted to sleep. Did I mention that you’ve infiltrated my dreams too? I have these vivid dreams of us and it’s like my mind is taunting me over what i’ve lost. I can’t even truly rest. But, I tried to lean into the advice, tomorrow will be a better day.

Guess fucking what? I had my first TL shift at work today and it absolutely floored me. I had been waiting for this shift for months and it took me out for the count. I was on my feet literally ALL day and couldn’t take the beating of everyone wanting a piece of me. I am just a person and I can’t cover 3 floors by myself. I’m sorry.

I got in my car and just bawled the whole way home. I’m so exhausted. The fact that my person is gone is what really made everything so horrible. I just wished you were on the phone to tell me “ You did your best today. You still did good. You’re a good nurse”. That’s all I’d want. We don’t even need to talk about anything else.

I know that I could tell myself this too, but it means more coming from you. It always meant more coming from you. If we all actually could listen to what we tell ourselves, the world would be much different… So I cried the entire way home and came back to an empty house with nothing. Then it hit me again.

Maybe that’s what you meant by “emotionally dependent”. Maybe i am weak for not being able to handle all this without you. Maybe asking for support after work was too much. Maybe this is exactly what drove you away from me.

Double whammy, Ang. You couldn’t make him happy and now you can’t even be happy yourself (or be decent at your job). How pathetic.

[wizkiddx]

i just had the cutest idea at least in my head and would LOVE if u could do a blurb? where tom is trying to measure your ring size to propose while your asleep, but then you wake up and catch him.

this is v v cute! I hope this is what u want, sorry if it didn't translate I found it a bit tricky aha

summary: tom gets caught preparing for a very big moment

warnings: v small reference to smut

//////////////////////////////

Sleep always had been, and always will be, an important thing in your life. Naturally then, any source of interruption, was met with some….some hostility. Maybe it was your annoying flatmates as a student, who insisted on playing the worst drum and bass till 4 am every night; maybe your neighbours car alarm, which seemed to be set off by the lightest gust of wind; or maybe your loving- if slightly infuriating -boyfriend.

Tom had just got back from a trip abroad and you’d had a quiet evening in- consisting of pizza, a long forgotten film playing and lots and lots of laughs. As much as you loved his family and friends, celebrating with a fancy dinner and lots of drink - there was nothing better than a night in. It was what you’d both desperately needed too, just actual quality time with the both of you living in the moment, forgetting everything else outside the four walls of your flat.

Needless to say, you’d ended up right between the sheets and you honestly couldn’t remember falling asleep. But now, barely conscious, you did notice your fingers being moved and fiddled with. With a groan you limply pulled them away, rolling over to chase Tom’s body heat - which seemed to have disappeared. His presence hadn’t though, you could tell even with your eyes shut due to his little coo.

“Shh darling…. go back to sleep.” And with a mumbled incomprehensible response, you tried to - even if you personal heater appeared to be in hiding.

Yet then, barely 30 seconds later, the bed dipped weirdly again; Tom’s grasp lightly tugged at the arm you’d crossed over your body. Fighting against it, you snatched your arm away and groaned incoherently once again. Again you got a the most whispered and soft sounding reply from Tom. “Shhh Y/n/n…. come on, work with me here.” Clearly you were half asleep, not really paying any attention to to his words, so huffed - shifting again so you we lying half on your back, half on your side, your left hand lying on the pillow next to your head.

And yet again, barely a minute later, you were sure you heard him chuckle before the bed wobbled as he crawled up it. You could feel his shin brushing against your side as he once again went to grab your hand. And that- that was the last straw.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The sight you were greeted with was not one you expected. Tom kneeling next to you, with bed hair and all, looking like a deer caught in headlights - literally too, the flashlight from his phone illuminated the otherwise pitch black room. His eyes bugged out his head, while he frantically fumbled with his phone in an attempt to get the light off.

“Nonononono” Muttering as if you weren’t there, Tom obviously struggled to find the right button to shut it off - giving you amply opportunity to notice the other object in his lap.

A yellow tape measure?

Why the hell he was measuring you while you slept, completely unawares, was beyond you. The boy hand some explaining to do - primarily because… he interrupted your sleep.

“Tom what the fuck?”

“I’m so sorry I-I just….just go back to sleep love.” It was weird, how he seemed defeated? He looked upset, and was doing that thing where he nervously ran his fingers through his brown curls.

“Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing.” Sticking firmly, you reached over to flick the bedside light on, just as he finally got the torch off. The warm golden light illuminated to whole room, allowing you to more clearly assess the situation. The brunette was sat so he were almost leaning over you, with the tape measure but also you now noticed a little notebook and pen sat to the side. His despairing look had you immediately forgiving the interruption to your night- everything, melting away to concern. “What’s going on T?”

“You um-you weren’t supposed to-fuck! I’m sorry love I just-“ Reacting to his embarrassed ramblings, you sat up properly to cup his his cheeks with both your hands.

“Hey take a breath yeah? Then tell me why you’re being all creepy and sizing me up for a coffin or something?” He laughed breathily at that, but it was a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“I wasn’t- I… can we just forget this happened?” He already started to get off the bed, wrapping the tape up in a very hurried manner. With a scowl you shook your head, leaping up to grab the yellow ribbon out his hands before he could fight back.

At that point it was too late for Tom. You saw the way the tape was labelled, not with cms or inches. Instead it was letters of the alphabet, starting at G and ending at Z. You would’ve been confused, except the fact you’d used this weird scale before, when you and your best friend got matching promise rings the other month.

Tom had been trying to measure your ring size.

You couldn’t help but let out a little ‘oh’ as it clicked - making Tom sigh heavily, still looking at you with worried and terrified eyes. It took a minute for you to face him, smiling weakly with a little gleam growing across your eyes.

“We should- we should uh, let’s go back to bed yeh?” Stammering through, you already almost forced the the tape back into his hands. Wordlessly he nodded jerkily and placed both the notebook, the tape and his phone on the bedside - as you flicked the lamp off.

Obviously, it was awkward as hell. Right now Tom knew you knew - he was less convinced though on how you reacted. Now he was doubting whether you wanted that- if you wanted to be his wife. The silence was defeneing, the bedsheets the only noise to interrupt as you both settled back onto the pillows. Tom left a bit on no-mans land in the middle, not wanting to push it.

Really there was no reason to not move and cuddle up to him, even slightly cruel. You knew Tom was worried that he’d fucked up massively. You could hear his breathing shake, as you both stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was slightly horrible, but you couldn’t help but feel insanely blissfully happy. Tom was your future and it was good to know he was starting to get the ball rolling.

“I’m a size N” You whispered up to the ceiling “just for the record.” You both swivelled to look at each other simultaneously, your smirk completely overwhelmed by the smile of pure joy that grew on Tom’s face. Yes the room was dark and you could barely see, but that image might just be one that lives forever in your memory - as your absolute favourite.

“Just-just so we’re on the same page… um, thats your fourth finger? Left hand?”

Finally moving from the awkward position, you nestled your head into the crook of his neck, legs wrapping round his. You chose not to answer super specifically, because it seemed like he was asking more than just one question there. Just very broad and very open to interpretation answer.

“Yes and… and um yes too…just for the record”

~~ let me know what you thought <3 ~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter @lovehollandy12 @thefernandasantana

[cloudenthusiast2]

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 4

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 3 Next: Part 5

Length: ~1000 words

Trigger warnings: yelling

A.n.: Sorry I was a little late with this. But as a compensation it's really long! Here ya go, have some angst

You have been walking around in circles for almost twenty minutes in the kitchen when you finally decided you needed some fresh air.

You grabbed your spear - which was an essential to have even in times like this - and ran out of your home.

The house you lived in was built on a cliff so you could see everyone and everything well. Qingce with all of its beauty and treasures laid in front of you.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped out was the lack of agents.

The fatui has left the village.

Sudden pain stabbed into your heart. Before this all you felt was anger and confusion, but now... it's become official and somehow clearer too.

'What have I done?'

You covered your lips after these words tumbled out of your mouth. You desperately looked around, trying to find someone, trying to find a little shilouette with a ridiculous, huge hat...

But he was gone.

The only people standing around were the people of Qingce village. They tried to pretend they were just working or talking with each other but you could see them taking quick glances of you.

Finally one of them, an elderly, sick man you helped out multiple times looked directly up then started approaching your house.

You took a step back and realised you didn't want to talk to anyone at that moment. It didn't matter whether he wanted to thank you or ask what happened. You wanted and needed to be alone.

As rude as it may have been, you turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. Towards the huge mountains.

You escaped into the forest. Your steps became faster and faster - and suddenly you were running.

Loud gasping echoed in your head. Your hands were shaking, not being able to grab anything properly. A wet, itchy layer blurred your vision as you stumbled through bushes and rocks.

It was a miracle that you got up on the mountain in one piece. You didn't even know how you did it - in one moment you were still climbing and in the next you were standing on the cliff, looking down and being dazed by the height.

You came to this spot on days when you had nothing to do. You liked to write letters, sharpen your spear and most importantly, think everything through here.

For a minute, you were just standing there still, breathing in and out the chilly, fresh mountain air. The rough wind blew through your hair, lifting then letting it go. It fell down and covered your face. You slowly rose your hand and fixed it, staring into the distance.

The sun has reached the top of the sky. But it was still cold around you.

You had hoped the cool weather would be able to clear your mind but it helped nothing. Instead, it made you feel like you were breathing in nothing - like there was no oxygen in your chest at all.

You were suffocating.

Your lips opened to gasp for air but it felt like you were still drowning. Your legs started shaking and you immediately fell on your knees. This broke an invisible gate. Tears started streaming down your face.

He left...

Oh, how much you suddenly regretted your harsh, angry words. You could've just talked it out, you could've just explained it to him calmly...

But would he have really understood?

Loud screech as you clenched your teeth. You did everything to hold back the tears, but it was too late now, you had lost. You sobbed desperately, painfully, alone, in an abandoned top of mountain.

*

Scaramouche loudly slammed his hands on the table and there was no mercy in his ice-like eyes as he stared at the agents in front of him.

'How many times do I have to say this?! Don't start fights the Millelith! We already have diplomatic issues with Liuye Harbour because of that damn incompetent Tartaglia!'

'Apologies, my lord' a pyro agent bowed in front of him while the mirror maiden followed his example. 'We thought...'

'I couldn't care less about what you think' Scaramouche cut in enraged. 'Just follow your orders or I'll make sure you won't ever see the sun coming up again!'

Deep silence followed his words in the tent.

Scaramouche tossed his hat back to glare up at the agents. But they didn't dare look at him. They were always wary of the harbinger who was probably the most powerful and surely the most unpredictable among the Tsaritsa's followers. It wasn't hard to notice how angry he was that day as well.

The cicin mages in the camp were sure it was because of that Liuye girl but most of the agents refused to believe that. It seemed impossible that he would be so upset about splitting up with a mere mortal like you.

Scaramouche let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a moment to rest and think a little. He stood there silently with crossed arms and wrinkled brows.

The Millelith. A pain in the neck. How could they possibly avoid them while taking advantage of the small villages around Liuye? Villages who don't have protectors should be an easy prey...

He didn't even realise what a dangerous direction his thoughts were going. He just found himself thinking about you all of a sudden.

This was the hundredth time this day.

It's been almost a day since he turned his back on Qingce. He left the village without looking back, thinking he was free again and that he would be able to finally focus on his work.

But why were you still turning up in his thoughts over and over again? Why did he feel a constant knot in his throat? It didn't loosen, even when he yelled or coughed. He tried both multiple times.

