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#that reasoning is only fair up until like. the third or fourth chest for my creations. anymore than that is just.......
i hate games with a carry capacity
you don’t understand i need to collect and keep absolutely everything just in case
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denaliwrites · 6 months
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My Heart's a Stereo
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Crowley x GN!Reader
Summary: Crowley fears a lot of things, but losing you is at the top of hios list.
Soundtrack: Stereo Hearts by Gym Class Heroes
Requests: Open!
Warnings: Canon-Typical Heart Proble--wait...
Life had, rather ironically, been a tad bit hectic since the doctors discovered something wrong with your heart. You understood, of course. You were young and otherwise healthy. There was really no reason for there to be a problem, so they were in a rush to find the proper diagnosis and fix you -- well, assuming it could be fixed, anyway.
And your poor boyfriend -- you could tell the situation pained him more than it did you, scared him more than it did you. Not that you weren't pained or scared, because of course you were. He just seemed... more open about it, like he couldn't be bothered to repress it.
Or maybe he wanted to show you that it was okay to be those things.
Even with that thought in mind, you didn't really let it show just how rattled you were over the whole thing. Crowley worried enough for the both of you, he didn't need yours compounding his.
Two months of extensive testing and few conclusive results didn't break you down. A third month of even more tests and several bad results delivered with devastating simplicity in a too-bright office painted in Caribbean sea green and decorated with gold and teal corporate art blotches didn't break you down.
No, what finally broke you down was the first night Crowley shook you awake.
It was a random night sometime in the fourth month -- the doctors were still running batteries of tests, but they'd generally accepted a diagnosis and had moved on to treatment.
Crowley insisted on staying by your side, at all times. In the doctors' offices, at home, at the grocery store, in Aziraphale's bookshop and, most adamantly, in bed.
He'd forbidden doing anything fun in that bed, so you weren't sure why he wanted so badly to be there.
At least, until you were woken one night to him desperately shaking you awake.
You blinked blearily up at him, eyes struggling to focus through the sleep still clawing at your consciousness and the aggressive shaking that was slowly working to chase away the sleep.
"C--Crowley," you whimpered, trying to shrug him off. "What the hell--stop!"
He stopped instantly, eyes widening as if he'd only just realized you were awake.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, stroking your face and chest lovingly -- no... wonderingly. "I'm so sorry. I just --" He made a sound at the back of his throat, but it wasn't like the one he usually made. This one sounded like a choked sob. "I just needed to make sure."
"Make sure? What?"
"That you were... I-I just... the thing is..."
"Crowley, please just tell me."
He hesitated, and you could see the gears behind his eyes turning, contemplating the best course of action. Whether telling you was a good idea or not. At first, you thought maybe he wasn't going to say anything. But then, quietly...
"Your heart stopped."
Oh.
"I had my ear over your heart, so I could listen -- hearing it, it comforts me. Knowing it's still going. I just... that's all I do, all night. Listen to your heart... but it -- it stopped. It stopped and --"
You weren't sure when the first tear fell, but you felt the dam break and you felt the sobs that shook your whole body.
Instantly, Crowley had you in his arms, wrapped up tight in a warm embrace that relaxed you all the way through.
"If you tell me it's okay to be scared," you managed through your sobs, "I swear to God."
He laughed, and it sounded wet, and you realized that he was crying too. "Sick of hearing me say that?"
"I'm sick of everyone saying it."
"Yeah, fair enough." He laughed again, and through the tears, you managed to join him.
The two of you stayed locked in that embrace for what felt like hours and, hell, maybe it was. Eventually, though, you mutually disengaged. While you wiped the tears from your face, Crowley moved to a stand.
"Where are you going?" you asked.
He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss in the center of your forehead. "I am going to go get you a hot chocolate."
You couldn't help the little moan that broke out from the back of your throat. "Okay, that does sound good... I guess you can go."
"Thank you, darling," he said teasingly.
You weren't left alone very long -- after that scare, you were sure Crowley would want to start following you even into the places he'd dared not go before, like the toilet and shower.
And though the moment of being alone was nice, you couldn't help but feel relief when you saw him walk in the door, mug of hot cocoa in hand.
He passed it off to you, then sat next to you on the bed and leaned over to kiss your temple. "I know you're tired of hearing it, but it really is okay to be scared. It's okay to feel anything -- but it... it's not okay to bury it all and pretend you don't feel anything. Those emotions are gonna be there, whether you want them to be or not."
You sighed into your hot cocoa. "I know," you whimpered. "I guess I just... I thought maybe if I pretended nothing was different, it'd go away, and people would stop treating me so delicately like they do now. I just want people to stop acting like I'm made of porcelain suddenly."
He looked so sad -- and you could see in his eyes that he was only just realizing he'd been part of the problem. "I'm sorry," he murmured into your shoulder as he leaned in to kiss it. "I'm so sorry. I should've known. I shouldn't have let my feelings affect how I treated you."
"It's okay," you said with a light shrug. "It's okay for you to feel things too. You're my partner -- this affects you too."
He kissed your shoulder again, then pulled you into an awkward side embrace. You didn't mind, though -- you wanted nothing more than to be close to him.
He bent weirdly so that he could rest his cheek over your chest, ear pressed to the spot just over your heart. You let your head fall -- gently -- over his throat, keeping him locked in that contorted position. He didn't seem to mind, more than content to listen to the beating of your heart until long after you'd finished your hot cocoa, and fallen asleep nestled into his neck.
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liz-allyn · 3 years
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shudder, part 3/6 [agent mobius x gn!reader]
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You're undercover on a mission with the team, and Mobius' affinity for cowboy culture is making things unexpectedly difficult.
Part 1 | Part 2
Series Summary: Pre-Loki series. You are one of the most dangerous variants the TVA has ever recovered, but Mobius knows what makes you tick. Five times he made you shudder, and the one time you returned the favor.
Words: 1.6k
Chapter Warnings/Tags: Language, period/canon-typical gun violence, cowboy!Mobius (valid as a warning), mutual pining, flirting, fluffy and fun, at least one naughty thought.
A/N: let me know how you feel about longer chapters!
III.
The next time it happened, it was 1881, and you looked ridiculous.
Your clothes were too tight and the leather smelled like the cattle you were wearing was still alive. You didn’t get to pick your uniform for this mission, and since you were supposed to be deep undercover in an active timeline scenario where reset charges were not permitted, wearing a TVA-issued “Variant” jacket wasn’t going to work.
So now here you were, sweating your ass off in what would one-day become the Las Vegas desert, with your partner wearing a giant 10 gallon hat holding a revolver to your back. He definitely looked ridiculous, and you let him know that. But to be fair, it was almost... cute. Sort of.
Variant T-3051 was the target, this stagecoach robbery at gunpoint was the trap, a Skrull artifact locked in a safe was the bait. And you were technically also bait, disguised as the hapless hostage.
Mobius laid it on extra thick for this one; you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself.
“Easy does it, fellas,” he said in a honeyed voice. “Everyone move nice and slow.” With one hand on your shoulder and one hand on the gun trained on your back, he urged you forward with a gentle double-squeeze near your collarbone. It was a little secret communication between you two. “Keep your hands up where I can see ‘em, sweet thing.”
You struggled not to overtly roll your eyes as you lifted your hands slightly higher. You were 99% sure that Mobius had never held a revolver in his life and probably didn’t know how to fire one. The man’s idea of excitement is debating top historical time periods at lunch with you or fantasizing about jet skis. Or whatever he fantasizes about.
You glanced at the team around you, a mix of Minutemen led by B-15 - on a giant ass horse holding a rifle steady with only her eyes visible behind a black bandana, and a band of outlaw civilians who were T-minus 9 minutes from their destined massacre. The mission, simply, was that one of these people was not like the others.
U-91, also dressed as a Frontierland cast member, barked an order to hand over the chest or else. While he was monologuing on about whatever “else” was, you were scanning the group carefully waiting for the Skrull variant to reveal himself. Or you were, until—
“Hey,” you heard Mobius softly whisper behind you. You glanced to the side without turning around as he leaned closer to you. “Nice work infiltrating the gang.”
You could feel the heat of his breath on the side of your neck, and your stomach was doing something odd because of it.
“Okay,” you whispered back, trying not to move your lips. “Now is an inappropriate time to—”
“Where did you learn to ride a horse like that?” he exclaimed under his breath. “That was incredible.”
You weren’t sure if it was the anxiety of the situation, the harsh sun off the surrounding mountain range, or his praise that was making your skin flush.
“Um,” you softly replied, taken aback that he was actually impressed, “I mean- my aunt used to have this pony ride business. They’d do birthday parties—”
U-91 snapped at you, the talkative hostage, “Hey! I said shut up!”
Mobius reared back his grip on your shoulder and suddenly you crashed back into his chest. You cried out as he wrapped his arms like a vise around you.
“That’s right, I said shut your trap!” he hissed at you, playing to the audience around him.
It wasn’t often that he got to play the bad guy, but he gave it a valiant effort. You could feel the (hopefully) unloaded barrel against your back. He brought his other hand up to your throat, firmly squeezing, pulling a gasp from you.
He leaned into your body, pulling you tightly against him, as he dripped sugar-coated poison in your ear. “Not another peep outta you, ya hear?”
The first thought that sprang through your head was remembering your kink for authoritative bad boys.
Uh-oh, was the second, third, and fourth thought in your mind.
Your core was tight and you realized how heavily you were breathing when his grip loosened slightly from your throat, slipping down just a tad. You felt the warmth of his hand and resting on the skin of your chest. B-15 was already giving orders, but your brain wasn’t following the conversation anymore.
“Are you okay?” Mobius breathed in your ear. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
You slowly exhaled the heat of your breath, shaking your head ‘no’ and ‘yes’ for some reason. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your neck and you knew he could feel it too.
“Did I scare you?” he asked, inquisitively. You could hear the edge of a grin in his voice.
Your brow furrowed. “What?”
“Did I scare you just now?” Your eyes darted back to the group of outlaws as B-15 began to round them up. You were definitely supposed to be paying attention to the mission, but all you could think about was how heavy his hand was on your chest. He could curl you into himself if he wanted to.
If he wanted to, and if you wanted him to, he could keep playing cowboy outlaws. He could steal you away from your bed in the middle of the night. Or maybe he could turn you in for a bounty and visit you while you’re locked in a jail cell, making you do favors for him in exchange for freedom…
Uh-oh.
He leaned in a little closer. You could feel the shadow of his lips at the nape of your neck. “I felt you shudder just now... Did you get scared?”
“No!” You replied, almost too loudly.
“Oh. Are you cold?”
“What? Why?”
“I mean, if you’re trembling and it’s not because you’re cold, and it’s not because you’re frightened, there must be some kind of reason, right?”
Your face was burning. You’re pretty sure it’s the sun. Heat stroke. You’re dying, probably, definitely, maybe.
You gritted your teeth. “Why. Are. We. Talking about this?!”
“It’s not me, is it?” he replied coolly, like taking a sip of bourbon and lemonade on a hot day. You could hear the smirk on his lips. “You’re not intimidated by me, are you?” His cast his eyes over your rosy cheek with a satisfied gaze. “Maybe I make you a little... nervous?”
“WHA’THUH HELL—?” A terrified twang rang out and you both were snatched out of the clouds. You looked up to see a green-faced cowboy, cow-Skrull? Skrull-boy? - hostile variant reach into the the side holster of one of his outlaw posse. As soon as the Skrull had his hands on his “partner’s” weapon, he shot his partner through the back, killing him (just a few minutes before his time).
Variant T-3051 was fast. As B-15 fired her rifle, he was already pulling another stunned outlaw in front of him as a shield. T-3051 raised his gun towards B-15 and fired towards her horse. The animal raised up on its hind legs, bucking her off.
“Take cover!” Mobius ordered, pulling you down with him, but there wasn’t much around.
T-3051 fired a shot blindly, striking U-91 in the arm. He dropped to the ground and crawled in a one-arm dash for cover.
In the chaotic confusion and fear, the other outlaws drew their weapons and began to fire on the TVA team and each other.
The horse that B-15 was riding began to trot off, trampling a fleeing outlaw. B-15 struggled to grab her weapon off of the ground, but T-3051’s boot dropped down on the rifle, pinning it beneath his foot. She looked up to see the barrel of T-3051’s gun pointed at her, sights trained.
You had already grabbed the single-action revolver out of Mobius’ hand. He reached for you, but you leapt out of hiding with his gun raised high.
You shot the gun out of the variant’s hand before he could fire. Stunned, T-3051 dropped backwards onto the ground as the other handful of living outlaws turned their attention towards you. With one hand rapidly pulling back the hammer as the other hand steadied your aim and squeezed the trigger, you knocked them down like bowling pins.
A few shots later and it was over. T-3051 attempted to crawl towards the stagecoach, but B-15 leapt on his back and collared him. With a push of the button, he was frozen in time.
“Target acquired,” she stated into a radio, winded from the skirmish.
Mobius jogged towards U-91 as he pulled himself to his feet. He deftly inspected the Minuteman’s injury. “U-91 is injured,” he reported into his own communications device. “Alert the infirmary. B-15?”
“All clear,” she nodded.
Mobius’ eyes searched the area frantically until they rested on you. You walked up to the safe as B-15 retrieved the alien artifact - a twisty, metallic, (oddly) phallic-shaped thing.
You snorted. “This is the bomb that could rip a planet in half?” you asked incredulously.
If you didn’t know any better, you thought you saw the tiniest smile on B-15’s lips. She radioed in, “Artifact is secure.”
Grinning with an amused chuckle, you glanced over and spotted Mobius gazing at you proudly, watching the sun rise and set in your smile. You felt your cheeks flush, dropping your eyes to the ground and biting your lip. God, this was bad. He could not look at you like that.
“Incredible,” you heard him breathe.
Part 4
A/N: Did you like it? Reblog & let me know! Also seriously, I feel like my chapters are getting long. If that’s a bummer for anyone, please say so.
@aloyssia @generalhugzzz
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princessofcurses · 3 years
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[2] Struggling Sweetly
Part 1
Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader & Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader Preface: Part 2. You’re devastated after your darling has cheated on you but an old friend has come to cheer you up. Unfortunately, it's never that easy. content warning: out of character, college AU, infidelity, alcohol, angst, sexy time, size kink, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, blood, depression Word Count: 6.2k If you like it, please leave a like and/or reblog ♡
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The next morning, you woke up with your cheek still squished to Satoru's chest and your leg draped over him. He was asleep and lightly snoring. You marveled at him: his soft and fair skin, his silky and messy hair, and oh god his toned body. The way you felt looking at him right now reminded you of the first time you met him and were captivated by him. It was your first year at Jujutsu High and Satoru was a third year. He was assigned to be your mentor and look out for you, the main reason being that the higher-ups had an eye on you, suspicious of your inexplicable strength. You were meeting in the courtyard and your impression as he walked towards you was that he was a giant; he's well over six feet! As you came to face each other, he had to look down to make eye contact with you which made you pout.
"Wow, Y/N! You're like a foot shorter than me."
The choppy laugh he let out annoyed you a bit and you stood there, staring at him in silence.
"Gojo Satoru. I'll be your mentor and guardian from now on!"
He reached out his hand for you to shake. You took his in yours and firmly gripped it, feeling his calluses and thinking this man works hard. His thumb lightly rubbed over the back of your hand and you quickly retracted yours, putting it back to your side, feeling a bit flustered.
"Gojo-san-"
"Call me Senpai."
You rolled your eyes, adding to your unamused expression while he snickered. You called him by the honorific with a bit of a hiss.
"Senpai, I don't need a guardian. I can take care of myself."
He shook his head and leaned forward to be at eye-level with you, putting his hands on your shoulders. A small vein on your forehead popped out from your irritation because of his patronizing behavior but then you caught a glimpse of his eyes above his pitch-black lenses. You had already known of the Six Eyes but they were even more beautiful and intense in person. They held the sparkling ocean, or maybe it's the sky, and thin clouds passed through them. You turned to ice, feeling mesmerized by him and his presence.
"I'm sure you can but it isn't just cursed spirits you need to be wary of. There are sorcerers that don't have good intentions for you too."
Noticing that you were in a bit of a daze, assumedly from his presence, he chuckled and put his arm around you and began walking.
"Well, don't worry. I'll be the best mentor and guardian. Ora. I'll show you around the campus."
That marked the beginning of a crush that lasted 4 1/2 years. It would've been 5 and maybe longer, but six months ago when you started your second year in college and Satoru started his fourth and last year, you met Sukuna who was in his last year as well.
Your reminiscing was cut short when Satoru began to stir, transitioning from dreaming to awakening. A groggy and throaty noise escaped from his mouth when he outstretched his arms and legs. Slowly opening his empyrean eyes, you perked up when his met yours. He smiled and spoke with a deep and sleepy voice that you found erotic.
"Hm? Have you been waiting for me to wake up?"
"No, no. I woke up not too long ago."
You stammered, not wanting him to know you spent the last several minutes ogling him in his sleep. You both sat up and Satoru began looking for his phone.
"What time is it?"
You unlocked your phone and held it up to his face so he could see the time.
"SHIT! 9 AM!? I was supposed to be in Osaka at 8 for a mission. Yaga's going to kill me."
Satoru hopped out of bed and frantically looked for his clothes, tearing the sheets up and looking under the bed. He found them and hurriedly put them on. You spotted his phone on the floor and picked it up to hand it to him.
"What's the mission?"
"Exorcising curses responsible for the many incomplete domains and missing people in the area."
"Sounds like fun! Can I come?"
"Sorry, sweets. I have to go alone since it's a field assignment for class. I'll be back in a few days. Wait for me?"
He gave you a peck on the cheek and patted the top of your head. You looked puzzled, pondering what he meant by 'wait for me' but before you got the chance to ask or even say goodbye, he had warped away.
Does he want me to wait in my room until he gets back? No, that can't be it. Ugh. I don't get it.
You went back under the covers and stared at the ceiling, sighing as you began to feel lonely. You opened up your contacts list on your phone and scrolled through the names, wondering who you should hit up to hang out with. You winced as you slowly passed by Sukuna's name; you pressed on his contact and was about to hit BLOCK but then an incoming call with his name on it took over your screen. The screen became blurry and your heart began to beat against your chest. Not knowing what to do, you waited there until the call went to voicemail but a few seconds after the ringing had stopped, he was calling again.
Don't answer it. There's nothing important he has to say to you.
Your hand holding your phone was shaking and you gave yourself a pep talk to be strong but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to talk to him. If you answered, you hoped he would grovel at your feet and beg you for your forgiveness. But then what would you do? What would you want to happen afterward? You rid your head of the hypothetical situation and blocked his number after his second call went to voicemail. He had left one this time.
"Y/N, I know you don't want to talk to me or see me but I'm begging you, please give me a chance to explain. If you're truly done with me, can't we at least talk so I can get closure? Call me back. I love you."
Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say he loves you. He had only said it a handful of times when you were still together. You tossed your phone to the other side of the room and brought the covers over your face.
“You love me, but you cheated on me? Why do you need closure, you idiot?”
You huffed in annoyance but then tears were escaping from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed the pillow Satoru used and buried your face in it, holding it to your chest tightly. His lingering scent made you feel a little better but you still sobbed into the pillow until you fell asleep.
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The next week, after doing nothing except sleeping and sulking, you decided to go out to the club tonight for a few drinks and music so loud you wouldn't be able to hear your thoughts. You didn't have club attire so you pulled up in black cargo pants, a black tube top, and black platform boots and luckily, it barely made the dress code and the bouncer let you in. As soon as you stepped inside, you felt the stale air from all of the people crowded together. You squished in between some and pushed your way through others to get to the bar. Once you finally made it, you took a seat and ordered a strawberry margarita. Every so often, someone took a seat beside you to try and talk to you but you rebuffed each one with just a wave of your hand without even giving them a glance.
Three margaritas later and you were feeling tipsy, thinking now is a good time for a cigarette. Stepping out of the stuffy club into fresh air, you pulled out a fresh pack and checked your purse and all of your pockets for a lighter, sighing when you didn't have one. You timidly began to ask the people around you but were out of luck because they either didn't have one or they wanted something in return for it. Unsuccessful in your pursuit, you took a seat at one of the tables with your unlit cigarette between your lips. You sighed, your elbow on the table and your hand supporting your head up, using your other one to scroll through your phone.
"Do you need a light?"
You stiffened knowing whose voice it was and you slowly turned your head up to see Sukuna standing before you, a smile with a hint of mal intent on his face. Shaken up and unsure of what to say, he used the pause to take a seat in front of you and he pulled out a lighter. You leaned in and your eyes locked onto each other’s as he lit your cigarette. Seeing your doe eyes ignited something in him and you saw a mischievous glint in his. Feeling uneasy, you closed your eyes and took a deep drag.
So unlucky.
"You're the last person I thought I'd see at the club. And alone too?"
"I was bored and needed to get out of my apartment. That's all."
"You look beautiful tonight."
Caught off guard by his compliment, you bit your lip to keep yourself from smiling, reminding yourself why you two aren't together anymore in the first place. His hand moved towards your face and you flinched a bit, but he gently brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear. You looked down feeling disconcerted, his slight touch sending a chill through you. You inhaled deeply, taking another drag and beginning to feel lightheaded from the alcohol you drank earlier even more.
"Thanks."
That was all you were able to mutter out. You felt awkward and didn't want to say anything at all. The feeling was intensified when Sukuna put his knee between your legs, rubbing it against your thigh. He loved teasing you in public places. He held his hand out over the table for you to grab. You apprehensively took it and he brought your hand close to his face and kissed the back of it. He then set your hand on the table, putting his over yours. You stared at him as blush formed across your cheeks, overwhelmed by his presence. He smirked at your docility.
"You haven't been answering my calls or texts. Did you block me?"
You quietly answered.
"I did."
He shook his head in dissatisfaction.
"That's mean, princess. You don't know how much I've missed you."