He felt impatient. His body ached to move on, his mind tried to make big plans for the future...

But something in him still didn't want to think about anything or anyone other than you.

This was so stupid.

So unnecessary.

When did stupid humans become so important to him? He killed them off with handing out delusions not so long ago without any hesitation. It was the right thing to do. He never doubted that. Not even for a second.

You were so stupid to say otherwise! Why did you say otherwise?

For a weak moment, he tried to think from your perspective but even then, he understood nothing. All he could think of was that you were just crazy.

Humans deserve nothing. They born, they live so their superiors can make use of them.

You were no exception, he decided. It was ridiculous of him to even think you could be more than just a tool to him.

Why did he even start seeing you?

Memories started to emerge and they invaded his mind in a blink of an eye. And suddenly that weird feeling around his stomach started to strengthen again.

He remembered your smile, the playful and incredibly disrespectful way you greeted him when you two first met. He was out on a quest, alone but still recognisable. You knew he was a harbinger yet you acted like he was a regular mortal.

He hated Liuye. He got lost on his first day in the mountains and who knows what might have happened if you didn't run into him on your way back home.

After making fun of the fatui and its "clumsy" harbingers you offered to be his guide and that had to accepted even though he couldn't stand you at all. You were teasing him all the time, never taking him seriously. And most unforgivable of all, you messed around with his hat.

On the first day, he absolutely despised you.

On the second day, after you have dealt with multiple treasure hoarders without any of his help, he had to admit you were a pretty good fighter.

He was in denial on the third day. You picked violetgrass for him and put them in his pockets, claiming that they suited the boy. He threw them away in a second, getting ready to face your anger. Instead, he was shocked to see you laugh it off. You had... a not so horrible laugh.

Fourth day. Your smile was not that terrible either, he realised.

Day five was the day he saved your life. You were cllimging a mountain together when you saw a Qingxin and reached out to grab it.

He caught you by the arm in the last second. Called you stupid but couldn't hide his blush when you rewarded him with the beautiful, pale white flower.

Then the quest came to an end and he went back home.

Only a month or two have passed when the harbinger came back. He went directly to your door to tell you he will be seeing you. It was not a regular ask - he literally ordered you to go out with him.

No one could tell who was more surprised when you still said agreed to it.

You two were an odd, hard to manage couple but a powerful one.

You could've been happy.

Why does it... hurt so much?

'She's just a stupid human' Scaramouche told himself. The thousandth time that day. 'Completely... replacable.'

These were the words you were the most hurt about. But he tried not to care any more and repeated it to himself.

'Replacable.'

'My lord!'

Scaramouche flinched and looked up as if he had been dreaming all along.

He realised he had been standing there the whole time thinking about you while the agents did not leave yet.

'What is it?' He grunted loudly and all of his weird, almost sad feelings got replaced by anger again. 'What do you want?'

'Your order to stay away from the Millelith' the mirror maiden dared to speak. 'Does it apply to the Abbys as well?'

'The Abbys?' Scaramouche frowned. 'What business do we have with them?'

'It's just that we've recently stumbled upon them multiple times on our quests' she started to explain but the harbinger wasn't patient enough to listen to the whole story.

'Hurry up.'

'Yes, my lord.' The mirror maiden hesitated for a moment but when the pyro agent nodded to her she continued. 'We just think that they might about to target villages next.'

'What are you talking about?' Scaramouche growled at her. He couldn't stand still any more so he started walking around in the small tent.

'The Abbys gathered a lot of hilichurls and monsters together lately. We suspect they might attack a bigger village or town.'

Scaramouche stopped as if he got frozen in his place. The maiden continued to explain what kind of disadvantage that might be for them but he heard nothing of that.

He turned around slowly, barely being able to move his own body.

'What... places will they attack?' He asked in a hoarse voice.

'We can't be sure' the pyro agent answered. 'But Mingyun village is a possibility. And... Qingce probably as well.'

Scaramouche stared at the ground.

So many emotions. Most of them he couldn't even name since he has never felt them. The only familiar ones were anger, confusion... and fear.

Deep, overwhelming, terrible fear. It started in his stomach and slowly reached out to grab his throat with its icy fingers.

He opened his mouth but at first no understandable words left his lips.

'My lord...?'

'Get ready' he finally found his voice.

Scaramouche turned his back to them so he could hide the fact he was shaking. Something terrible froze everything inside him but the fire lighting up his eyes was burning hot when he said:

'We're going back to Qingce.'

[yellowsuitcase]

In the Prefect’s Bathroom // Draco Malfoy

Request @bii-aan-ckaa​ : Hi there! I hope you are well. I just have a request for Draco Malfoy x Y/N. You’re dating Harry Potter but you hate Draco and one day in class you’re paired with Draco and he starts tracing his fingers up your thigh and whispering naughty things in your ear like how he would fuck you so hard and rough like you want it and how he’s seen how you look at him in class and how you turn him on and y/n gets flustered and goes to the prefects bathroom and Draco comes after and she just kisses him hard and they have rough hate sex and he makes her say how he’s better than her boyfriend and how he’s going to fuck her whenever he wants to

A/N: Tbh I procrastinated this request for a long time, but once I sat down to write it, everything came easily and I’m very pleased with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy! P.S Sorry about Harry :(

Summary: Y/N and her boyfriend, Harry, hate Draco. But what happens when Y/N gets paired up with him for a potions assignment?

Warning(s): SMUT!!! Unprotected sex, fingering, hickies, dirty talk, hate fucking, possessiveness, cheating

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

{Not my gif}

“Harry, wait up!” Y/N called after her boyfriend. He was running a few paces ahead of her. The two of them were about to be late for Potions. Harry turned his head briefly and smiled brightly at Y/N. She rolled her eyes and sped up so that she was nearly beside Harry now. They sprinted down the dungeon steps and burst through the archway into Snape’s classroom just as the bell rang. Everyone’s eyes shifted to the pair, who were huffing and puffing. 

“Today’s lesson will be on Felix Felicis. You will each be paired up with a fellow student. No, you may not pick your partner. I will do that for you,” Snape said coldly. His eyes shifted to Harry and Y/N. “Mr. Potter, you’ll be working with Mr. Goyle. You, Ms. Y/L/N, will be with Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps with him, you’ll be able to actually brew an accurate potion.”

Y/N glared at the blonde-haired boy by the name of Draco. It was well known throughout Hogwarts that Harry and Draco didn’t get on, but their hateful relationship was nothing compared to his with Y/N. The two of them were prefects, Y/N being a Gryffindor and Draco being a Slytherin. This meant they saw each other at prefect meetings and at other school functions. Y/N despised him for multiple reasons. He was an absolute prick to her boyfriend, which obviously didn’t sit well with her. Not to mention Draco would tease Y/N about everything, no matter if it were her shoes or her nose. If Draco noticed anything out of sorts, he would poke and prod at it. And on top of Draco’s constant rude remarks and banter, Y/N couldn’t deny the fact that to put it bluntly, he was hot. She felt utterly horrible for thinking this about him, but Draco was, in Y/N’s mind, the most attractive boy she’d ever laid eyes on...aside from Harry, of course. 

Reluctantly, she walked over to the empty stool beside Draco and took a seat. The boy smirked at her and held eye contact for just a couple seconds too long before turning his attention to Snape, who was going over instructions. Y/N’s heart was pounding in her chest, and not from the running. The class had hardly started, and she was already distracted. She blinked rapidly, trying to snap out of her thoughts. Her eyes landed on the spread in front of her. Y/N knew Felix Felicis to be a difficult potion to brew because of its intricacy, and if she remembered correctly, it took many months to complete. However, it looked as though they were going to start from the beginning today. Y/N nervously picked at the skin around her nails as she scanned the ingredients. She recognized most of them: Occamy Eggshells, Murtlap Tentacles, Common Rue, and Thyme. But there were a couple other items she was unfamiliar with. 

“I will only help you with the first few steps, then you will have to go by your textbooks. We’ll start with the Ashwinder egg. Add it to your cauldrons,” Snape instructed. Y/N’s hand hovered over the various items. She was about to grab what looked like an egg, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. “It’s not that one,” a haughty voice said. Y/N turned to glare at Draco, who kept his hand on her while using his other to grab an orange-reddish colored egg. He tossed it into the air, caught it, and slid it into their shared cauldron. Y/N wrenched her wrist from his grip. Draco chuckled at this. “Not my fault you didn’t know what an egg looked like,” he retorted. Y/N huffed angrily. “Eggs can come in many different shapes and sizes. Forgive me for being cautious.” Draco raised an eyebrow as he turned up the heat of the fire beneath the pewter cauldron. He appeared unimpressed.

“Now for the Squill Bulb. Stir vigorously after adding it in,” Snape muttered as he slowly circled the classroom. Y/N groaned quietly. She wasn’t familiar with this ingredient, either. While she frantically scanned the table, she felt a hot breath on her neck. “You look pretty when you’re scared,” Draco whispered into her ear. A shudder ran down her spine, and she shifted in her seat while she pressed her thighs together. Her eyes flickered to Draco. He was gazing at her intently, his eyes running up and down her body. “Shut up, Malfoy. I'm not scared, I'm just unsure,” Y/N snapped, but she knew her words weren’t convincing. Draco leaned over her and snatched the brown bulb at the far end of the table. He lingered there for a moment, his body close to Y/N’s. Then he sat back, plopped the item into the cauldron, and began to stir swiftly. His eyes didn’t meet Y/N’s, but she couldn’t take hers off of his. Fortunately, she was snapped out of her trance by Snape slamming a textbook onto the table. Y/N bit her lip, preventing a curse word from flying, as she turned around to see her professor behind her. He sneered down at her and aggressively turned the book's pages until landing on the relevant section. 

“Follow instructions, Y/L/N. Just because you’re paired with Malfoy doesn’t mean you can slack off,” he scolded. Once again, all eyes turned to Y/N, whose face was burning crimson. She blocked out the shame surging in her stomach and pulled the textbook close to her so she could identify the next step in the potion. It called for Murtlap Tentacles. But first, they must be cleaned and chopped up. Y/N grasped the worm-like strands and laid them on her cutting board. 

She had just begun to chop them up when she felt a hand on her thigh. It was evident that the hand belonged to Draco. She glanced to the side, her eyes meeting his. He raised an eyebrow to ask silent permission. Y/N knew better, but she was curious and gave him a short nod. His fingers then traced lines up and down her leg, making her squirm. At that very moment, Harry decided to look over at his girlfriend. He gave her a soft, sympathetic smile to which she hurriedly returned as she tried to ignore what was happening underneath the table. But what Draco did next was not something she could put out of mind. His hand slid underneath her skirt, and she felt his finger brush over her clothed and slightly excited pussy. Y/N stifled a gasp and whipped her head towards Draco, shooting a nasty glare. He smirked at her and whispered, “Are you aroused, Y/N? Your panties are wet. Is it for me?”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. How was it that even his voice was sexy? She luckily got ahold of herself and promptly slapped his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she seethed. But Draco was unfazed. He added more ingredients to the potion-in-progress and stirred it absentmindedly. “You know, Y/N, I notice your stares. I see how you look at me. You don’t look at Harry like that, do you? Does he make you happy?” he questioned. Y/N straightened her spine, trying to appear unaffected by his inquiries. “He does make me happy, for your information,” she replied coldly. Draco’s focus remained on the potion as he asked another question, one that made Y/N falter. “But does he make you happy in bed, Y/N?” Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. How dare he ask such a thing. Y/N opened her mouth to reply but found that no words came to her aid. Harry was the best boyfriend she could ask for. But truthfully, he wasn’t the most skilled in the bedroom. He gave it his all, but it wasn’t quite enough for Y/N. However, it wasn’t a big deal; Y/N didn’t really mind having to finish the job with her hand after the deed. Sure, it wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it definitely wasn’t something to break up over, not in her mind. 