He moved his knee farther in between your legs so it was lightly brushing against your cunt. He hummed in amusement when he felt your warmth, the desire in his eyes tempting you. You focused on keeping your cool but you were slowly losing your inhibitions. You hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks and for a little while, you forgot what he looked like. But even in the dim light, you could see his features perfectly: his pink hair and undercut that you loved ruffling, his tattoos that you would trace over with your fingertips, his build under your small hands, and his aura that hypnotizes you. He cheated on you but that doesn't mean a hook-up was out of the question, right? You took a drag and puffed the smoke out, deciding to shift away from him and your rash ideas. You were brought back from your thoughts when a woman approached you two.
"Hi, baby!"
You tensed up hearing the woman speaking sweetly to Sukuna. She wore a white off-the-shoulder dress and looked elegant, contrasting the full-on black streetwear you had on. Feeling a tad jealous, you wondered if she was more his type than you were. They exchanged a kiss and you turned your head discreetly and cringed. You had a look of disappointment on your face that changed to a more friendly expression when she greeted you. Sukuna introduced you to each other but your cloudy thoughts didn’t let you catch her name. You tried your best to wear a polite smile though you really wanted to scream in anger or cry in dejection.
"You go ahead inside. I'll be there in a little bit."
He gave her a kiss on the cheek and then she scurried away, waving goodbye to the both of you. Sukuna then slowly turned to face you and you squinted at him with disgust. Before he got the chance to speak, you stood up to leave.
"I have to go."
"Wait, Y/N. She's no one."
Your thoughts were in a flurry, wondering how he could even say that after they had just kissed in front of you. Feeling disrespected, you scoffed at his absurd statement.
"Looks like I'm interrupting something. You don't have to lie to me anymore. We're done, remember?"
"You're the love of my life, Y/N. I'm only hanging out with her because I'm lonely and I don't have you around."
Tired of his nonsense, you took one last, long drag, finishing the cigarette and blowing the smoke in his face. You dropped the stoge to the floor, extinguishing the flame by rubbing it into the ground with your foot. Your face was hot with fury and intensity lined your voice.
"You missed me so you started seeing someone else? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I don't want anything to do with you. Okay? You cheated on me. You hurt me. You replaced me. We're finished."
You made a sound of disgust and turned your back to him, beginning to walk away. But he stood up after you and roughly caught your wrist, pulling you to his Herculean chest. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating and the warmth he radiated made you want to close the distance between you two but you reminded yourself he was already here with someone. Regardless of what he feels, his actions say something entirely different. You wanted to push him away but he spoke with a harsh tone that stopped you in your tracks.
"No, princess. Don't you know how much that hurts me?"
Sukuna looked down on you, scrutinizing you. He didn't want to get aggressive but he had lost his patience and he hated not getting his way. His dark stare brought a bit of fear to your eyes but you were enticed as well. The energy around him exuded sinful intentions and though your fight or flight response triggered, it exhilarated you more than anything. He leaned over to whisper in your ear, his voice deep and breathy.
"It's cute how defiant you're being but I think what you really want is to be taken for it in the back of my car right now."
His crass words were provoking you into submission. He leaned back and took hold of your chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting your head towards him and wearing a malevolent grin for you. His demeanor made you feel small and he knew it aroused you. He lightly pressed his lips against yours and hummed in contentment as you didn’t resist.
"I missed my little girl."
Stunned by the dominating air around him, you didn't kiss him back but you mindlessly followed him as he led you out of the patio area and to his car, his grip on your wrist still rough.
"Let's make up for lost time."
As you neared the vehicle, your thoughts began to flood. You knew this was a bad idea; your soul willed to reject him but your flesh was weak. You hadn't stopped missing Sukuna since you broke up and you wanted him so badly in this moment. You tried to justify it by telling yourself this was the last time for old time's sake and then you would really be finished with him. Your contemplation then transitioned to a vision of his date and you began to feel guilty, wondering how she would feel if she knew how low Sukuna could get. You almost brushed the thought off thinking Sukuna was yours in the first place but once he was about to open the door for you, Satoru's voice echoed in your head.
"Wait for me?"
Awakening from your stupor, you gasped and snatched your wrist back from Sukuna, Satoru's words finally making sense. You were dismayed at yourself as you almost traded your dignity for a little fling. You exhaled deeply and covered your face, tears collecting in your eyes. Ignoring the heartache in your chest, you steeled your resolve.
"I can't do this. If you really love me, you'd want what's best for me. And you're just not that. Not anymore."
His domineering presence disappeared and a bit of desperation was laced in his voice as he realized that you were no longer under his spell.
"Princess, please. I’ll do anything to atone."
"Save it for your next love."
You said it sharply but your chest ached as if you had just stabbed yourself with your own words. Tears ran down your face as you gave him a parting hug, cherishing for a few seconds the comfort you felt in his arms. You fit perfectly with him, his embrace on you snug yet tight and his chin resting on the top of your head. Not able to handle another second with him without sobbing, you teleported away. Sukuna stood there speechless, your warmth had left him and the rejection defeated him.
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Once Satoru came back from his mission, he took you out to eat. He sat across from you at the maid cafe he suggested you both go to, though he insisted it wasn't because of the outfits, rather it was because of their delicious desserts. He ordered a crepe filled with strawberries and bananas, topped with chocolate sauce and powdered sugar, and strawberry and vanilla ice cream on the side. Your eyes grew in size at the sickly sugary and loaded confection and your sweet tooth ached for it.
"Why couldn't you have gotten me my own crepe?"
"I got the biggest size so we could share! You wouldn't have been able to finish one on your own anyway, sweets."
You shrugged and quieted your protests. Eating a spoonful of the sweet course, you closed your eyes and hummed in delight. Satoru smiled warmly watching you eat and then followed suit.
"How was the mission?"
“A cakewalk. I thought it’d be a little challenging because of the volume of incomplete domains but a first-grade sorcerer would’ve been sufficient. What’d you do while I was gone?”
You were in awe at his coolness and confidence he effortlessly exuded. But at his question, you let out a long exhale and rested your chin on your knuckles.
“I went to a club and saw Sukuna with a girl. She called him baby and they kissed right in front of me."
"Ouch."
He made a straight face and pursed his lips. You were apprehensive to tell him what happened next, but you weren’t one to lie or keep things from others. You sighed again, anxiously moving fruit around the plate with your fork.
"Worst of all, he tried to seduce me and it almost worked."
He leaned forward in interest, raising his eyebrow and looking at you intently. You nervously met his gaze, unsure of what he thought about the situation.
"Almost?"
"My mind was all over the place debating whether I should or not but I decided not to because I remembered you telling me to wait for you."
He chuckled haughtily and patted you on the head endearingly. You winced at his reaction, his unpredictability confusing you as usual.
"I said wait for me? I meant that I'd be back soon. I'm flattered you thought I didn't want you having sex with anyone else. Though that isn't my decision to make, is it?"
Your palm met your forehead, feeling a little foolish at your misinterpretation of his words. Though you couldn’t be sure that that was what he really meant. Regardless, you didn't want to seem desperate for him.
"Well, whatever. Hooking up with him would've been a mistake."
He nodded, taking a spoonful of crepe, fruit, and ice cream and holding it up to your mouth to feed you. You gladly accepted it, looking up at him and making eye contact as your lips slipped off of the spoon. He returned your lusty stare, telling you that he knew what was on your mind.
"Is this… a date?"
You innocently asked him, not wanting to get the wrong idea of his company.
"Yeah, it is."
You were surprised at the seriousness of his tone. Usually, he teased you by skirting around these kinds of questions.
"And I want to ask you out on another date tonight. Suguru is throwing a party! Everyone will be there. Let's go together."
"That sounds like a lot of fun, but you should go without me. I'm assuming 'everyone' includes Sukuna too."
A look of disapproval was shown on your face at his proposition and he pouted, voicing his objection.
"He might be there but what does it matter? Are you scared of him?"
You sighed in exasperation, knowing this was a bad idea. But you had already stood up to him twice now. Surely you could do it again if a confrontation happened. Though you would prefer not to put yourself in a situation like that at all, you didn’t want his mere presence to influence your actions. You pushed the plate of dessert towards Satoru to signal you were full and done eating. He happily ate the rest. You conceded to him.
"Fine."
"Yay! I'll pick you up at 9 then."
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Later that night, Satoru arrived at your apartment an hour behind schedule. You were laying on your bed, hanging off the edge of it upside down when he walked in. He was wearing a fitted white dress shirt that you could easily see his muscular figure in and he had the first couple of buttons undone. Your eyes widened at his attractive appearance and you felt completely underdressed in your colorful shirt, baggy corduroy pants, and platform converse.
"Oh. It's that kind of party?"
His eyes lowered at your outfit and he frowned.
"I had a feeling you didn't have the right clothes for the occasion so I bought you something."
He handed you a black mini dress with spaghetti straps for you to wear. You took it and examined it, trying to decide if you liked it or not.
"You didn’t need to do that. It's not really something I'd buy for myself."
"At least try it on. Please? You can wear your platform boots with them."
You compromised and asked him to look away while you changed but he pretended not to hear you.
"Oh and Y/N? Don't wear a bra."
Your eyebrows scrunched and you pouted at him but you undressed down to your panties anyway. Satoru was obviously checking you out and you saw him lick his lips from the corner of your eye. He scanned you up and down, taking a bit more time viewing your breasts and ass that your panties couldn’t fully cover. You slipped on the dress and it fit a little too well, accentuating your curves and falling right at mid-thigh. After putting your platforms on, you looked at yourself in the mirror, content that you had at least one piece of clothing you were comfortable in.
Satoru came up behind you and hugged you, admiring your figure in the garment he had purchased just for you. His hands trailed the curve of your waist to your hips slowly while he pressed his lips against your ear, lightly licking your earlobe.
"You look delicious, sweets."
Taking one last look at yourself in the dress, and in his arms, you closed your eyes in satisfaction, your heart fluttering. He then grabbed your hand and led you out of the apartment to his car. After putting the key in the ignition, he drove fast, speeding recklessly towards Suguru’s residence. His driving unsettled you, but you were comforted when his hand moved to your thigh, giving it a squeeze. The drive was short and once you got there, you were on edge knowing Sukuna would see you tonight and would undoubtedly approach you. Your thoughts were interrupted when Satoru opened the car door for you and put his hand out for you to grab.
"You're welcome for the dress, by the way."
You turned your head and made a ‘hmph’ sound but then you batted your eyelashes at him and blushed, taking his hand and following his lead. Once you were inside and in view of your friends, you and Satoru unclasped hands, in silent agreement that you didn't want them to think anything was going on between you two yet.
"Fashionably late as usual. And Y/N! We haven't seen you in forever."
Suguru said as he lightly shoved Satoru. Suguru then embraced you tightly, picking you up and twirling you around. You yelped and Shoko came to your rescue, picking you out of his arms and giving you a tight hug as well. They both became straight-faced and asked how you were doing after the breakup. You chuckled nervously, putting your hand behind your head.
"I'm doing fine. Is Sukuna here already?"
"I haven't seen him yet. But wow! I've never seen you in a dress before. You look great."
Shoko nodded in agreement but then snickered after she surveyed you in the dress.
"Is it cold in here?"
Pointing to your nipples that were poking through your garment. Satoru and Suguru’s eyes fell to your chest and they both grinned. You instantly reddened and put your head down, calling them out.
"Stop looking!"
The three of them laughed endearingly while you crossed your arms over your chest to cover it. Shoko pulled you to the side while Suguru and Satoru began conversing with each other about their last missions.
"Seriously, Y/N. Are you okay? I heard Sukuna cheated on you and he's been seeing someone else already."
You sighed, a bit upset that your business was probably known by everyone by now.
"I saw them together at the club last week. It was terrible. Sukuna came with her but we almost hooked up in the back of his car while she was at the bar."
Shoko grimaced at the awkward situation. She put her arm around you to comfort you and you leaned into her.
"I just wanted to warn you that he'll probably show up with her tonight. And what about Satoru? You two are hanging out again?"
"Yeah, I'm slowly trying to reconnect with everyone I disappeared on when I started dating Sukuna."
She smiled knowing she'd be seeing you more often. Satoru and Suguru argued about who knows what but they resolved it quickly and rejoined your conversation.
"Well, you two should go grab a drink! Let's catch up later."
Suguru nudged you both in the direction of the alcohol. They had almost every kind but the only hard liquor you could keep down was tequila. Satoru knew that and had already poured you a shot.
"I'm only having a couple of drinks since I'm driving. I'll take care of you though."
"I can handle my alcohol, thank you very much."
You both said cheers and clinked shot cups. Downing the bitter drink, you made a face of disgust, wanting to cough it up. He then skillfully made two margaritas for both of you to sip on. You chugged it instead and Satoru furrowed his eyebrows at you, thinking he would definitely need to look out for you tonight despite your earlier protest.
"Do you wanna dance?"
You nodded and he led you into the dark room only dimly lit by red LED lights on the ceiling though you could see his intense eyes holding the heavens clearly. The faint light made the atmosphere erotic. He pulled you closer to him, his hand on the small of your back, and you awkwardly did a two-step dance. The unsynchronized movement didn’t fit with the music so he turned you around so your ass was on his crotch. He had to bend his knees a considerable amount because of your height difference. Regardless, he held you close and led your hips to grind on him. The slow swaying and the tequila setting in made you rid yourself of whatever awkwardness that was left.
"This dress looks a little too good on you."
He whispered in your ear as he began to get more frisky, one of his hands cupping your breast while the other crossed over your torso and rested on your hip. He held you close to him tightly, leaving no room between you two and wanting to get even closer. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, lightly kissing down it. You shivered a bit under his touch, sighing in gratification. Your hand found the nape of his neck and you held onto it, giving in to your lust as you felt his erection forming.
"Let's go somewhere else."
Grabbing your wrist, he eagerly led you out into the hallway where he pushed you against the wall, caging you between his arms. He kissed you feverishly, his lips smacking against yours and his tongue finding its way into your mouth where he brushed along your wet muscle. He lightly bit your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan, your body feeling loose and ready for more. Your hand trailed down his torso and over his groin, where you lightly grabbed his hard cock. He was a bit startled but then he smiled, kissing into you even more roughly, his hands cupping your face. You pulled away from his lips to lean over and whisper in his ear.
"Can we get out of here? I want you."
Your doe eyes and sweet voice feigning innocence made him drag you out of the house with a quickness.
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As soon as you got outside, he gave you another impassioned kiss and grabbed your ass with both of his hands. You two were about to head over to Satoru's car when you heard a thunderous voice.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Satoru?"
Sukuna stomped his way over to you two and placed his hand on Satoru's shoulder. Satoru made a sound of disgust and brushed his hand off, turning to face him. He leaned over to look at the woman standing beside Sukuna and he scoffed.
"Aren't you going to introduce us to your new girlfriend, Sukuna?"
Satoru spoke his name with a hiss and had the smuggest smile on his face seeing Sukuna seething with anger.
"She's not my girlfriend and what the fuck are you doing with Y/N? You're always getting your hands on my sloppy seconds."
You and Sukuna's date both winced at different parts of his harsh comments. This was probably the worst-case scenario.
"Don't be so full of yourself. Not a fan of your type, besides Y/N of course. And how could you cheat on the sweet girl? Let me guess, is it because you couldn't have the fucked up sex you want with her?"
The girl’s eyes widened, realizing Sukuna had cheated on you with her. You cringed at Satoru’s unintentional insult towards her, seeing how hurt and confused she was already. Your eyebrow raised at Satoru's comment and you inserted yourself into the conversation.
"What are you talking about, Satoru?"
Sukuna crossed his arms and shook his head. Satoru chuckled arrogantly and looked at you with darkened eyes.
"Why don't you tell her why you cheated, Suku?"
He mockingly called Sukuna by the nickname you had given to him. Sukuna sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead with his index finger and thumb in frustration. He didn’t want you to find out like this but he was caught and couldn’t lie anymore.
"I have some kinks I didn't think you'd be into. I got drunk and couldn't control myself when I met someone with similar quirks."
Sukuna spoke as if his date wasn't even there. She glanced at you with embarrassment and dipped her head down so none of us could see her face. You huffed in disbelief and you shot him a dirty look, glaring at him.
"That's why you cheated on me? You didn't trust me enough to tell me what you desired? You didn't even give me a chance to decide whether I did or not?"
"Y/N, what are you even doing with Satoru? Was looking like a pathetic puppy following him around for years not enough indication of how he feels about you? How hopeless everyone thought you were until you started dating me?"
He deflected your questions and you balled your fists in anger, feeling like you were close to your boiling point and about to explode.
"Pathetic, huh?"
"Yes, pathetic. Running back to Satoru as soon as we're over? You don't think it's odd he went after you as soon as he found out we broke up?"
You slapped Sukuna straight across his face, his head turning and your eyes glowing red at him with rage. Your cursed energy changed the air around you hostilely and the three of them shuddered feeling it. Sukuna placed his hand over his cheek where you had hit him and he scowled. His date trembled at your actions and she tugged on his sleeve to ask if he was okay, to which he shrugged her off insensitively.
"I don't give a damn what you think of what I'm doing, Sukuna. You cheated on me for an asinine reason and then you berate me for actions that have nothing to do with you. I never want to see you again."
You spoke jeeringly. Satoru tried to grab your hand to comfort you but you plucked it away from him. He began to plead with you. Sukuna smiled slightly seeing that he successfully pitted you against Satoru.
"Y/N, I told you I'd make everything right. And I will, slowly and steadily."
You rolled your eyes and shook your head in resentment. You were done with all of this and everyone, ready to leave it all behind.
"The both of you can go fuck yourselves."
Satoru looked at you with pained eyes while Sukuna couldn't even face you. You turned to Sukuna's date and sighed, putting your hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort. You were both completely humiliated and she was on the verge of tears. You had a similar feeling but anger was the more prominent emotion.
"I'm sorry about all of this. You really don't deserve it."
She was mortified and began to cry, unable to speak. You turned your back to the three of them and began walking away.
"Don't follow me. I mean it. You two disgust me. I don't know who or what you think I am but I'm not a fucking toy."
"Y/N, please…"
Satoru's voice trailed as the distance increased between you two. You released your balled fists and one of your palms was red and stinging from the vicious slap you gave Sukuna. You then put your hands over your face, groaning loudly.
"What the fuck was all that?"
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The walk home was miserable. You trudged back to your apartment, walking uncomfortably as the cold bit at your skin harshly and the dress hiked up your thighs. You constantly pulled the piece of clothing down to an almost modest length for the entire thirty-minute walk. The scene between you four replayed in your mind relentlessly. You wished you could just forget the past six months.
As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you fell down to your knees in front of the mirror. You examined yourself, thinking that you didn't like who you were or anyone very much at this moment. You banged on the mirror with the side of your fist, shattering the glass and distorting your reflection. Your hand began bleeding, shards of glass still embedded in it. And then, you began to sob hard, trying to catch your breath. Your chest felt heavy and your heart ached beneath it. Your phone hadn't stopped ringing since you left, mostly from calls and texts from Satoru, a few from Suguru and Shoko, and a couple from an unknown number which you assumed was Sukuna. You doubted yourself and the people closest to you.
"Am I not deserving of the love I give to others? Am I really just a pitiful person?"
You laid face down on the floor in despair. Exhaling deeply, you were unbearably exhausted and the confidence in yourself had completely dissipated. The depression began to settle in and you fell asleep in absolute defeat.
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Note: Watch out for fluff next chapter <3
master list
MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san
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shushiyuii · 3 years
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Hello, this is a writing request. I like the idea of Tommy being a reckless giant. It wasn’t a problem for him when he was alone sense it was the only way he knew how to interact with the world. It was only when he was found by his small family with SBI and bee duo he realized it might be a problem as he kept hurting them on accident. It also doesn’t help that some of them hide they’re bruises from him to spare his feelings.
Hello? I've got an order for?... Angst?... I think- I'm kidding! My lovely Anon, your delivery is served. Enjoy your fluffy angst.
Warnings: Descriptions of injury (That's about it!)
Words: 1.1k
Tommy had always been alone in the forest, always isolated with the only company being the twinkles of the stars and the fellow creatures around. Tommy never hated it though, for some reason he didn’t know, the loneliness never bothered him.
That all changed within a short period though, as of now he had 2 best friends, a father figure and 2 brother figures. He was wandering through the forest one day, the usual routine when he found the 5 hybrids.
Originally, he was going to leave them, but he saw some of them had a lot of injuries, 2 of them were limping and he noticed that one of the family members had wings and one of the wings seemed out of place, broken.
They were most probably hunted by humans, he could understand from his standpoint, in his fair share of living there, he has had the occasional run-in with humans. He hated humans.
He carefully approached the pack, one seemed fish like with fins for ears and scales covering his arms, brown hair, and eyes, most likely a siren, he limped to be limping as blood was flowing out of his leg. The second was built like a brute and had boar attributes with pink hair and red eyes.
The third is a tall ender hybrid and the other is unknown, monochrome coloured with heterochromia. The fourth was a goat hybrid, brown hair, and green eyes, he was the most injured of the bunch with the ender hybrid carrying him.
Then was what seemed like the eldest, he held large grey wings, with his wing out of place, he reminded Tommy much of himself in appearance with blonde hair and blue eyes.
After a bit of convincing, he was told that they were being hunted down by humans. That convinced everything in his head that he had to help them, so he managed to get the family to follow him. With Tommy’s help, they managed to stay away from the humans and tend to their wounds. And stayed with Tommy for a while.
“Stayed” is more like decided to live with him and not leave since they grew attached to the boy, they’ve practically moved in and are like family to Tommy now. They’ve been around for a couple of months now and he couldn’t be more grateful for his tiny family.
They brought so much more joy and excitement to his once boring life; he didn’t know what he’d do without them. He loves Wilbur’s songs he sings to them at night, Techno trying to fight against his hand with all his might, Phil telling tales of when he was younger and told stories of their past.