“No answer, huh? Seems my suspicions were right. He’s not satisfying you,” Draco whispered. Y/N shifted her eyes to her textbook, trying to reassert her concentration onto her schoolwork. But then Draco’s hand returned to her thigh, and he leaned in closer. “I could do better. God, I’d fuck you so hard and so much better than he ever could. I’d fuck you until you’d have to beg me to stop,” he muttered while slipping his index finger past her underwear and starting to stroke her. Y/N tried to close her thighs, but Draco’s thumb and pinky held them open as his finger found her clit and swirled around it lightly. “You turn me on, Y/N. And I know you want this. You can’t fool me.”

Y/N’s chest was heaving, she could feel her underwear growing wetter and her desire for the Slytherin increasing. It was getting to be too much; she didn’t think she could handle any more. Her hand pushed his away, and she stood up abruptly, sending her stool backward. The screeching of its feet on the floor got the attention of the class. “May I use the bathroom, Professor?” she asked. Snape leered at her but waved her off. Without hesitation, Y/N ran out of the classroom and sprinted for the Prefect’s bathroom. It was much farther than the regular toilets, but Y/N wanted extra security. She climbed many flights of stairs before arriving outside the door. Y/N spoke the password and rushed inside, not stopping to admire the chandelier or the freshly cleaned marble floors. She made a beeline for the enormous bath, kicking off her shoes and robe as she went. When she got to the bath, she sat down beside it and slid off her socks along with her skirt and underwear. Slowly, Y/N slipped her foot into the water. It was the perfect temperature. Eagerly, she yanked off her grey sweater and button-down shirt, leaving her in just her lacey bralette; it was red to match her house colors.

Y/N scooted towards the edge of the bath and carefully slid herself inside, submerging her body from her stomach down. The steam from the hot water instantly calmed her racing heart. She crossed her arms on the edge of the pool. This prevented her from sliding all the way under. Gently, she rested her head on top of them. But before allowing herself to relax, Y/N quickly scanned the bathroom. When she determined nobody was present, she closed her eyes and let her body soften. But her craved peace of mind didn’t come. The events of a few minutes prior were still swirling around in her head. Did he really touch me, or am I just imagining it? No, I can't be imagining it, not when my goddamn clit is still tingling from his finger. Y/N knew the cat was out of the bag. She thought she’d been doing an excellent job of hiding her attraction to Draco, but he said it himself; he’d seen the way she'd looked at him. He knew she liked him. Y/N felt terrible. How would Harry feel if he knew his girlfriend had a thing for the boy who made his school days hell? He certainly wouldn’t be pleased, that’s for sure.

Y/N’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a soft chuckle. She opened her eyes to see none other than Draco, kneeling right in front of her. She screamed and instinctively crossed her arms over her chest; she almost lost her grip on the edge of the bath by doing this. But at the last second, she regained her grasp and this time opted to press her chest against the side of the pool to shield herself from Draco’s view. 

“What are you doing here?” she yelled angrily, refusing to look at the boy. “I’m simply finishing what I started,” he said. Y/N’s eyebrows knit together. “Wha—” She was cut off by Draco smashing his lips against hers. At first, Y/N wanted to push him away, and she tried. She pressed her hands against his chest and started to shove him, but then he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, and her arms weakened. She melted into the kiss, all thoughts of Harry leaving her mind. Draco swirled his tongue around hers, causing her skin to prickle with arousal. Y/N sighed deeply and leaned in closer. She squealed when Draco began to suck her tongue before he abruptly pulled away. The pair gazed at each other, pure lust in their eyes. Draco suddenly grabbed her arms and hoisted her out of the bath. Once her feet touched the floor, his fingers immediately found her pussy and began rubbing. Y/N’s legs shook, and she grabbed onto Draco’s shoulders as he slid a finger inside her. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Draco muttered. Y/N whimpered and clenched her walls around his digit. “Don’t worry, you’ll be full soon enough,” he stated while sliding in another finger. Y/N was desperate at this point. She hadn’t touched herself in a few weeks, and Draco’s fingers were skilled. They were bringing her to her peak before Draco had even undressed. Not only was he skilled, but he was also experienced and thus noticed Y/N’s body language. He knew she was close, so he removed his fingers. Y/N cried out as she felt her climax fade away. “What the hell?” she growled while pressing her thighs together, trying to imitate the friction he'd provided. Draco said nothing as he slid down his pants and underwear,  smiling at her neediness. She glared at him, furious that he had denied her her orgasm, but he paid her no mind. When his clothes were shed, he roughly grabbed Y/N’s waist and steered her to the nearest wall. Without warning, he slammed her up against it and forcefully thrusted his cock inside her. The combined feeling of being full and the shock of the cold marble against her skin caused Y/N to let out a guttural moan. She dug her fingernails into Draco’s back, through his shirt as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. His hips remained still, prompting Y/N to clench around him.

“You’re so tight, fuck,” he grunted. Y/N whined when he still didn’t move and bucked her hips. “Oh, you want me to fuck you? Is that it?” he teased. Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I hate you,” she muttered. Draco winked at her and pulled out, she was frustrated initially, but then he thrusted back inside, roughly, making her scream. His hips snapped back and forth at a rapid pace. Y/N moaned loudly as her eyes fell shut. Her voice hitched every time his cock touched that spot deep inside her. “Tell me I’m better than him, Y/N. Tell me that I’m better than Harry, that I fuck you harder than him,” he growled. Y/N couldn’t form a coherent thought; there was no way she’d be able to speak a proper sentence. Draco gripped her arms tight and pounded her hard before ceasing his movements. Y/N opened her eyes; she was confused as to why he had stopped. “Say it,” he demanded. Y/N felt her body shudder and sweat slide down her neck. Draco slammed inside her again, startling her.

“You’re better! You fuck me better than Harry,” she sputtered. Draco smirked. “That’s right, princess. And don’t worry, I’ll be fucking you frequently. Whenever I want, I’ll sneak off to your common room, crawl into your bed, and fuck you until you see stars. I don’t even care if someone sees or hears. You’re mine now, understand? You’re my little fuck toy,” he husked. Y/N whimpered at his words. She’d never been more aroused than she was right then. He began to regain his fast pace, and Y/N cried out in pleasure. “Fuck, Draco!” she shouted. This seemed to egg Draco on as he thrusted into her even harder, making her tits bounce. “Draco, Draco, Draco,” Y/N moaned. The Slytherin grunted, leaned his head towards her neck, and latched his lips onto her soft skin. He took her skin in between his teeth and sucked forcefully. “That’s gonna leave a mark, Draco, stop,” she whined. Draco pulled away and snickered. “I know, that’s the point.” Y/N rolled her eyes. Bastard. 

Suddenly, Draco paused his movements and carefully pulled himself out. Before Y/N could speak, he spun her around so that her front was pressed up against the wall. He shoved his cock back inside her and resumed thrusting. “God, you’re so good. I’m gonna fuck you all the fucking time. And you’re going to let me, aren’t you, princess? You’re gonna let me pound that pussy whenever the fuck I want, right?” Y/N groaned, the sound of her voice and the slapping of skin reverberating off the bathroom walls. She was so close to her peak; she just needed a little more. “Answer me, slut,” Draco growled. Y/N squeezed her eyes shut as he roughly snapped his hips. “Yes. Shit, yes, I’ll let you fuck me whenever. Fuck, fuck! Draco, I’m gonna cum,” she squeaked. Draco gripped her hips tighter. “Then cum. Cum on my cock, you filthy little slut.”

That was all Y/N needed. She felt her orgasm pulse through her; it was as if her bloodstream was filled with electricity. Her body jerked with shocks of pleasure, and her vision turned white. Draco’s pace had never slowed throughout her high. In fact, it had sped up as he was nearing his own climax. With a few more thrusts, he came inside her with a loud moan. Y/N squeezed him tight, stimulating him through his orgasm. 

When he finished, he remained inside her as they both tried to catch their breaths. Y/N was utterly dazed. “I’ve never cummed that hard. Holy shit, Draco.”

“You said it yourself, I’m better,” he said with a smirk. 

Gently, he pulled out of her. Y/N turned around and leaned against the wall; her legs were trembling too much to stand without support. “I still don’t like you,” she stated. Draco cocked an eyebrow. “You sure bout that? You were just screaming my name about,” he raised his wrist to his face, pretending to check an invisible watch, “two minutes ago.” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to look intimidating. 

“Because of you, we missed the rest of Potions and are likely going to be late to our next class, you moron,” Y/N complained while walking over to her pile of clothes by the still-hot bath. Draco was already dressed, considering he had only taken off his lower layer of clothing. He was readjusting his tie in the mirror while Y/N scrambled for a towel to clean herself up with. Draco cleared his throat. Y/N glanced over to see him lifting up a washcloth. She grumbled to herself as she stomped over to him. The Gryffindor snatched the cloth from his hand. “Thanks,” she said shortly. Draco shook his head and laughed. “You’ll warm up to me yet, Y/L/N.”

Y/N flipped him off, not bothering to look behind her. She knew he could see her in the mirror. “Fuck off, Draco, I still hate your guts even though you’ve just rearranged mine,” she called out, making Draco laugh again. Y/N sighed softly in disappointment. Not even her humor could distract her from the thought in her mind. How were things ever going to be normal with Harry again?

Taglist: @beiahadid​ @pastelpuffbar

[ghostbustermelanieking]

For the AU-Jon wakes up from his coma before Martin accepts Peter's offer?

1. Oliver Banks comes sooner. No one knows why it happens this way, but this is the way it happens, and it mostly goes the same. Georgie shows up, Oliver leaves, and Jon starts to breathe again. It all just happens earlier.

Basira doesn’t tell Martin right away, when Georgie shows up. He’s taken this whole thing so hard, and it might be nothing, it might be nothing at all. She resolves to call him as soon as they have more details—when she has a hold on the whole situation.

2. This happens only two days after Peter has made his offer. He gave Martin a few days to “think it over,” and Martin still hasn’t come to a clear decision. (He thinks that the decision should be obvious—should be—but he isn’t that brave, and he’s never been the hero, and the decision seems impossibly stupid at times, and what if—what if Jon wakes up?)

Peter’s offer is still sitting like a stone in his mind, and he’s halfway considering visiting Jon, for some grasp at clarity—or maybe an attempt to say goodbye—when Basira texts, tells him to come to the hospital. She doesn’t offer many more details besides that, and Martin is out of the Institute and in a cab before there is even time to consider what this might mean. He halfway wants to call Basira up and press for information. The thing that sticks in his mind—the thing he thinks it must be—is that Jon is dead. Jon has finally died, and Basira’s called him there to say goodbye—and that just makes him want to press Basira even more, to demand answers, because what if he’s heading to the hospital with even a glimmer of hope and it turns out to be the exact opposite…

(Or what if—what if he’s awake? What if he’s alive?)

Martin doesn’t let himself hope. Doesn’t know how to. He keeps going over the possibilities—He’s probably dead, or worse—keeps reapproaching Peter’s plan—If Jon’s dead, I’ll have to take it, it’s the least I can do for the others, what will I have keeping me here then… He goes straight to the hospital, and up to Jon’s floor—the nurses know him, and wave him on through—down the halls to Jon’s familiar room, to Jon’s door, all the while bracing himself for bad news.