And went out exploring with Tubbo and Ranboo! They always had their fair number of adventures!
That doesn’t mean there wasn’t their fair share of problems with it though, since Tommy’s been isolated from society for so long, he doesn’t quite get the idea of being careful sometimes and can be a bit reckless and accident-prone.
This has led to a fair number of accidents with his family, he’s maybe squeezed them a little too much or dropping them from a small distance.
Tommy’s noticed his family trying to hide things from him lately, especially when there was an accident, when he asked about it they always said “Oh yeah, I’m fine mate. No worries!” or “What the fuck you on about gremlin?! I’m completely fine!”. He’s noticed them limp when they think they’re out of sight. It breaks his heart to see them like that, especially when he’s the cause.
He’s tried to be more careful but with little success, it always fails. And that’s why he was sitting by the cliff, to be alone with his thoughts. The cliff was barely a climb for him, he wouldn’t hurt himself if he fell, but his family sure would.
He’s had a lot of thoughts recently, he’s become paranoid to an extent and doesn’t know what to do or how to handle it, he wants to talk to his family about it but how do you even bring up that kind of topic?
He sighed and held his hair in a stressed matter, every thought bringing him even more upset. He cringed as he felt tears stream down his face. He just curled in on himself, unable to focus on the night sky like he used to.
He laid there for a while, that was until he heard the fluttering of wings and change in the wind. He didn’t dare move in case he’d hurt him. He felt a weight on his shoulder and moved over towards the crook of his neck.
The figure placed his hands on his neck and began to soothe it gently, a way of comfort. He carefully moved his arm to wipe at his eyes, not wanting his father to become soaked with tears.
“You alright, mate?”. He made a ‘nuh-uh’ noise. Phil sighed, “anything you wanna talk about? Anything I can do to help?”. There was a moment of silence between the two until Tommy couldn’t stand the tension. “Phil how can even stand to be around me?! All I do is hurt you and the others?!”. Phil was a bit shocked by the outburst, but not because of the volume because he was worried about what Tommy said.
“Mate…”, “Please just leave me alone…”. “Right! -“He stood up and grabbed Tommy’s cheek, causing Tommy to stare at him. “No more grouching! It’s not your fault! I get that you’re worried and you care about us mate, but accidents are going to happen when there’s a large difference in size.
it's inevitable. But we’ll help you work through it okay? We all care about you so much, Toms, please. I hate seeing you upset.”. Phil’s expression showed it all worry and sadness. It all in all made Tommy regret his outburst, he hated to worry the man with his problems.
“Phil- I-…”. He couldn’t even get the words out until, “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here”. He leaned his head towards Phil, to which he embraced it, using his wings to give him the biggest hug possible, the two sat there alone for a while.
Eventually, the two of them headed, back much to Tommy’s reluctance, he carried Phil in his hands and surprisingly, he did it without failure. And when he returned, he came back to find an entire family worried about him, even fucking Techno was worried
(he could tell by the boar pacing back and forth for them to get back). Phil explained what had happened and let’s just say, the family decided along the lines of ‘Alright! It’s cuddle time with Tom! Drop everything else! Focus on the boy!”.
And so, they all laid in their respective places, Phil and Techno on his shoulders, leaning into his warmth and Wilbur, Tubbo and Ranboo cradled to his chest. And from then on, they worked it out and now he rarely dropped his family.
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karajaynetoday · 3 years
Text
i'll be honest, it's better off this way | luke hemmings
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hello pals! long time no writing! i know it seems a bit weird to post a luke break up fic just after he got engaged but to be fair, I already had this in the works before the news broke yesterday, so soz not soz. It is kind of a happy break up story though... kind of? this one features lyrics from our song by niall and anne marie that are in italics throughout the piece (you know i love a song lyric incorporation lol) and i’m a bit rusty, so any feedback is welcome! a big shoutout to my dearest @notinthesameguey​ for beta-reading this one for me, you’re a gem blanca! enjoy xo
Word count: 2.3k
Warnings:  mentions of a break up and a car accident/hospitalisation (minor/non-graphic)
(This is a fem reader insert)
More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here
I'll be honest, I'm alright with me
Sunday mornings, in my own bedsheets
The break up with Luke had been easier than you’d first thought. It’d been months of growing apart, feeling like a stranger in your own home, before you finally worked up the nerve to utter those four words: We need to talk. He’d been spending most days and some nights in the studio, and you’d been working overtime at your job too; you were ships in the night who barely had time to say hello and goodbye, let alone have any sort of proper conversation. You’d spent an entire evening rehearsing a script in your head, and as soon as Luke walked through the door and greeted Petunia, you mustered the courage to stand up and speak your truth. 
It turned out that you weren’t alone in feeling stagnant in your relationship, and although you could feel your heart breaking as you said the words, Luke’s hand on your knee was all the gentle reassurance you needed. Just like always, even when your relationship was falling apart, Luke was there for you. And that’s what he promised, that night in the living room. It didn’t make sense for you two to become strangers overnight after 3 years together, but you also both knew that you needed space to grow and heal, and that space needed to happen sooner rather than later. 
You could tell that part of Luke wanted to fight it, wanted to raise his voice, wanted to convince you to stay. But part of Luke also knew that it was time to walk away, no matter how much his heart was feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest, because he did truly love you, and if he loved you, he’d let you go. 
Even though Luke insisted you could stay in the spare room for as long as you liked, it only took a week or so to find a new place. An apartment in KayKay’s building opened up for rent, and thanks to her help, you secured the lease and started moving in as soon as you could. Ashton accompanied you to Ikea and then helped with assembling a new bed and dining table for you, while KayKay helped unpack some of your boxes. You could tell that they were trying to be sensitive, but at the same time were desperate to know what went down in the break up, and after a few slices of pizza and half a bottle of wine, you felt the emotions rushing to the surface.
“It feels dumb to get upset, after all, I was the one who suggested we should break up.” You sniffled, smiling sadly as Ashton handed you a tissue.
“Just because it was something that needed to happen, doesn’t mean you can’t be sad about it. You two shared a lot in the time you were together, it’s only natural that it’s going to take you a while to untangle yourselves from one another and to get your head and heart back on the path that’s right for you.” KayKay spoke softly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.
You knew she was right, and the healing would come; it was all part of the rollercoaster of walking away from someone you thought was the love of your life, but had turned out not to be. Time to adjust and find some independence, and re-shape the life you found yourself in until it was the life you wanted. 
But every time I think that I can get you out my head, you never, ever let me forget
Once you’d completely moved out Luke’s house, your reasons to contact him became few and far between. A few occasional texts to advise that he’d let his family know about your split, and a link to a new cafe nearby that he thought was your kind of vibe (and it absolutely was). Everyone in your friendship group was trying their best to help you both cope, but it was hard to avoid the awkwardness that came with a break up of close friends.  
You felt like you were walking on eggshells for a while, so you started to say no to invitations out. You threw yourself into a new work project, and barely replied to any group chats. Whenever your friends called, you had the perfect script rehearsed, about how you were going to be up for promotion, and after the next month or so, you’d have plenty more time for catching up with everyone. You were fairly certain that no-one believed your story, but you were sticking to it nonetheless. You’d seen photos online of Luke out and about with various beautiful women amongst the partying crew, and even though you knew better than to torture yourself with doom-scrolling through the internet, you couldn’t help yourself. You had to keep reminding yourself that it was YOU that wanted the breakup, and that it was for the best. Or something like that.
It was coming to the end of your big project, and the entire office decided to head out for celebratory drinks. You only stayed for a couple, because after a month of overtime you were ready for bed. Your boss took you aside to assure you that the promotion was yours and the new contract would be on your desk on Monday, and as you reassured him you were excited to take on the role, a song playing over the bar’s speakers made you stop in your tracks. You’d spent many a Sunday morning dancing around the kitchen making pancakes with Luke and singing these words; something you’d completely forgotten until this moment. As you stepped outside to await your Uber, the first person you wanted to call with the news was Luke. Your fingers hovered over his name for a good few minutes before your Uber driver honked and broke you out of her trance, and you settled for texting the group chat instead to share your exciting update. Lots of confetti and heart eyes emojis started popping up alongside congratulatory messages, and you let out a giggle when you saw that Luke had sent a photo of Petunia with “congrats!” scrawled across it in purple font. It was the last thing you remembered, before the squealing of tyres and your vision going black. 
Just when I think you're gone, Hear our song on the radio
Just like that, takes me back, To the places we used to go
The rhythmic beeping of the hospital monitors was the first thing you noticed as you stirred awake. The second was a dull pain across your skull, and the third was that your arm was in a sling. Fourth was the large, warm hand that was holding your own and gently squeezing; without opening your eyes, you knew it was Luke’s. You felt too weak to say any words, so instead you tried your best to squeeze back as you slowly opened your eyes. You heard a sharp intake of breath, before Luke’s smiling face came into view.
“Hey there, sweetheart. How are you feeling?” Luke asked, reaching up to gently brush some hair out of your eyes.
“Like I was in a car accident.” You managed to croak out, shooting him a wry smile and earning a laugh in return.
“You are correct, you can pass go, and collect $200. A pretty gnarly accident, the car’s a write-off, but thankfully everyone’s injuries are relatively minor. Some dickhead ran a red light.” You could tell Luke was trying to remain calm, but under the surface he was pissed.
“Not ideal, but at least I get a few days off work.” You joked, grimacing as you tried to sit up. Luke stood and gently maneuvered your pillows to support your back and shoulders better, and you felt a zap of electricity as his hands brushed your arms in passing.
As Luke sat back in the chair next to the bed, you suddenly realised that it was just the two of you in the hospital room. 
“No offence, Hemmo, but what are you doing here? Considering we’re no longer significant others, and all…” You said awkwardly, looking down at your arm sling with sudden great interest.
“Very observant, dear. Glad to see the concussion hasn’t affected your short term memory, I was worried you’d forget me entirely. You did, however, forget to update your emergency contact details, so I guess I was first on the list for the hospital to call. Ash, KayKay and I have been taking shifts but they’re out getting food right now - “ The rest of Luke’s explanation was cut off by a gasp and a cheer at the door, signalling Ashton and KayKay’s return and subsequent delight at you being awake.
The days that followed were uncomfortable physically, but kind of heartwarming emotionally. You got home to your apartment thanks to KayKay’s assistance, and found that your friends had stocked your fridge and freezer full of ready-made meals and your favourite snacks. They’d also made a roster so not a day went by without someone popping in to check on you, although you noticed that Luke never came by. 
Your recovery was slow but steady, and soon enough the doctors gave you the all clear. At this point, it was nearly 6 months since you’d broken up with Luke, and you could feel your mindset shifting. He was no longer the first person you wanted to call with good or bad news, or the first memories that popped into your head when you needed cheering up. It almost felt like… relief? Because for the longest time, even though you knew the break up was for the best, detaching yourself from one another seemed almost in possible after so many years of so many memories. 
I've been waking up alone, I haven't thought of him for days
I'll be honest, It's better off this way
The tipping point came at Calum’s birthday party, a month or so later. Ashton had invited you out for coffee and nonchalantly mentioned that maybe, possibly, well actually extremely likely almost definitely Luke was bringing a date to the gathering at Cal’s house; a girl he’d been seeing for a month or so. Everyone wanted you to be comfortable, and everyone, Cal especially, wanted you to be there, but they also understood if you wanted to avoid any potential awkward encounters with Luke and his new love interest. You assured Ashton that it would be fine, that you honestly weren’t bothered, and laughed off his suggestion of setting you up with a super hot blind date to help level the playing field.
The night came along, and you found yourself stumbling along Calum’s front path in the dark as you tried not to drop the gift you’d bought for him (a new cookbook and a collection of various hot sauces).  “Bloody 5sos and the “no good party starts until 11pm rule”, you muttered to yourself as you almost tripped over again, and you heard an indignant shout that sounded very Ashton-like behind you.
“Oi! Don’t be mad at us, you know that rule has never let us down!” Ashton bellowed, as he came forward with his phone flashlight switched on, KayKay not too far behind him.
“Damn girl, you like fiiiiiine!” KayKay said, letting out a low whistle. You rolled your eyes, knowing she was exaggerating. Your outfit was essentially a denim skirt and a t-shirt - maybe you’d sexed it up a little bit with some thigh high boots, tousled hair and a red lip, but all’s fair in love and war, right?
The three of you made it inside, and a very tipsy Calum greeted you with open arms and a lot of excitement at your gift of hot sauce. It felt so nice to be back with all your friends at a house party, like the old days, and you found yourself stepping out onto the back patio for a moment of quiet reflection and to share some pats with Duke.
You’d exchanged a wave with Luke when you’d entered the house, but hadn’t quite worked up the confidence to go up and speak to him, especially when he had his new girl in close proximity. She looked really friendly, though, and you could tell from the spark in both of their eyes that their relationship was blossoming in the best possible way. Part of you thought you’d be upset about it, but all you truly felt was content. Content in your life as it was, surrounded by friends that loved you just as much as you loved them, and actually quite proud of how far you’d come over the past year. You’d learned to stand on your own two feet, and you’d grown into a much more settled, independent human as a result. 
You were lost in your train of thought when you heard the song change on the speakers inside. Duke’s ears perked up and he licked your hand attentively when you stopped patting him as the song registered - it was your song. Or at least, it used to be. You felt a smile creep onto your face when you remembered the Sunday mornings of pancakes and singalongs, and the smile grew wider when you saw Luke’s girlfriend dragging him onto the dancefloor, much to his (fake) protests. You made eye contact with your kind-hearted, softly-smiling, gentle-eyed ex-boyfriend, and for a split second you saw a flash of concern cross his face. In response, you raised your glass in a cheers and shot him a wink, which earned a smile and a small laugh from Luke before he turned his attention back to the beautiful girl in his arms. You took a sip, and smiled to yourself. It truly was better off this way. 
When I hear it, I just can't stop smiling, I remember you're gone
Baby, it's just a song on the radio, That we used to know
Taglist: If there’s a line through your name, I couldn’t tag you, so please message me to let me know your new URL or what the go is!   @suchalonelysunflower @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @loveroflrh @spicycal @notinthesameguey @metalandboybands @cheekysos @ashton-trash  @another-lonely-heart @queenalienscherrypie  @becihadshawn  @allthestarsandthemoon  @oyesmendes​ @andrianawinchester @333-xx  @findingliam-o @hoodhoran @rbforsmileycal @myloverboyash @myhappylittleyoutubee @saywhatnow07 @secretsicanthideanymore @ar1analara  @killmywildflower​
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sierraraeck · 3 years
Text
Happier
Spencer x Fem!Reader
Spencer x Luke
Masterlist
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Summary: Things have been slowly declining in you and Spencer’s relationship. Going out to a bar alone one night, you figure out why.
Category: Angst.
Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: This was inspired by the song “Happier” by Marshmellow and Bastille. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too.
In the cold light of day we’re a flame in the wind
Not the fire that we’ve begun
But we ran our course, we pretended we’re okay
‘Cause with all that has happened
I think that we both know the way that this story ends
You met Spencer at a bookstore. He was a regular, but it was the first time you actually interacted. He was carrying enough books to nearly block his vision, and when he no-so-gracefully plopped them down at the register in front of you, the whole pile came toppling down. You watched in amusement as he collected three of the books from the floor and placed them back down on the desk, now ready to check out.
“You know, we provide baskets at the front for this reason,” you smirked.
He barely glanced up at you, and shyly said, “Do you know how many germs are on those things?”
You laughed, “I’m not sure I’d like to know.”
He quickly raised his eyebrows at you. “I wish I didn’t.”
You checked out the rest of his books in silence, then wished him a good day on his way out.
The next week, he was back in, and grabbed the same outrageous amount of books, dropping them on his way to you.
“Back so soon?” you questioned, remembering who he was quite well.
“I needed some new reading material,” he shrugged. You cocked an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“The last thirteen books weren’t enough?”
“I finished them,” he nonchalantly stated.
“You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “Jeez. Is the only thing you do read all day?”
“No,” he innocently responded, “I only need a few minutes to read each. I’m actually an FBI agent.”
You stared at him blankly. That was not what you expected. “Wait, what? You’re an FBI agent, and you can read hundreds of pages in only minutes?”
He nodded as if there was nothing impressive about either of those. You were still shocked and mumbled, “Okay, wow.”
The third time he came in, you noticed that he was waiting until your register was free, so that you specifically could check him out. You had a bit more small talk, this time about some of the books he’d read. The fourth time he came in, you left some disinfectant wipes by the baskets, knowing that he really should use one, and wanted the germaphobe in him to feel comfortable taking one. He looked over at you and you smiled at him while he wiped down one of the baskets to use. It was that time while you were checking him out that he asked you on a date. You, of course, said yes. You wanted to know more about this mysterious, handsome man that worked for the FBI and could read an insane amount of books in only a short period of time.
Things were great at the beginning. You got to know each other, and the more you found out about him, the more and more you liked him. The two of you started spending almost all of your free time together, and you were considering asking about moving in together.
That is, until he started pulling away.
You weren’t sure what had gone wrong. Things were great, and then it seemed like one day he went to work interested in you and came home distant. Like his mind was elsewhere. You tried to ask him about it, but he deflected every time. He used to never like going out with his team, but he slowly started spending more time with them, and less time with you. You hinted at wanting to meet his team, and hoped that he’d introduce you to them soon, but with every passing day you grew more doubtful.
You’d been anticipating a break up for a while now, but you just didn’t think it’d be you who did it.
Spencer was out with his team again. He’d only briefly talked about them, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of his team members that was holding his attention. Maybe that JJ or Emily person, you thought.
You were tired of being left home alone, and were feeling even more down than usual, so you decided to go out by yourself. If Spencer wasn’t going to have fun with you, you could have fun with you.
You pushed open the door to the bar on the corner of the street, but stopped in your tracks when you saw Spencer, and the group of people around him you quickly put together was his team. You scooted out of the entryway, and just stood there watching them. You felt sort of creepy doing it, but it might’ve been the only time you could see Spencer when he wasn’t around you. Maybe it would tell you something.
What you saw felt like a spear to the chest. Spencer was smiling. He was laughing. God, you missed hearing that laugh, seeing that smile. It’d been so long since he’d done either, and that’s when you realized the full weight of how unhappy Spencer must be with you.
Sure, he’d been pulling away, but the process was so gradual that seeing the stark contrast of him with his team versus him with you was blinding. It was like the universe was throwing it in your face just to mock you. It was painful.
The thing that really got you, though, was the way he was looking at one of his teammates. It wasn’t one of the pretty blondes, or either of the jaw-dropping brunettes, but it was the dashing man next to him. You’d seen those eyes before, the ones Spencer was giving him. He looked at you that way once, but not at all recently.
You felt ashamed for it, but your initial reaction was resentment. You hated the very attractive man with deep brown eyes and a little scruff that you’d never met. He was the reason that your Spencer was drifting from you.
But that’s the thing. He wasn’t ‘your’ Spencer. He was just a cute, shy, germaphobic guy that you met at a bookstore. And based on the way that he was looking at his teammate, you wondered if maybe Spencer hadn’t been ‘yours’ for a while now.
Unbeknownst to you, you’d started tearing up, and only noticed it when some of the people around you started giving you strange looks. You furiously wiped at your face, and took a few deep breaths. At that moment, you decided to leave, to calm yourself down for the rest of the night and confront him about it tomorrow.
You were nearly out the door when you heard that oh-so-familiar voice call out, “Hey, Y/N!” You turned to see Spencer slightly jogging towards you, “What are you doing here?”
You experienced forever in a moment, hundreds of thoughts swarming your mind in an instant: I’m here because he never wants to spend time with me anymore and I was going to drown my feelings in alcohol; It doesn’t matter why I’m here because now I know what’s been going on between us; I can’t stay with him; but I love him; maybe we can make it work; he’s clearly unhappy with me and I’ve known it for a long time; the way he looks at his coworker is the way I want him to look at me; can I ever make him look at me like that again; what did I do wrong; this is that man’s fault; this is Spencer’s fault; this is my fault; maybe I’m just not good enough for him; why am I not good enough for him; god I think I might cry again; no I need to pull myself together, that’d be embarrassing; I wish I was good enough so I could see him smile and hear him laugh like that again; that man made him smile like that and laugh like that, something I haven’t been able to do in a long time; he doesn’t love me; he loves him; I love him; I want him to be happy, he deserves to be happy; I deserve to be happy; I want him to be happier than he is with me; I want him to be as happy as he is with that man all the time; I want that happiness to be with me, but it’s not; I want him to be happier.
We shouldn’t do this anymore.
It’s not that you couldn’t do it anymore, you wanted nothing more than to keep fighting for the two of you, but you had the astonishing thought that you just shouldn’t. I wouldn’t be fair for you to keep Spencer from the man he truly wanted, and it wasn’t fair to yourself to continue in this relationship.
In the blink of an eye, you heard yourself speak the words you never thought you would, words you couldn’t even believe you were saying out loud, right now, to the man you just realized you loved. “I’m breaking up with you.” You felt tears rising to the surface, but you swallowed them down. This is for the best.
Spencer looked beyond shocked, like he surly hadn’t heard you correctly. “What? Why?”
You gave him a sad smile, “Spence, this is the first time I’ve seen you happy, like really truly happy. And you know what? It’s not with me.”
This just confused him further. “I don’t…” he trailed off.
You gestured toward the strong-jawed man who was trying, and failing, to not-so-subtly look your guys’ way. “It’s with him.”
Spencer followed your gaze, and offered a small, confused laugh. “Who, Luke? No, we’re just-”
“I swear to god, if you finish that sentence with ‘just friends’ I will slap you across the face,” you cut him off. Spencer gave you a slightly startled look, so you lowered your voice to a more calming one. “Look, you should be with him, okay? You actually want to spend time with him and you’re smiling which I feel like I haven’t seen you do in months.”