3. Basira is waiting by the door, and she looks up when Martin comes down the hall. “What’s happened?” Martin snaps, immediately. “What’s going on? Is he—” His throat closes at the prospect of finishing that sentence; he can’t do it, can’t say it…

Basira’s expression is closed off enough that Martin can’t read it, can’t tell if it’s bad news. But then she says, “He’s awake,” and the force of it is like a gut punch, nearly bending Martin in half. His hand immediately shoots for the door, and Basira puts an arm out as if to stop him. “Martin. It isn’t what you think.”

“What is it, then?” Martin snaps, and he yanks the door open, the word pushing out of his mouth entirely of his own accord—”Jon…”

Jon is awake. Jon is sitting up in bed, with a crumpled statement in his lap, and a tape recorder running on the side table, and Martin can’t breathe. Jon looks almost exactly the same as he has for months now, except that he’s awake and alive and looking at Martin. “Martin?” he says—a lot of emotions crammed into this one word—and Martin doesn’t know what to say, can’t get past the reality of Jon actually saying his name.

“Martin, you’re… here,” Jon says, quietly, the statement crumpling in his hand. “I-I didn’t know if… you’re all right?”

Martin starts to cross the room slowly, to the chair he’s more or less grown accustomed to sitting in when he’s visited. He hasn’t said anything yet—hasn’t found the words—and Jon is still talking. “I wasn’t sure if… y-your plan, Elias, Basira hasn’t… hasn’t filled me in, and I… you’re all right? You aren’t hurt, are you? Martin?”

Martin shakes his head numbly as he sits. Looks down at the bed and almost reaches for Jon’s hand—a long running habit, this isn’t his first visit, they’ve become as routine as anything—but he stops himself. He doesn’t know if Jon would want that. Maybe Jon never would have wanted that.

“You, er,” Jon begins, stops. He takes a slow breath, and his voice sounds remarkably well put-together, even after months of disuse. “It’s, uh. It’s good to see you here, Martin.”

Martin chokes a little. “Jon?” he says—he isn’t sure he has the words for anything else—and he looks up, and Jon is looking back at him—something unreadable in his eyes, something almost like affection, maybe—and one of them, or maybe both of them, move before Martin even knows what is happening. Martin jerks forward, and so does Jon, and then they’re embracing, leaning over the bed, Jon’s fingers digging into Martin’s shoulders, Jon’s heart thudding in his chest—Martin can feel it now. And he doesn’t bother to stop himself from crying anymore. He just holds onto Jon—Jon, awake, Jon, alive, Jon's head on his shoulder—and keeps telling himself, over and over again, that it’s all okay, it can all be okay now.

4. Jon ends up staying with Martin. It makes sense—Jon doesn’t have a flat, and neither do the others—Basira and Melanie have been living in the Archives, and Georgie hasn’t said anything to either of them since the hospital (Martin has still never met her). But Martin still has a flat. And Jon deserves better than a cot, after months of hospital beds, so Martin offers to let him stay, and Jon agrees.

The marvel of it is too much—after months of quiet in the Archives, months of growing apart from Melanie and Basira, months of isolation and feeling lost, months of Jon being asleep… the reality of Jon standing in his kitchen, Jon drinking tea at his dining room table, is genuinely overwhelming. There’s a dozen things Martin wants to say without knowing if he should, a dozen things he wants to explain. Basira filled him in on most of the important things, but they haven’t gotten a chance to talk about any of them, and there’s even more things Martin wants to say, if he knew how to say them. He wants to talk to Jon about how much he’s missed Tim—how much of his mind has been stuck in the reality of that first year, when Tim was alive and Sasha was alive, and aside from Jon sort of hating him, everything mostly being all right. He wants to tell Jon about how much he’s missed him, when he was asleep—wants to say all the things he’s been able to say to Elias and a goddamn tape recorder, but not to Jon himself. He wants to tell Jon about his mum. He wants to tell Jon he visited every single week, sometimes two or three times. He wants to talk about how horrible this all has been, and what they do next, how they move on from this, because he genuinely does not know. He wants to talk about all of it.

He wants to tell Jon about Peter’s offer, and he wants Jon to tell him not to take it. Because a part of him still thinks he needs to take it. He thinks about Peter’s warnings, and his promises to keep them all safe. And yes, Jon is awake now, but shouldn’t that be even more reason to take it? To keep Jon safe, too, now that he’s awake and can be put in danger? And there’s still the others, in the same danger they would’ve been before, and they deserve to be safe, too—and Martin isn’t the hero by a long shot, but he wants to be, wants to do something more to make a difference besides lighting some fires while Tim and Jon went off to die. He wants to make the noble decision, even if it will be a thousand times harder with Jon here in front of him. But he also wants Jon to talk him out of it.

Martin doesn’t say any of this to Jon, because he can’t. Not with everything Jon’s been through—in a coma for months, how selfish can Martin be? He makes tea, and he sits at the kitchen table with Jon, and he answers Jon’s questions about what he’s missed, and he tries not to think about Peter’s offer. The urgency in his voice that was probably a lie. He keeps getting paranoid that Peter will see him sitting here with Jon (Peter is not Elias), and that Peter will insist that he can’t be doing this, that he’s breaking their agreement (except Martin never agreed), and then try to tell Martin that the deal is forfeit now, and it’s too late. And it’s absurd, because Martin doesn’t want to take the deal—except he’s scared about what not taking it might mean. Scared about how this will all end, scared that if he doesn’t take the deal that something will happen—and what if Jon (or Melanie, or Basira) die and it’s because of him, because he turned down this chance? Except that he was only going to take it because Jon wasn’t ever going to wake up, and now he’s here, and how can Martin leave now, after everything?

There is simultaneously too much and not enough to talk about, and Jon doesn’t seem to know how to initiate it either, so they talk about nothing. They end up on the couch, flipping through the television channels, and Jon asks some lighthearted questions about what he’s missed on TV shows Martin didn’t even know he watched. It’s easy enough to make that kind of small talk, over other kinds, and it’s enough to get them both laughing a little. They stay on the couch for a long time. (Martin halfway expects Jon to be tired, to need to get more sleep—and halfway decides to leave a couple of times, an attempt to give Jon space, before deciding in the other direction—but Jon never mentions needing sleep, and Martin guesses if he was sleeping for months on end, he probably wouldn’t be tired, either. So he stays on the couch with Jon.)

At some point, they do start talking: about Tim, about the missing months, about how hard everything has been. Martin doesn’t bring up the thing with Peter, not yet, but he talks about all the rest. (The tremor in Jon’s voice when he tells Martin he’s sorry about his mother is almost too much to take. There’s still a lot Martin hasn’t talked about yet.) Martin tries to find the balance—he doesn’t want to put too much onto Jon, with everything Jon’s been through, he can’t do that—but he’s honest, too. He says, I… I missed you, Jon. We all did—but I… He says, It’s been… bad. Hard. While you’ve been gone, and he tries not to think about how often Jon was gone, before the Unknowing; how far Jon pulled away after Prentiss. They had time—limited time—between America and the Unknowing, but then Jon was asleep, and now—if Martin takes Peter’s deal; if Jon has to leave again…

Jon takes a sharp breath. The room is dark, and Martin isn’t looking at him, but he feels it when Jon, tentatively, takes his hand. (Like a dozen nights in his hospital room except Jon’s awake and his hand is warm, his pulse beating against Martin’s thumb, and Jon initiated it, and it’s all okay now.) “Well,” says Jon, uncertain and reassuring all at once, somehow. “I’m… I’m here now. And I don’t know how much help I’ll really be, with… everything. But Martin, I promise… I-I’m not going anywhere. Not anytime soon.”

5. And Martin decides, in that moment, and in the moments after, and in the email he writes out the next morning, in frank, firm language. He decides then. Jon is back, and there has to be another way out, a way that they can figure it out together. So Martin doesn’t take Peter’s deal.

(send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons)

[lemonlillybee]

Sicktember Day 2: Peter Parker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Sicktember Day 2

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41442750

Title: Peter Parker and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Prompt: Alt #4 Taking A Sick Day

Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU)

Word Count: ~2700

A/N: Continuing on day two of this very exciting month with an alternate prompt, as I used #2 in yesterday’s fic :) @sicktember

Sometimes, Peter forgets to drink water. 

Although, if he’s being honest with himself, most of the time he forgets to drink water. Between Aunt May, who’s a nurse, Ned, who has a “hydrate or die-drate” sticker on his forty ounce insulated water bottle that he carries around like a security blanket, and Tony, who’s taken a keen interest in Peter’s well-being since Germany, he gets plenty of reminders to drink water. 

Even so, he’s not the best at actually drinking the water, and as a result he wakes up most mornings with a dry throat.

So it’s not much of a surprise when he wakes up on Thursday morning with a super, super dry throat. This morning, however, something is different. It’s less of a dry throat and more of a…sore throat. Almost like he’s getting sick, which would be surprising, considering he hasn’t been sick since the spider bite and he’s pretty sure he can’t even get sick any more. When he turns over to check his nightstand for a cup of water, he doesn’t realize he’s so close to the edge of the bed, and he falls off. For some reason– maybe it’s because he’s still trying to wake up, or maybe it’s because his legs are all tangled up in his sheets– he’s not able to catch himself like he normally would be able to, and he lands headfirst on the floor with a loud thud. 

Great. He can now add a headache to the sore throat. 

Well, he’s not really sure if he had a headache before or after hitting his head on the ground, but either way he’s not off to a great start this morning. 

“Peter?” May stumbles into his room, half asleep, frowning as she takes in the sight of her nephew tangled up in his sheets on the floor. “Are you okay?”

Peter lifts his head up off the ground with a groan. 

“I am so, so sorry, May. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay, I only fell asleep…” She trails off, checking her watch. “One hour ago.”

Peter lets his head fall back against the floor, feeling even worse. Just then, he sneezes, and it’s so loud it echoes off the apartment walls. Peter winces as the sneeze scrapes his throat and shifts a whole mess of congestion around in his sinuses and shit, he’s definitely getting sick.

“Are you getting sick?” 

Peter shakes his head, but they both know he is. 

“Why don’t you take a sick day, sweetheart? I’ll call in for you.”

“No! No, I should really go to school. I have two tests on Friday, and I want to be in class for review.” 

“Today is Friday, Peter.” 

“Ugh. Of course it is!” Peter throws his hands into the air in frustration, accidentally hitting his nightstand and sending his alarm clock tumbling toward his face. Luckily, his enhanced senses finally wake up and he’s able to catch it a second before it crashes into his nose.

“Nice reflexes,” May says, her eyes narrowing. “If you’re going to school, please be mindful of covering your coughs and sneezes so you don’t spread your germs to your classmates.”

Peter rolls his eyes, sitting up slowly and rubbing at his right temple. He looks at the alarm clock in his other hand and gasps. 

“Oh no, I’m going to be late!” 

Sometimes, it’s agonizing to have to ride the subway when he knows he could physically run to school faster– if he didn’t have to keep the whole superhero identity thing a secret, that is. Instead, he just breaks into what is hopefully an average looking run as soon as he steps off the subway. He’s one block away from Midtown with one minute left until the bell rings when he runs right into a puddle. Looking down at his now completely soaked shoes, Peter sighs dejectedly, his shoulders slumping when he hears the school bell ring in the distance. He jogs the rest of the way, cursing under his breath and coming to the conclusion that he’s having the absolute worst day in the history of bad days. 

Turns out, there are too many ways his day could get even worse. 

In chemistry, they take a test that he feels woefully unprepared for, and between his sore throat, headache and rapidly increasing congestion, he can barely concentrate.

In Spanish, Señora Benetti hands back their pop quizzes from Monday and Peter looks down in disappointment to see a bright red B minus.

He can’t find his calculus homework anywhere in his backpack when it’s time to turn it in, and Ned and MJ give him odd looks, their expressions a mixture of confusion and pity.

When he’s walking to their table in the cafeteria, he bumps into a garbage can and drops his tray of food. Ned offers to share his lunch, but Peter declines, too embarrassed and fed up to eat anyway.

His second test of the day in English goes somehow worse than chemistry, and Peter doesn’t even finish all of the questions before the bell rings. His teacher frowns at him as he tries to scribble out one more answer as the rest of his classmates file out, but he doesn’t let him finish, and Peter feels as empty as the second half of the test looks.

Flash trips him during warm up laps in P.E. and he has to let himself fall freely, landing forecfully on one elbow and causing Flash and his dumb friends to laugh at him when he cries out in pain. 

On his way home from school, he’s looking down at his phone when he steps in the same damn puddle as before, once again soaking his still damp socks and shoes. 

He finds himself at a hot dog stand before patrol, his stomach growling, and he buys four hot dogs to tide him over until dinner. His plan is to take them up to a rooftop nearby and eat before donning his Spider-Man suit, but when he ducks into an alleyway to swing up, he trips over an old tire, sending three of the hot dogs flying. A pair of stray dogs descend on the food, and one of them is bold enough to snatch the remaining hot dog from his hands before running off.

“This day sucks!” He yells. The sound echoes in the alley. 

Peter sinks to the ground. He’s cold, sick, hungry, and exhausted. If only he had listened to May and stayed home from school today, he probably wouldn’t be in this situation. What he would give to have a do-over of this crappy day. 

In the distance, there’s a sudden scream, and the hair on the back of Peter’s neck stands up. He ducks behind a dumpster and changes into his suit, then swings in the direction of the scream. Three blocks over, he comes across a man accosting an elderly woman, his hand closing around the strap of her purse. Peter aims his web at the man’s wrist and shoots, dragging his arm back from the purse, and the man spins around to face him with a startled grunt.

Sirens sound in the distance as Peter pins the man against the wall with more webs, and he looks around to see a few bystanders nearby. He gives them a friendly wave, then hands the woman her purse, waiting for her to get safely around the corner before he leaves the scene. 

Finally, he thinks as he swings above the city, things are turning around. Helping people always makes his day better. There’s a feeling of relief that fills his chest, making him feel lighter, and even though he’s still definitely sick, things are finally looking up. The thought quickly fades as a sneeze creeps up on him, and he jerks forward, his swinging interrupted by the forceful expulsion from his mouth and nose. His web breaks off and he somersaults in the air, unable to stop himself before he slams face first into a light pole, and he hears a terrible crunching sound come from his nose as his face erupts in agonizing pain. He barely manages to wrap an arm around the pole to slow himself as he slides down, and he lands on his feet for just a second before he collapses onto the ground.  

Peter sucks in a sharp breath and carefully pulls his mask up, lifting a shaky hand to his nose. There’s blood everywhere, and he cups a hand under his nose, ducking into another alleyway to assess the situation. His nose is most definitely broken, and there’s no way he’s going to be able to continue with patrol today, so he makes his way back to where he stashed his backpack. 

He pulls his completely full water bottle out of his backpack, thankful that he’s so bad at hydrating, and uses the water to clean himself up a bit. His nose is swollen and every touch makes it sting. He sulks as he washes the blood from his face and hands, but even worse than the pain is the fact that he has to cut patrol short and go back home so early in the day.

At least May will be home. Sure, she’ll kill him for how bad his nose looks, but he can tell her he got in a fight at school and that it’s just bruised, and with his enhanced healing she’ll never have to know it’s broken. She’ll give him ice, and maybe make him hot chocolate and bundle him up with fluffy blankets and watch TV with him until she has to go to work. The thought of letting his aunt take care of him perks him up a little, and he hurries the rest of the way home, mouth salivating at the thought of the giant pile of whipped cream May always used to let him put on his hot chocolate whenever he was sick before the bite. 

“May?” He calls as he enters the apartment, but his voice seems to have given up and it comes out as a croak instead. He clears his throat, which makes him cough, and he doubles over, whole body trembling from the exertion. When he’s finally able to get in a breath, his throat feels raw and his face is throbbing. “May? He pants, walking farther into the apartment. “May? Where are you?” There’s still no answer, and Peter’s heart sinks when he sees a note sitting on the table.

Had to go in to work early. There’s leftovers in the fridge for dinner. Larb you!

Peter’s eyes burn with hot tears, and he feels stupid for caring so much that May isn’t home. He plops down onto the couch and tries to blink back the tears. Four minutes into feeling sorry for himself, his phone vibrates, and he picks it up, gulping when he sees the message from Mr. Stark.

Tony Stark: Happy is pissed. You better have a good reason for skipping lab day.

Shit. Shit shit shit. 

He’s so dead. 

Running makes his swollen nose throb, and it’s now pouring down rain, but he finds himself running most of the way to the Tower, subway be damned. When he finally arrives, he’s soaking wet, and his throat is on fire. His hair is dripping into his face and his nose is running relentlessly, and he drags his sleeve under his nose without thinking, yelping when the action results in intense, throbbing pain. In the elevator, he tries to pull himself together, but he’s not sure it’ll do much when he looks like he just walked in from a– well, a rainstorm. 

“You’re here,” Tony says cooly when the elevator doors open, his back to Peter. Peter scurries over to his station, cringing at the way his shoes squelch loudly with each step. 

“I’m not going to send Happy to pick you up from school next week if you’re not gonna show,” he continues, and Peter looks down at the table, face flushing. He hears Tony finally turn around to face him. “I’m a little disappointed, to be–” 

Tony stops talking, and Peter looks up to see him staring at him in shock.

“Holy shit, Peter, what happened to your face?” 

Peter lifts a hand to his face and gingerly touches the tip of his nose.

“I think I broke my nose,” Peter mumbles. He keeps his eyes down as Tony approaches.

“You think? No shit, Peter. Have you put any ice on it?” 

Peter shakes his head, biting his lip guiltily.  

“What the hell happened?” 

Tony’s tone is still curt, and Peter suddenly can’t stop the wave of emotions that washes over him. The tears come fast, and he leans forward in his chair, sobbing hard. “I have a cold and a broken nose and everyone is mad at me and I got a B minus in Spanish and I’m pretty sure I failed two tests today and a dog stole my hotdog and May had to go to work early so she couldn’t even make me hot chocolate, and–” Peter breaks off to cough, tears streaming down his face. 

When he stops coughing, he takes a deep, shaky breath, swiping at his eyes, and Tony stares at him with an unreadable expression. 

“Did you say you got a B minus in Spanish?” He finally asks, and Peter’s lower lip quivers as he nods.

“On the pop quiz.”

“On…a pop quiz?”

Peter sniffles and then winces.

“And you’re sick?”

Peter nods again. 

“Peter,” Tony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That B minus isn’t a bad grade, especially for a pop quiz. And if you’re sick, that’s not your fault. That sucks, yes, but you need to take it easy and stop trying to do so much. It’s okay to rest if you’re not feeling well and it’s okay to not do well on a test. I promise.” 

He sounds like he’s trying to convince the both of them, but Peter doesn’t notice. At that moment, Tony realizes that literally anything he does for the kid is going to make him feel better, but he starts with something simple.

“I can make you hot chocolate.” 

Peter’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. 

“I’m no Aunt May– I mean, have you seen that woman?” Tony chuckles when Peter frowns in disgust. “But I do know how to make a mean mug of hot chocolate.” 

Tony motions for Peter to follow, and he leads him to the common room. Once Peter is settled on the couch with a blanket and a movie, he makes him hot chocolate, and Peter sips it contentedly. Tony perches on the arm of the couch, studying the high schooler as he rubs sleepily at his eye with a fist.

“How long do you think it will take for your nose to heal?”

“It usually takes about three days.”

“Usually?” 

Peter shrugs sheepishly. “Uh…I’ve only broken my nose one other time since the spider bite.” 

“Hmm.” Tony squints at him. “How long until you shake that cold?”

“I have no idea. This is the first time I’ve been sick since the bite.” 

“Hmm.”

Peter shifts around, self-conscious under Tony’s scrutiny, and Tony takes pity on him, filing his other questions away in the back of his head for a different day. 

“Scoot over,” he says, nudging Peter’s legs and sitting when he moves them. “I’ve never seen this one.”

“You’ve never seen The Force Awakens?” Peter gasps, and Tony chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve seen the really, really old Star Wars movies, though, right?” 

“Ha ha, Underoos. Good one. Yes, I’ve seen the really, really ancient Star Wars movies.”

Peter smiles and then coughs. He shivers slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders, and then falls silent. Tony relaxes in his seat, half watching the movie and half watching Peter.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter mumbles sleepily halfway through the movie.

“What’s up?”

“Next time I wake up with a sore throat, I’m taking a sick day.” 

Tony barks out a laugh and pats a blanket-covered foot. “Good plan, kid. Good plan.”

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Summary: PART 5 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and figuring out how to survive his new life while finding out a way to keep you in it. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, torture, blood, death eater stuff - the usual ! 

Words: 7.8K

A/N: FINDING WAYS TO PROLONG THIS SERIES !!!! 😼 AND SORRY IF THERE ARE ANY MISTAKES ITS VERY LATE AND I NEVER CATCH THEM 😔 but omg my little week long hiatus I took was against my will but i’m back and healthy again and can finally think out sentences again lmao !!! also i DO own gif 

Draco stared at the vast, dark marble ceiling as he lied awake. His black silk sheets were strewn across his king bed in a lofty heap from when he had woken up. There was a sheen layer of sweat across his skin, but his room held no warmth and the draft that was coming in from his open windows was nothing less than freezing.

There wasn’t a moment where he had enough peace to sleep, but when he ultimately did; he always regretted ever drifting off when he felt the hot, ravenous feeling that ran through his body when he would jolt awake from a nightmare with his heart thundering against him and the inability to differentiate reality from a subconscious image. He would lie back down, breathing unevenly, and fixate on a random crack in the ceiling and let his now very tortured conscience remind him, “it all happened, you can't escape it!”

And that little malicious voice in his head was right. The horrible images in his mind weren’t made up or conjured by his brain - they were very real and he had lived through them.

He remembered the agonizing decision he had to make when he left the love of his life, jinxed and in hysterics in an abandoned classroom. He remembered his Headmaster, who he had cornered and disarmed who still offered him genuine help and guidance despite the wand pointed in his face. He remembered his once-favorite Professor, kill his Headmaster who he thought for maybe a second would be able to help him. He remembered bounding down the steps of the astronomy tower, wanting to topple over and vomit while he followed closely behind a billowing cape and several sniggering and smug Death Eaters into the halls of the unsuspecting school. He remembered his aunt wreaking havoc on the Great Hall with pure joy as he could only watch in horror while she shattered the windows in her celebration. He remembered walking through a maze of trees in a dazed stupor towards Hagrid’s hut, Bellatrix giggling maniacally beside him as she skipped past him. He remembered seeing Harry run towards them, hurling any hexes and curses he could think of towards Snape while he scurried off. He remembered meeting his mother at the momentarily failing barrier, her hand wrapping tightly around his arm before she apparated them home. He remembered the cold wooden floors underneath him and the way the Manor’s structure seemed to be crashing down onto him as he tried to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

When he would finish going over every mistake he had made that night, and every choice he could have made instead, he would turn over in his bed and stare out the large window in his room where he could see the cloudy night sky and the nature swinging around in the wind like it was in a constant state of what seemed like an approaching tornado. He would wonder about you, and what you were doing and what you thought of him. He wondered if you meant what you said - if you would truly never forgive him for leaving you there. He wondered if you thought it was him who killed Dumbledore and how you probably saw him as a killer now. He was in ceaseless disarray of wonder, a painful wonder that he couldn’t escape.