Spencer was shaking his head. “Y/N, I can try harder, we can-”
You held up your hand to stop him. “I don’t want you to have to try. No one should have to try that hard to keep this going. It should be easy, effortless, which is what you’re getting from someone else. So no, we can’t and more than that, I don’t want to.” You felt almost as surprised as Spencer looked from your words. They were true, from the depths of your soul you felt how true your words were, and couldn’t believe that you were finally admitting that.
Spencer’s voice was small when he asked, “Why?”
You heard the double meaning behind the question, and answered with the first thing that came to mind. “Because I love you.” You realized it was the first, last, and only time you’d get to say that. “And that’s why I want you to be happy, even if it isn’t with me.”
Spencer was about to respond when a high pitched voice, sounding slightly drunk and a little bit annoyed, yelled across the room, “Yeah, new guy!” You saw the tall man approaching the two of you, and it all kinda clicked into place. New guy. So when it felt like one day Spencer woke up loving me, and came home distracted, that wasn’t too far off. He went to work that day, which was probably the same day that ‘new guy’ started working with him. It all started slowly making sense in your head.
‘New guy,’ Luke, walked up to the two of you, standing shoulder to shoulder with Spencer, and cautiously started, “Hey, what’s going on here?”
Looking at the man before you, you hated to admit it, but your anger diminished a little, and your jealousy grew. He was a very attractive man, full, strong build, piercing eyes, gentle face, and about the same height as Spencer.
You gave Spencer a pointed look about the proximity in which they were standing, especially when the other man’s shoulder brushed up against his. Spencer wasn’t a touchy person, but he actually seemed to relax in the other man’s presence. That spoke volumes.
You knew this Luke guy was also a profiler, so he could probably sense the tension, granted anyone probably could’ve. He quickly looked at Spencer before directing his attention back to you. “Can we help you with something?”
You wanted to scoff, or laugh, or vomit. Maybe all three at the same time. Can we help you with something? Clearly Spencer had never told any of them about you, and you couldn’t help but smile, with just a hint of bitterness, at his immediate use of ‘we.’ As if you were a threat that he needed to help Spencer defuse. But you also smiled because you were right. Again, it didn’t take a profiler to spot the very different tension between the two of them.
You shook your head, looking more at Spencer than at the other man, “No, I don’t think so. Not anymore.” There was no malice in your voice, only sadness, with just a dash of exhaustion. Who knew that pretending like your relationship wasn’t sinking took so much effort?
Spencer gave Luke a tight smile, “Just give us a minute?”
He wearily nodded, but backed away from the two of you. You sighed, “Look, he seems like a good guy and clearly already loves you in some capacity, and you know what?” You half-joked, “If he does something stupid you give me his number and I’ll give him a call.”
This earned a small laugh from Spencer, which made you want to both smile and cry. Of course, it was only after you’d broken up that you could get him to laugh. You settled for a small smile, and an immediate awkwardness settled over the two of you.
You made the first move, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. With a comforting hand on his shoulder, you looked into his sad eyes, and whispered, “Bye, Spencer.”
Those were the last words you exchanged, and you walked out of that bar without another look back.
You were letting him go.
You were setting him free.
Then only for a minute
I want to change my mind
‘Cause this just don’t feel right to me
I wanna raise your spirits
I want to see you smile but
Know that means I’ll have to leave
So I’ll go
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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years
Text
The Year of O.W.L.s
(Hufflepuff*)!Reader x Draco
Down there
I know there's tons of burdens I must bear
But from up here
The world looks so small
And suddenly life seems so clear
Fourth Year    The First Summer
Summary: The events of the first semester of your fifth year unfold at Hogwarts and more than your fair share of obstacles head your way. 
A/n: Hello my darlings! So this is from September to December 21st, or the end of the first term at Hogwarts. Don’t dismay at the short time span: This part is over 13k words. I’ve been trying to finish this chapter in lue of what’s happening to offer some escape, so the last bit (thousand words or so) isn’t fine tuned, but I doubt you’ll notice. I love you all so much. Please stay safe and stay creative and always keep fighting. (P.S. some of the canon of the book is changed obviously)
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Two people knew what I was doing in the beginning. Then four. Then those four and the rest of my teachers. Then the Head girl for Hufflepuff. The latter knew I would be silent for a month. It had started in the middle of July and would go to the middle of September. It was important that I didn’t say a word. There was something much greater at stake. Something that would take practice and a lot of patience. The latter didn’t know why.
The only one who didn’t know anything, the one that I was doing it for, was Draco. And those that did know, swore secrecy, so Draco would never know. Not unless I decided to tell him.
I barely avoided complete failure twice.
The first time, I almost slipped up the day I had gotten my prefect badge. In my excitement, I had forgotten the task at hand until my mother reminded me and I had to calm myself once more. It was great for my anxiety, this task I took on. It kept my thoughts occupied for the moment and something to focus on.
The second, was when I saw Draco at the train station. Under his father’s gaze, he said nothing to me, and hardly looked my way, confirming my suspicions about his summer silence. Yet, we were both prefects, and as such we were forced together in a small train compartment. Ernie Macmillan, the other Hufflepuff prefect, said hello. I smiled and nodded. Draco didn’t say anything as the Head boys and girls from the different houses took turns explaining what was expected of us all.
“Y/n,” Draco’s voice was quiet and soft as he lingered behind.
I paused, taking a deep breath in, remembering my trial. He couldn’t be the reason that I erred. I grit my teeth in hopes that it would help.
“You have every reason to be mad,” He began softly, his voice barely audible. “I was an arse, and I know it. But you have to understand—”
I raised an eyebrow at him. The first week he didn’t write back was crushing, the second week, I was furious, the third, I started my task. It gave me time to think, and to find my own reasons of why he treated me the way he did, and more time to choose to believe in the good ones.
“Will you say something!?” He demanded, stalking towards me.
And I started to. But, with my eyes squeezed shut, despair washing over me, I fled, back to the train compartment that held Abby and my other friends. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I watched the rain patter against the train window.
“You need to tell him Y/n,” Abby chided.
She wasn’t quite taken with my defense of Draco dropping off the face of the earth for the past month, but she stood by my side and somehow still supported my decision. Abby knew why I was silent; she was one of the first two to know.
I gave her an exasperated look and leaned my head back against the compartment wall with a soft thud, closing my eyes.
______________________________
Draco knew you’d be mad, but at least he thought you’d talk to him. More likely yell at him, but your silence was deafening. Then he found out from Pansy, that you weren’t talking to anyone. At all. In class, teachers never called on you, and you never said hello to anyone in the halls. You didn’t even speak to Abby. It wasn’t dismissive, just not natural.
He didn’t want you to have to vow silence because he broke your trust in him. He wanted you to be mad at him and that was all. He still wanted you to be you. He needed that, even if he had let you go to keep you safe.
“Answer me, you foolish girl,” The grating voice of Umbridge caught his attention.
He looked up and saw that you were staring at her in horror, refusing to speak. Umbridge was towering over you—barely as she had an inch on you—her wand shoved under your chin.
Abby quickly rushed over and Draco stood, spilling his bottle of ink over his transfiguration notes, taking a step toward you before remembering that you were mad at him and probably didn’t want him swooping in and playing hero.
“Ma’am, with all due respect, Y/n can’t talk, I’m sure you got her mother’s letter?” Abby defended.
“I don’t care what her mother says or what the Headmaster says. There is no excuse for her not to answer a simple question.” The witch in pink dismissed Abby and turned her beady glare back to you.
There were tears in your eyes, utter brokenness on your face. He knew that you would give in and speak out of pure fear, throwing away whatever you had been working toward, even if you wouldn’t tell him what it was.
And Merlin damn him if he was going to let that happen. You could be mad at him fine, but he wasn’t going to see you get hurt when he could do something.
“Is there a problem here Professor?” Draco walked up to you and Umbridge, taking a step between the two of you inconspicuously, allowing space for you. His heart leapt as he left your hand softly on his back, clinging to his robe.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Umbridge pressed her lips into a tight line. “I hope you are not preventing me from reprimanding a student.”
“He is not,” Another voice came floating down the hall. “But i am.”
Draco caught sight of stark blue eyes and a stern face and never in his life was he happier to see Professor McGonagall. Professor Sprout and Abby flanked her, all looking quite intimidating as they flowed down the hall.
“I wasn’t aware that you had jurisdiction over her, she is not of your house after all,” Umbridge seethed, taking a step away.
“She is of mine however,” Professor Sprout took a step forward, extending her hand to you. You quickly rushed over and cowered behind her. “And you will respect her wishes as well as the wishes of her mother and of the Headmaster,”
Umbridge, seeing that she was clearly cornered, tutted and turned dramatically, her heels clicking down the hall as she receded.
“Are you alright my child?” Sprout asked you softly.
A gentle nod came from you.
“She didn’t jeopardize it, did she?” McGonagall asked.
You shook your head. Your hand rose to your mouth, three fingers touched your lips and then you extended your arm down. It was an odd gesture he thought.
“You’re quite welcome,” McGonagall smiled. “Come to me when the week is done,”
You nodded again and Abby grabbed your arm, ushering you out of the study room and down the hall. He stared, not sure what he just witnessed. McGonagall caught his stare and raised an eyebrow at him.
“She will tell you when she is ready,” Was all she said then turned to leave, Sprout next to her.
Draco stood there, dumbfounded, before heading back to his seat and trying to salvage his notes what had a pool of black ink in the middle of them. He stole glances at you, and he could see again, you were using your hands in weird motions, and Abby was responding. Not a word left you lips but still you two were in an argument.
He caught your gaze from across the room, and you looked at him. Sadness filled your eyes and your fist came to your chest and made a circular motion before you turned back to Abby.
It was a few days later when he saw you again. It happened at dinner in the Great Hall with his friends, a commonality for the Slytherin house to eat together by year level.
“So how was your summer?” Draco asked Pansy offhandedly.
“You know, travelling in Paris again.” She sighed, getting a mischievous glint in her eyes. “What about you lover boy?”
“Lover boy?” Crabbe snickered. “You got yourself someone to fancy Malfoy?”
Draco scoffed and fought the urge to snap and defend you blatantly. He had to do this right.
 “It was nothing major,” Draco played coy.
“We know you Draco, tell me how far did you get with her?” Goyle grinned, nudging his side. 
“Honestly, show some decorum you two,” Draco muttered. “It wasn’t like that,” He scoffed. 
“So, she put up a fight then?” Pansy smirked at him.
“No, of course not.” Draco folded his arms. “Seriously, get your heads out of the gutters you three.” Then he grinned mischievously, stealing a glance your way. “But she was good, if you know what I mean,”
Everyone listening into their conversation started cheering him on and he gave a bemused smirk, satisfied.
“Weren’t your parents away all month too?” Pansy drawled, catching his game. Draco gave a small nod and a wicked grin, laughing when Crabbe and Goyle nearly lost it. 
“So, what happened?”