He didn’t dare try to owl you, especially with Bellatrix around the house as a very vigilant guard dog that noticed anything and everything. There were barely any opportunities in which he could leave the Manor, not by foot, by broom, or apparate. He was a prisoner in his own home, just as much as he was in his mind. The increasing amount of Death Eaters that came and went every day made him feel more unsettled than ever, all of them giving him intimidating and sneering looks as if he was a joke while they forcefully turned the Manor into their place of 'work'.

The day Lucius was released from Azkaban, Draco felt a slight hope that things would improve, that his father could somehow find a way to fix things for them as he always had and the young boy could finally step down from the responsibility he felt for his family. But what he saw in the foyer of his home wasn’t Lucius Malfoy; influential, formidable and feared by many - he saw a shell of a man who had lost all sense of who he was and had paid greatly for his failures. He recalled how his father had embraced him in a weak and shuddering hug, clinging onto him as a spew of desperate words incessantly flew from his mouth without making much sense. 

He knew immediately then that his father couldn’t swoop in and fix all his problems, and his mother couldn’t be left alone in all this. He was stuck, whether he liked it or not, and he had to follow through on anything and everything the Dark Lord expected from him or wanted out of his family.

He hated the way his home was defiled with death and wickedness. He hated the way there were lifeless bodies littered around the living room sometimes. He hated the echoing cries and pleas of those who were locked up in the dungeon below. He hated seeing Voldermort use his home as his headquarters, pacing the room in a self-given majesty and humiliating his father every chance he could get. The only reason the Malfoys weren’t killed off yet was, in Draco’s opinion, to be used as an example of what happens when you fail the Dark Lord, to be used as malicious entertainment, and to see just how far someone could be tortured from the inside. Draco did mend the cabinet, but he didn’t kill Dumbledore or die trying as his master had desired. He was always visibly apprehensive of everything he had to do and every order he was given. He wasn’t willingly cruel or vile and hated the idea of actually hurting anyone. His father had failed every mission he was given, and his mother wasn’t a Death Eater, to begin with. They were just there, as pawns and as sadistic pleasure. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was subsequently, a rare day that the Manor was empty. No one was walking through the halls or running their mucky shoes on the expensive upholstery of the furniture as they relaxed into it. Even his father was out, along with Bellatrix, which left only him and his mother at home.

Narcissa Malfoy was just as arrogant as her husband, valued the pro-pure-blood ideals she grew up with, and always appeared to be very cold and haughty. Yet there was one thing that she valued above most; her family. She was entirely devoted to her son and husband and loved them profoundly. It was for Draco she worried for the most and would do anything for. It was for Draco she would risk everything for and go against the Dark Lord for. 

So on the night she brought her son back home, and he was breaking down in her arms with cries about a girl she had never heard of - it piqued her curiosity more than she wanted to admit. She had asked Draco who you were a handful of times since that night, but he always refused to answer. She even went as far as asking Snape, pulling him aside one night behind a dark pillar in her home as everyone was leaving and whispered secretly to him.

“Severus, I know I’ve asked too much of you already but I need to know this,” she rushed to say in a very hushed and imperceptible tone but she knew he had heard her. He raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically. 

“What might that be?”

“On the night Draco came home, he was calling out for someone,” she began, “do you know if he was involved with anyone by the name of Y/N?”

She could have sworn she saw a twinge of muscles move in his cheek, but he only shook his head shortly from side to side.

“I apologize, Narcissa, but I know no student by that name,” he sighed. “Draco spent most of his time mending the vanishing cabinet, I doubt he had time to be venturing out in his love life.”

She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t brush off the intuition that was beating against her gut, nearly screaming at her that she was being lied to and there was more to the story. It’s not like she wanted the information to hurt you or to judge, she simply wanted to know who had broken through to her son during the year he was the most closed off. Who had impacted him so greatly, that now that it was seemingly over left him in shambles and withdrawn almost completely. If anything, she wanted to help. And if there was a possibility where she could, she would help Draco take it if it meant it would make his life easier. There was nothing more she wanted for him, free of pain and filled with hope, and if a certain individual would help her get him there - she would be willing to see it through.

With the opportunity of everyone gone, Narcissa trailed up to Draco’s room, letting her knuckles fall softly against the wooden double doors three times.

“Draco, dear, would you like to join me on a walk?”

She heard a shuffling from behind the door and a sharp sniffle, taking in a deep breath to prepare herself to see his poorly hidden tears that she knew she would be met with.

As she predicted, the doors opened and the blond stepped out of his room, lowering his red-rimmed eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t have to meet her worried gaze. He looked well-groomed as always, but she took notice that his skin seemed gray and dull. His eye bags were deep and nearly black from all his crying and lack of sleep. When she linked her arm through his, she felt the slight weight he had unwillingly lost in the past month that he’s been home. Her mind was spinning with concern, promising herself there that she was ready to do whatever she could for him, anything she could.

She led them out of their cold and darkened home, stepping out into the gardens that sat behind the Manor in a large vastness of gorgeous flower arrangements of whites, greens, and reds. There was a large marble fountain placed in the middle of the garden, spewing water smoothly from a small bowl that spilled into a larger one beneath it. It was boxed in with stone and surrounded with red amaryllis flowers, giving anyone enough space to sit around it without being splattered by droplets of water. 

It was a gloomy day, but a warm afternoon sun had peaked through the clouds and cast a glowy light around the house that she hadn’t seen in ages. It made her feel hopeful as she walked her and Draco through the garden, thinking of ways on how to approach him. She knew he had shot her down and changed the subject every time she brought up your name, even if it was in privacy, and she pleaded to the stars that this would ultimately be the chance she would get to find out. 

When they reached the fountain, she sat them down and watched as Draco slouched, silent and staring distantly at his shoes.

“Dear, I know you hate for me to bring this up,” she started slowly, shaking her head as she spoke, “but I want to know who she is. I want to be able to help you, and maybe even her. I know you’re in love, I see it in your eyes and I see it now that you’re apart. I know everything else certainly applies to how you’re feeling, but there’s a look for heartbreak, and you have it.”

Draco looked up at her, finally peering into her worried eyes as he contemplated what she said and what she offered. The last time he told someone about you, he was reprimanded and denied any sort of help, only suggestions for abandonment were given. He wanted to tell his mother all about you, but he wished it was under happier circumstances, however. 

He wished it would be him coming home during the summer, no Voldermort or Death Eaters in his life or his family’s, and arriving with you by his side after sending an owl to his parents about the new love in his life he wanted them to meet. He would boast about you and your smarts, care, ambitions, and beauty. He would make sure his parents understood just how important you were to him and just how amazing you truly were. He imagined their inevitable surrender and allowing him to invite you on one of their luxurious trips to somewhere beautiful and expensive. He pictured a yacht ride in Italy, your skin glowing and your smile bright as you gazed at him in delight under a warm summer sun. Or a grandeur trip to France, walking around the Parisian streets with you as he spoiled you with gifts and delicious gourmet food while ending the night under the Eiffel Tower. He wanted to see you leave on shopping trips with his mother, the two of you coming back with heavy bags and new memories while his mother would walk by him and secretly whisper, “I love her!” to him. He wanted to flaunt you, and boast and gloat all about you - but the circumstances now were dreadful, and to talk about how he had failed you made him want to cry all over again. 

His mother waited patiently for his reply, clasping her hands together in her lap as he stayed quiet while he decided. He was so used to sulking and torturing himself on his own in the past month, that seeing a genuine look of concern and desire to help pushed him into making his final resolve.

“I met her around the beginning of last year,” he breathed out finally, “her name is Y/N Y/L/N, we had a Potions class together but I met her in one of the corridors where we accidentally bumped into each other. I sprained a finger trying to catch myself and she healed it without a second thought. She wants to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s after Hogwarts, and she’s very skilled with her wand. She’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met and the kindest. She always listened to me, and helped me, and encouraged me. She always reassured me when I needed it, and if it weren’t for her I don’t think I would have mended the cabinet or even had the energy to wake up every day. She stayed with me even when I told her the truth about everything. I’ve never met anyone who makes me feel the way she does, I can’t explain it, she makes me feel-”

“Alive?” His mother softly finished for him. “She makes you feel alive.”

“Yes,” he nods fervently, “I love her and I failed her. I don’t think there’s anything I can do now and neither can you.”

“I beg to differ,” she briskly interjects. “It’s never too late for anything, Draco. There’s always an opportunity to make things right, as long as you try. She at least deserves an explanation and an apology, and it will be up to her to decide what she wants to do. She sounds wonderful, and I’m glad you met someone who brings out your best.”

Draco agreed wordlessly, his tears sitting at the brink of his eyelids begging to be released as he mulled over everything that was said. He knew where you lived, having learned the fact somewhere in your relationship when you were talking about your childhood and where you were from. He knew the place you called home and the address that came with it that you constantly reminded him of in hopeful jokes that he would visit you over the summer.

“There’s no one here, no one would know you’re gone,” Narcissa encourages swiftly as if she knew what he was thinking about. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone returns. Go to her.”

“But if I become involved with her again, he’ll find out, won’t he?” He insinuates in distress. “The reason I left her was to keep her safe from him, I don’t want her anywhere near this.”

“He won’t find out,” she promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Go.”

There was a hopeful and elating sensation that ran through his veins as he stood up, turning back to look at his mother as she nodded at him optimistically. He suddenly lunged towards her, giving her a tight hug and muttering thank you’s to her like a broken record before running out of the garden towards the front gate of the Manor.

As soon as he reached his exit, he used his newfound Death Eater ability to half-apparate himself into a thick black cloud of smoke that allowed him to fly over to where you were - not giving a care in the world if he were seen by muggles as he recklessly took every shortcut he knew towards your hometown.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

There was a slight breeze in the cloudy air that brought you comfort. It was cold, but refreshing - a sharp contrast against the burning feeling that never seemed to leave your body. You were back home now, in your small little town in England that held little to no wizards.

You spent a lot of your time wandering around the local stores and cafes nearby, mingling with strangers as you told them fake life stories for fun. There was also the small forest behind your house you regularly enjoyed, and all the small hidden creatures that you encountered along the way. You always brought along your family cat, the chunky orange tabby always finding his way for you outside of the forest when you got too far in, or if he sensed there was nearby danger and would warn you. Sometimes you would talk to him, complain to him about everything that was bothering you and he would respond to you now and then with broken meows and chirps that made you feel like he understood, even though he didn’t. It made you feel less alone.

Of course, you had your family that worried over your changed behaviors. They weren’t oblivious. They noticed the puffy eyes, the sniffles, and the quiet sobs that escaped under the space of your bedroom door when they would pass by in the middle of the night to get a glass of water from the kitchen. They noticed your sudden quietness, and your lack of interest in everything and hardly found you in the house. You were always out and about, trying to find anything and anyone to distract yourself from what was going on in your mind.

 It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to your family, even though they had incessantly offered their support, you just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would want to know about Draco, his family, and their beliefs. They would eventually figure out of his involvement with the Dark Lord and the looming second Wizarding war. They wouldn’t approve, and you didn’t want to hear the scolding you would get for ever giving him the time of day. You were bitter enough as it was, and the last thing you wanted to hear was how bad Draco was and how you were better off without him.

But even if you were supposed to be better off without him, a life where he wasn’t in it didn’t feel good at all. It felt empty and lost. You were used to his presence always being around you and how he was always a few minutes away from you. He was always available to you for anything and willingly; for company, affection, comfort, reassurance, love, everything. You hated the fact that you let yourself get attached, especially when you knew deep down the direction the relationship was going in.

There were days when you would wake up okay. Days where your mind blocked out your feelings entirely, including Draco and all the memories that came with him. There were days when you felt like you had finally forced yourself to move on, but always finding it to wear off when you’d clamber into bed at night and your brain started illustrating everything you didn’t want to remember. The silver band bracelet he had gifted you was in constant movement from your wrist and jewelry box, hidden on the days you wanted to forget him or sitting pretty on your skin on the days you missed him the most. As much as it hurt to think about him and remember him, you couldn’t stop the way your whole being drifted towards him.

You were currently stepping over a big fallen tree trunk covered in thick green moss, your cat following closely by your leg as he pranced and jumped over all his obstacles. You walked mindlessly around the greenery, not taking notice in the shape of the leaves of the fern you were placing your hand upon to move out of your way. It wasn’t until you felt the sharpened ends of the leaves dig deep into your skin that made you recoil your hand back in pain, a slight hiss leaving your mouth as a small gash began to form with blood flowing quickly upwards out of the new cut. Your hand was held in the air as you frantically looked around for anything that would stop the bleeding that was now dripping sleekly down your arm.

“Stupid ministry and underage magic,” you mutter under your breath. Your wand was in your pocket, begging to be used, but the idea of being sent a letter from the ministry that was now under the Voldermort's control quickly dispersed any desire you had to use it. “Come on, kitty. Let’s go back home, please.”

'Home' was a word the cat did understand. He bumped your leg with his head before meowing loudly at you as he began trotting off to your right side towards the exit of the forest. He moved stealthily, dodging in and out of everything that was in his path as you attempted to follow in his cleared steps. Every time you would trip or rest briefly, he would stop ahead of you and wait until you would walk towards him again before he started back on the journey.

When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sighed in relief at the thought of your first aid kit waiting patiently for you in the bathroom cupboard. And belatedly, your feet hit the stone path that led home, skipping slightly with your hand in the air before nearly toppling over your cat as he stopped abruptly in your path. You moved out of the way, last minute, and very clumsily before eyeing him suspiciously.

He was looking up at the sky, his ears pulled back and the fur on his back straightening up as his eyes frantically searched around the clouds above him. He wasn’t hissing like he normally did when he felt something dangerous coming, he looked more confused and alert than anything. You searched the sky with him for a minute before concluding he was being too wary so you bent down and pick him up with your uninjured hand, nearly scooping him into your arms until he carefully swiped at your arm.

“You’re being dramatic, there’s nothing there,” you exclaim at him irritably. You were stumped, on one hand, literally, you were still bleeding though it had significantly slowed down and was now just coagulated blood, and on the other hand, you couldn’t leave the cat outside because of the number of dead critters he left in his past outdoor ventures around the yard and his sometimes week-long disappearances that left everyone in the house worried.

In just a few seconds of your thinking, he had sprung forward and rushed towards the large open field that was a few feet away from your house. Although it was summer, it had been rainy and allowed the grassy field to flourish in tall and wild greenery. This did not help as you watched the fluff of orange disappear into the small jungle that lied ahead and you began to sprint after him, spotting his bushy tail in your vision every time he jumped over something. If you could use magic, this little ordeal would have gone much more different - but you couldn’t.

You chased him until the very near end of the field, spotting him sitting calmly as he looked back at you as if he was expecting you. Rolling your eyes, you reached towards him again to pick him up, if he wanted to go back to the house scratching and biting then so be it. You trained your gaze on him, trying your best to grab him as carefully and as slyly as you could. But as soon as your hand landed on the silky fur of his back, you heard a soft whooshing sound a few feet away in front of you and a very audible shuffle of dead grass crunching underneath someone's shoes as they moved slowly. 

You didn’t look up, all of a sudden feeling scared at who could have magically appeared in front of you, and instead, you waited for your cat to hiss and attack, but he sat himself down in a loaf as if he were in the most comfortable place in existence. This is when you looked up, and the sight before you was like an invisible force that knocked you onto your bottom as you jumped back in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

What was supposed to sound like a concerned question, came out a little ruder than you had intended, almost seething at the boy that was fearfully staring down at you.

“I’m sorry,” Draco ran his hands over his pallid face in distress, “I shouldn’t have come.”

There was an awkwardness that hung in the air. The two of you were finally where you had wanted to be, together, but now that you were face-to-face it couldn’t have been more perplexing. He didn’t know how to begin, and you weren’t sure if you should even listen to him. It was like a weird staring competition, he was taking in everything about you as you were doing the same to him. It was obvious you were both a wreck, and the damage was apparent on him the most as he was dealing with his Death Eater status now more than ever.

“Your hand is bleeding,” he stated suddenly. You didn’t have time to answer before he had cautiously walked over to you and sat down beside you in a flattened patch of grass. “Let me see it.”

Like magnets, your hand instantly fell into his cold grasp without you thinking about it. You eyed him carefully and quietly, observing him as he turned your injured hand over in his and inspected your gash like you had done many times in the past for him. You didn’t stop him when he took his wand out of his pocket and waved it over your wound, murmuring a familiar spell that closed the cut with ease, a small pink scar left in its place. 

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” you say lightly. “Thank you.”

“I learned from the best,” he smiles faintly. 

Neither of you moved from your sitting spots, and neither of you said anything. He would meet your eyes now and then and search them with such a pained expression that it took everything in you not to just throw yourself into his arms and cry in relief that he was there.

“I know it was Snape who killed Dumbledore and not you,” you break the silence apprehensively. “Harry told me.”

“Potter told you?” He grimaced, but he let out a breath of relief. “I would’ve thought the git would have loved to throw me under the bus. I didn’t even know he was there, then I see him chasing us down-”

“Draco, why are you here?” You asked him again, gingerly this time and cutting him off from his rambling in hopes that he would just cut to the chase on his unannounced appearance. He sighed, looking down at his now muddy, once expensive dress shoes.

“I needed to see you,” he answers honestly. “And I wanted to apologize for how I left things.”

You peered up at him with a raised eyebrow, bringing your knees up to your chest so you could rest your head against them as you faced him. “Let’s hear it.”

“I’m serious,” he frowned. “I’m sorry I used my wand against you. I’m sorry I shut you out. I’m sorry I left without giving you much of an explanation. I’m sorry I abandoned you and disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’m sorry I broke my promise that I would never leave you again.”

“Draco-”

“No, wait, I need you to understand that I thought leaving you was the only thing that would keep you safe. I would have never forgiven myself if I let you die for trying to help me, even if you say you’re ready to accept whatever fate is in store for you, I’m not. But I don’t want to run anymore, I don’t want to be away from you, I can’t do it and I always think I can let you go for your safety, but I can’t.”

There was a brief period of stillness as you contemplated his apology. Your head moved to fall in between your knees as your hands began to fiddle with the long strands of grass beneath you. You were stripping it and pulling at it, hoping that there would be a hidden message underneath the earth that would give you an answer on what to say or what to do, but it wasn’t possible. The only thing you found was the loose pitiful tears slipping down your face that seeped into spots of dry soil. Draco stayed wordless beside you, the only sound coming from him was uneven breaths as he stressed over your reaction.

You were caught in between wanting to give in, wanting to forgive him, and hug him and kiss him to make up for all the tortuous time lost, but there was also a part of you that was now afraid to trust. You wanted to, so badly, but everything felt so unpredictable. You weren’t sure whether you could handle him leaving again if he had to. And if he were to die at the end of all of this? There was no way you’d be able to recover from a loss like that. He was on an unforeseeable path that held no clear outcome.  

“I’m scared, Dray,” you sniffle, closing your eyes tightly as you began to answer him. “We’re not kids anymore fooling around at school. Everything is getting more real by the day. How am I supposed to be comfortable with the idea that you might-”

You stopped yourself from finishing, a soft sob escaping your throat at the near mention of his possible death. You felt him scoot closer to you, stopping about a few inches away from your shuddering body as he placed a reassuring hand on your lower back.

“You say you can’t accept the decision I made when I said I’m ready for whatever fate lies ahead of me,” you mumble miserably. “Well, I can’t accept yours either.”

“I won’t make any more promises I can’t keep,” he starts warily, “but I can promise you that as long as I’m around, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever. And as far as my future goes, I promise that I’ll do everything and anything I can to survive this.”

You had unhooked your arms from around your legs, bringing them underneath you as you sat yourself up to face him better. He was staring at you intently, hopeful gray eyes boring into yours with every emotion under the sun flashing through them. He didn’t show it, but he felt like at any moment he was going to faint. He had never seen such uncertainty on your face and it killed him, but he tried to remain stoic as he spoke and kept a brave face at every concern you had. He couldn’t guarantee you anything that lied ahead, but there was also nothing he wouldn’t do for you now.

“Okay,” you agree, finally giving him the consolation he had been woefully praying for. “I believe you, we can get through this together.”

There wasn’t another second spared before you speedily moved out of your sitting position to pounce him with a tight and suffocating hug. It was desperate and smothering, his arms wrapped tightly around your lower back as he pressed you deeply into his body as if you were going to disappear any second.

You didn’t care that you could barely breathe against his chest or that your knee was digging into the mud below you. It was the most relieving feeling in the world, finally being in his arms again with new hopes and possibilities that always found a way to present themselves. It was one of the many reasons that you knew he was the one for you. Everything with him felt easy, even if the world was crashing down around you. He could melt away all your pain and worries with one look, touch, or words. He felt like home and heaven all in one.

It came to you in the middle of your longing hug, that there was always going to be something looming over the two of you in the current state that the wizarding world was in. There’s no point in wasting time when everything could change overnight, just as it had that unforsaken day at Hogwarts before you were dragged home the next day. There was no reason for trying to stay away from him when it was everything you wanted and you knew then that you needed to take advantage of whatever time you had left with him.

“I'm sorry for saying I would never forgive you that night,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “And for being stubborn.”

“You had all the right to be angry with me,” he laments.

“But it didn’t make it okay,” you nuzzle yourself deeper in his embrace, frowning to yourself as you recalled the night.

He looked down at you, a pang of guilt hitting him when he saw the corners of your lips pulled down in sadness. He leaned down and carefully placed a kiss on your temple, lingering for a bit before moving away and muttering, “nothing about that night was okay.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

There wasn’t an inkling of an idea how long the two of you were sat outside, holding on tightly to each other as you filled each other in on any news that happened in the last month since you’ve seen each other. The only indication that let the two of you know that time had surely passed was that the sun had begun setting behind the valley in the distance. The moon now had a faint appearance in the purplish evening sky that was for the first time in a while, free of the heavy cloud covers.

You listened attentively as he told you about the Manor and how it was being used as a Death Eater meeting place. He told you about his father being released from Azkaban as a treat for the Malfoy’s since he had fixed the cabinet and disarmed Dumbledore for Snape to finish, unknowing to him that he would. He explained to you how ghostly he felt when he was venturing out of the school that night. He even scarcely described the horror that had gone on in the dead of night, when victims had been brought back to the house for ‘interrogations’ and the way their screams would keep him wide awake for days.

You nearly felt sick to your stomach the longer he went on, empathizing with him delicately when he would sometimes stop talking to take a deep painful shaky breath. The guilt that was eating away at him wasn’t hidden or pushed down, he expressed it very obviously and you couldn’t picture how he managed to hold a straight face in the sea of terrors he had encountered.

“You’re nothing like them,” you whispered tenderly to him when you saw the distant broken look that clouded his eyes. “You are good, Draco. Not once have I ever changed my mind about that.”

He was slipping, far and fast into the depths of his despair. His new life away from school was eating away at him now that he was forced to experience it upfront. He wasn’t cut out for it, nor did he want anything to do with it. It physically pained you that there was nothing you could do except offer him what you’ve always been able to provide; a listening ear and to remind him that he’s not the evil monster he deludes himself to be. 

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore,” he mumbled gloomily, taking your hand into his as he turned to look at you. “I want to hear about you and your summer.”

“It wasn’t pleasant or anything, honestly,” you shrug, “I spent most of it in the village nearby and the forest behind my house with my cat, who by the way knew you were coming somehow.”

You both suddenly turned to look for the orange tabby who had seemingly disappeared without either of you noticing sometime throughout the evening. 

“Where is the little critter so I can thank him for leading you to me,” he chuckled softly as you rolled your eyes.

“He’s probably back at home now but I’ll pass the message,” you bite back a smirk.

Draco felt the familiar fluttering of pixies in his stomach as he looked at you, a sense of exhilaration and delight shocking his body from its usual anguished state. He was so far gone in you and he never wanted to leave the feelings you left him with and with such little effort. He couldn’t count how many times he had the same thought in his head when he was around you, much like your own, he knew with you was where he was at his calmest and his happiest. It was like a chunk of agony being released from him that made him feel like he could breathe again without feeling like he was going to drown. Even if it was just for a few hours, he was always grateful for moments he shared with you and the comfort you brought him.

“I love you,” he said dazed, eyes locking onto yours intimately. “I hope you know that.”

"I love you,” you repeated, a coy smile making its way onto your features. 

“You know,” his thumb began mindlessly running over your knuckles as he spoke, “if it wasn’t for my mother knocking some sense into me earlier, I wouldn’t have had the great idea to show up here.”

He looked over at you when he felt you tense up completely, slightly worried at first before a small amusement quickly replaced his fear when he noticed you were gaping at him with wide wondrous eyes. 

“You told her about me?”

“All about you,” he nods, “I accidentally let your name slip a while back and she’s been asking me about you ever since. I didn’t want to say anything in case someone heard, but everyone was gone today and she got it out of me.”

“What did she say about me?” You asked him timidly as if it was the most important thing in the world for you.

He chortled quietly at your nervousness, “she said she thinks you’re wonderful and she’s glad we met. She pushed me to come and make things right with you and she offered to look out for us.”

There was an intense delight that beat against your chest at his answer. The only other person in his life who’s opinion he valued the most above all had made one about you, and it was one that was better than anything you could have ever hoped for. Narcissa Malfoy had vouched for you before she’s even properly met you and it left you feeling astounded and beyond appreciative.

“When you get home, please send her my regards,” you plead heartily, your hands clutching onto the lapels of his suit jacket as he laughed lightly. 

“I will, I will,” he smiles, “I have to be home soon, so she’ll hear about it within the next half hour.”

Draco pulled you up with him as he stood up, both of you finally stretching out your limbs with groans and sighs of relief from the tension of sitting for so long.

As you peered up at him, you let your hands slide up into the platinum blond strands that looked brighter than ever under the now bright moonlight. He placed a hand over one of your wrists, a smile growing on his face as he noticed the silver band sitting warmly against your skin. He leaned forward to press his forehead against yours, letting himself stay there for a minute as he tried to revel in the last few moments of peace he was going to try and prolong for the rest of his night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazed delicately over your cheekbone as you leaned into his touch. “Right back with you.”

“I’ll be waiting, Malfoy,” you grin.

For the first time that night, he ducked down and pressed his lips soft against yours. The gentleness quickly dissipated into longing and fervor as he kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do, seeking the closeness and union he missed so desperately. Neither of you made any move to pull apart as you melted into each other, basking completely in the feeling of being so close to one another like this again.

If it wasn’t for you worrying about his timely arrival back home before everyone, you would have allowed him to keep you like that forever. But much to your dismay, you tapped him lightly against his chest that let him know it was really time for him to leave if he wanted to keep his secret trip, secret.

You stood there sadly, watching him as he unwillingly backed away from you and whispered one more goodbye to you before he disappeared into the sky in a ghost of black smoke, the aroma of his cologne still lingering in the air and a swollen feeling against your lips that left you feeling fuzzy.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

The Malfoy Manor was staring eerily back at Draco when he finally arrived back in front of the main gate of the home. It was deathly quiet and dark, only a small light could be seen from the living room as he approached further into the property.

He swiftly ran up the steps, hand falling carefully onto the brass doorknob of the front entrance, stopping in his tracks completely when he heard a mixture of hushed angry voices.

“I told you, Bella,” he heard his mother exclaim fiercely. “He only went out to clear his head.”

“Clear his head of what?” his aunt sneered. “He’s falling weak, Cissy. He should be running around in joy that the Dark Lord has him in his inner circle.”

“My son is not weak, don’t you think this can all be a little overwhelming for someone who hasn’t even finished his schooling?” His mother defended him and he could picture the exact sneer on her face as she spoke.

“I want to know where he went,” Bellatrix says hotly, “he’s been gone too long.”

Draco ran through a list of excuses in his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he decided on one and put on a straight face as he turned the doorknob, cautiously stepping into the dimly lit living room where both his parents and aunt were waiting for him.

“Ah, there he is,” his father announced as he was the first one to see the boy clambering inside.

“I’m sorry I went off for so long,” Draco spoke up before anyone could ask. “I remember someone mentioning they had spotted Potter around a village nearby so I tried to go look for him.”

“Did you?” Bellatrix chastised. “And nothing?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged with a feigned annoyance.

“And you were alone?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, all by myself.”

Narcissa gave her sister a pointed look as she walked up to Draco, hand gripping tightly onto his arm before leading him away from the surprise interrogation and towards the foot of the stairs where she stopped him hastily.

“How did it go?” She asked almost inaudibly.

“Y/N sends her regards,” he whispered, “thank you.”

He gave his mother a warm hug good night before he hurriedly bounded up the stairs, looking down towards the living room once more where Bellatrix was eyeing him carefully. He decided on giving her a curt nod before vanishing into his bedroom and letting himself fall against the shut double doors, a large exhale of relief slipping past his lips as he was now safe to freely recall the night with a dazed smile he didn’t want to let go of.

PART 6

TAGLIST:

@viirgobbyy  @bluesunflowersz  @dreamyvcid  @goddessofgames  @natt-nih  @cheesecakes-randomshitz  @supersouthy  @rebellionsarebuiltonhopee  @peter-parka​  @thefandomplace​  @angelofslytherin​  @karentheugly​  @thebirdskeeponsinging​  @rubbyy420​  @bimyoux​  @lovely-valllll​  @angstywhore​  @moose-squirrel-asstiel​  @lordfxxker​  @dommiefinch​  @johannalauraaa​  @aestheticallymarauderss​  @mrs-isabela-malfoy @dogglefoggle​ @ba-responds​ @1tristful1

APOLOGIES IF I FORGOT ANYONEEE 🥺 BUT I REALLY HOPE EVERYONE ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER EVEN THO IT WASNT TOOO EVENTFUL ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I GOT ACTION FOR THE NEXT PIECES THO JUST WAITTTT

[bougiebutchbitch]

Hey I saw your post about anon haters and I agree. I've had some awful comments lately on one of my alternate blogs for a relatively small unknown fandom. Do you have any tips on dealing with this sort of thing?

Oh gosh nonnie - first off I'm so sorry you're having to deal with that. I say this to everyone who gets anon hate, but just... please know that they're useless pathetic cowards lmao.

By dint of being Loud And AnnoyingTM, I collect some anon hate from pretty much every fandom I’m in. It's easy to start wondering if the problem is you, until you realise you're literally just yelling happily about what you love on your blog.

If people don't like it, all they have to do is block and blacklist you and move on. There is never any excuse for harrassment.

Thankfully, as a result, I've developed a pretty solid way of handling anon hate!

Disclaimer: it goes without saying that there is no 'wrong' or 'right' way to deal with anon hate. It's horrible, and the victim is never at fault. The below is just some observations from having been on the internet and fielding this stuff since I was eleven (so, over a decade).

My heart goes out to you, and to everyone who's receiving anon hate. You deserve better.

First up, there are several different sorts of anon hate. Here are some of the common ones:

1. Basic trolling. Nasty messages that are just looking for engagement.

Solution: Just block it. Don't feed them. Laugh about it in your groupchat. Mock them mercilessly to your friends, but give them no public exposure.

2. Attempts to trigger. These are the cruellest: when people send you deliberately triggering content.

Solution: Blocking often doesn't work. A lot of these cunts use VPNs, because their sole purpose in life is to harass others, and they've figured out how to do it. Ignoring them doesn't work. They will just keep coming to your inbox and filling it with incredibly triggering stuff, because again, this is where they get off. Some of this stuff is very hard to even share and mock with your friends, because it's SO graphic and disgusting. If you're being targeted by a wanker like this, it's honestly best to turn off anon for at least a month.

I've tried to wait them out before while leaving anon on - for literally a year in one particularly pernicious case - and I got gross graphic triggering content in my inbox every fortnight or so despite me NEVER interacting or engaging.

So, just turn anon off. It's not worth it.

If they start making fake blogs to send you hate, report and block. If it gets too bad, turn off asks altogether. Again, it’s just not worth it.

3. People who are polite, but want you to change how you run your blog for literally no good reason except 'I am uncomfortable when you do not conform to my preferences'.

Solution: These are the most benign, but also the most annoying, lmao. I usually answer the first message I receive from people like this, mostly to mock them, because like... who does this rather than just unfollowing???? But if they keep trying to make it an argument when they're the ones coming into my online space and trying to make me change, rather than just... taking the very easy available measures to avoid me, I block 'em without warning or remorse.

Bye bitch.

I will say that one fun thing to do with this sort of person is to get one of your mates to send in another anon PRAISING you for EXACTLY what the anon is mad about lmaoooooooo

It makes them SO MAD, it's hilarious. I've farmed these idiots before and watched them have fucking breakdowns in my inbox from doing this skldflfsdjg. It's very satisfying, especially when you've got a whole groupchat laughing at them with you. But obviously, be aware that you're making them angry on purpose, and they might retaliate.

4. Bait. People who send you leading or misleading questions, in an attempt to get you to say something problematic, which will then encourage more hate.

Solution: You're under no obligation to answer. You don’t need to prove a nything to anyone.

Even if you answer perfectly, a lot of these weirdos will try to twist your words in any way they can, deliberately misquote or misinterpret what you’re saying. Just block 'em. It's not worth your energy to try and figure out their 'gotcha!’ games.

#

I hope that at least helps you feel a little less alone, nonnie. Please never be afraid to block people and turn off anon, if it's all getting too much. It doesn't make you weak; it doesn't mean they've won. It means you're taking important measures to set boundaries and show them that this sort of behaviour is unacceptable!

I'm wishing you all the best. It must be especially tough in a small fandom, where you feel like you know everyone. I’m really sorry you’re having to deal with this. x