“Well, the summer ended.” Draco shrugged nonchalantly. “I told her we could still be friends,”
His eyes met yours from across the hall. There was a deep blush on your cheeks and almost a sheepish smile as you looked at him. He noticed that you were talking again, and he was quite relieved that you were getting back to normal, and maybe you didn’t hate him completely.
__________________________________
Meanwhile...
“You’re talking!” Abby exclaimed. “Is it done?” Her tone lowered.
“For now,” I smiled, sitting at the Hufflepuff table in the great hall, still signing the words.
“So, what did you do this summer?” Ernie, my fellow prefect, asked, sitting with us as well as a few other Hufflepuffs. “Now that you’re talking again,”
“Well, my summer couldn’t have been as interesting as Y/n’s,” Abby grinned evilly. “She got herself a summer love,”
My face went red as everyone looked to me. Ernie was skeptical, but the other girls—Hannah, Janis, Taylor, and Emme—we’re all hopeful.
“Well... he was sweet,” I stammered, my eyes darting to Draco sitting across the Hall. “It all happened so fast,” I signed a word here and there before pressing my hands into my lap.
“We need details! Y/n!” Emme squealed, grinning. “Was it love at first sight?” 
Abby and I both laughed as I shook my head.
“Goodness no,” I chuckled. “I don’t know what to say. We spent the afternoons together for a month at his place. I read to him and he showed me the grounds... and well,”
“How much did he spend on you?” Hannah piped up, looking awestruck.
“Nothing,” I insisted, smiling to myself. “He was charming. Very different from what I expected, but sweet,”
“Look, she’s blushing,” Emme teased. “Awe, you really like him,” 
“So, what happened?” Ernie asked, slightly more invested.
“Well,” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. “It ended, I guess. School started and...” I shrugged softly, my eyes landing on familiar blue ones.
“Does he go here?” Hannah wondered aloud.
My eyes snapped up, wide in panic.
“No!” Abby and I both said together then started to giggle.
“We’re going to figure out who it is,” Emme threatened. “Might as well tell us now,” 
“I bet it’s Malfoy,” Ernie muttered under his breath.
I looked at him, my cheeks turning a darker red, biting my lip.
“No!” They all gasped as if it were a scandal.
“He’s actually really sweet guys,” I argued softly. “You saw him last year, at the Year End Feast...” I muttered sheepishly.
“But he’s a Slytherin!” Hannah was aghast.
“Not over the summer! I don’t know, Houses didn’t really interfere... we just were,” I leaned my elbows on the table.
“Awe, I want one,” Emme sighed wistfully.
The table broke out into laughter as the conversation shifted, my eyes stealing glances to the Slytherin table more than once.
.......................................
The Night You Started Talking Again....
Professor McGonagall with the aid of Professor Sprout both aided me that night of the full moon. They vowed to keep my phial safe until the next storm and I was grateful. It was hidden in a cabinet in the forbidden part of the greenhouses.
It took a week for the next storm to roll through. Glad to be rid of my morning and evening daily incantation, I rushed down to the Greenhouses where Sprout and McGonagall waited.
“My child, you must do this part alone I am afraid,” Sprout placed a hand on my shoulder. “Remember, do not be afraid and remember the reason you do this. We will be right here when you return,”
I nodded and hugged her and McGonagall before finding a blood red potion in my phial as I hurried into the rain. I took out my wand and pressed it over where my heart was in my chest.
“Amato Animo Animato Animagus” I whispered.
Downing the potion, I felt a liquid fire in my veins as I cried out. I knew what to expect, I just never thought that it would cause this much agony. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, but it was off. There were four beats and the sound of rustling wings.
Before me, preening itself in the grass was a white barn owl, staring at me curiously.
“You must show no fear. It is too late now, to escape the change you have willed” The owl spoke.
“I am not afraid,” I gasped out.
My senses became sharpened and the rain that chilled my skin bounced off of white and bronze feathers. Disoriented, I stretched my arms—wings out and gave one gentle flap and soon I was off the ground, flying through the rain.
I let out a yell of victory, but all that came was a screech. I could see and hear everything around me. The patter of the mice in the fields below, the voices coming from the school, the thunder that rumbled in the distance.
It took a few tries, but I eventually ended up at the Hufflepuff tower, chirping at my window. Well, I was really calling for Abby, but it came out as chirps. The window opened and I fluttered in, knocking over s few things on my desk in my landing.
“Merlin, it’s you isn’t it?” Abby realized, grinning. “An owl!? Oh, my stars, Y/n!” I chirped excitedly, preening a few feathers, it had the same feeling as brushing my hair. “You have to tell him,” Abby sat at my desk. “He’s going to love this,”
I narrowed my eyes at her. I couldn’t tell Draco. Not yet. I had to get better at it. I had to practice. Then I could tell him.
“Well, go on, I need Y/n back, we have homework,” Abby shooed me out the window and I chirped at her, flying back to where I hid my wand.
The shift back took away the warmth and waterproofing of my Animagus, so I was soaked to the bone when I came back to Sprout and McGonagall. They looked to me expectantly.
“It worked,” I grinned, pushing my hair out of my face. “Thank you,”
“Well?” They both pressed.
“An owl,” I beamed. “I can fly,” It was euphoric.
“An owl,” Professor Sprout was delighted. “Oh, you’ve done very well my dear.”
“Very well indeed.” McGonagall smiled. “Now, off to bed. It’s almost curfew.”
I bid them both a goodnight and headed up to my dorm, where Abby and I freaked out a bit then settled down to work through homework. I sent a letter to my mother right away letting her know what happened. I debated on sending one to Draco, but hesitated. I’d rather tell him in person, or at least show him. But that would have to wait.
It took about two weeks of constant practice in the tree under the lake in the dead of night for me to get the transition smooth enough that I no longer needed the incantation before morphing.
As I was transformed into my owl, of which Abby named Pinnae, a familiar blond-haired boy made the trek down to the tree I was perched in. I watched as Draco sighed and sat down under the tree, a foot away from my wand. I rustled my feathers in dismay, flapping them anxiously.
Draco didn’t notice my semi frantic state. He just stared onto the moonlit lake. I knew that I couldn’t abandon my wand, but I also knew that I couldn’t just randomly show up where Draco was. Preening a few feathers, I nestled onto the branch and decided to wait him out.
“Where did I go wrong,” He asked the water lapping at the bank. “I thought I was protecting her...”
I tilted my head, fluttering to a lower branch.
“It was stupid to even think. Of course, she would hate me. Of course, she would leave,” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe my father was right,”
I chirped, outraged. It still didn’t catch his attention. How was he supposed to be the Slytherin Seeker if he was missing the obvious? He leaned back, his fingers brushing the tips of my wand, and he finally noticed. Taking it into his hold, he inspected it.
“Y/n?” He whispered softly. “Y/n!?” He rose immediately, looking around frantically. “Y/n!? Where are you!?” Taking out his own wand he called a Wand-Lighting Charm.
I squinted at the bright light and moved a few branched away from it.
“No, no, no.” He paced. “No! This... I did everything right! I left her so she would be safe! She has to be safe!” Despair was written across his face.
My heart soared at his words, knowing I had been right all along, as I glided to the ground, behind the tree out of Draco’s view, morphing out of Pinnae. Steadying myself on the tree, I rounded it, grabbing Draco’s hand, pulling him close and not letting him get a word in as I pressed my lips to his.
He pushed me away gently, looking me over frantically. 
“Y/n?” He gasped.
I rolled my eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck pulling him back into a kiss. As my fingers ran through the ends of his hair, he seemed to relax, wrapping his arms around my back, clutching me to his chest as he pressed his lips to mine harshly.
It was a violent kiss that relieved the past months frustration and anger and sadness, until there was nothing left but affection and need. His breath was hot on mine as his tongue slipped past my lips, making me weak at my knees. My fingers knotted themselves in his hair as he slowly backed me into the tree. Soft sounds escaped my lips and were met with low one from his.
His lips migrated from my lips to my jaw and down my neck.
“Draco,” I panted out. He hummed into my skin, not stopping. “Draco,” I chided a bit more harshly.
He pulled up, cupping my face.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” His voice was desperate and commanding. “I thought... Merlin I thought they got you Y/n,”
I pulled him into a tight hug, burying my face in his shoulder. His arms coiled around me as he pressed me close. Tears slipped from my eyes as I inhaled deeply, not comprehending how much I really missed him. I was so focused on becoming an Animagus, that the sorrow and pain of his absence had no time to register until that moment.
“Please forgive me, Y/n,” He begged. “I thought I was keeping you safe. I did it to keep you safe,” His voice was shaky as he pleaded to me.
“I’m here,” I consoled, petting his hair softly. “I’m right here Draco,”
“I had to keep you safe from him. From them. It’s all coming Y/n,” He cried into my shoulder. “It’s coming and I can’t stop it,”
“It’s okay,” I whispered. “It’s okay Draco,” 
“How is any of this okay?” He asked miserably,
“Because you’ve got me, and I’ve got you,” I pulled away softly and stroked his cheek softly. “Yeah?”
He nodded.
“I still don’t know how to keep you safe,” He mumbled hopelessly. “Because I can’t keep ignoring you like this. It’s driving me mad.”
“Draco, honey, for someone as smart as you, you are incredibly dense,” I laughed softly. 
“What?” He backtracked. “Why?”
“Just... don’t freak out?” I slowly let him go, taking a few steps back. 
“Why?” He was growing more concerned. “Y/n? What did you do?”
I closed my eyes and pictured Pinnae in my mind, letting my heart beat with hers as I felt myself morph into my Animagus. Fluttering my wings, I looked up at him and chirped.
___________________________
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Draco gaped at you—well, the small white and bronze barn owl that was in your place. “That’s why you didn’t speak for a month! I thought you were mad at me!”
The owl—you chittered at him and fluttered up to his shoulder where you pecked softly at his ear. Uncertain, he reached up and stroked the feathers upon your head. You nuzzled into his hand.
“You did this for me?” He whispered softly. 
You chirped and he took it as a yes.
He had to admit, it was brilliant. As an Animagus, you could be with him and easily hide when needed. And someone had to be on his side in the stars because your Animagus could also fly. He sat, carefully since you were still perched on his shoulder, under the tree, feeling quite different from when he had first gone out.
“Can I have my Y/n back please?” He asked the owl on his shoulder.
You hopped to the ground and he watched you morph back into a human, sitting beside him. He had never seen an Animagus so up close before. He finally noticed that since you had taken on the new form, your features shifted slightly. Your eyes were larger and more round, your pupils taking a darker hue, and your skin had lost some of its tan, favoring for a paler color.
You hugged your knees and watched the water of the lake, your face pensive. “I did apologize right?” He mused softly.
The smile he was looking for stretched across your face as your eyes landed on his. 
“Yes,” The word was warm. “I never lost faith in you Dray, and I missed you too,”
He smiled for the first time in two months and you rested your head on his shoulder watching the moonlight on the lake water. He knew it was getting late, but he didn’t want to lose this, and he didn’t want to lose you. It was mad torture taking himself away from you. It got to a point where Pansy started to ask him if he was okay. And right now, he was.
Sensing the late hour like him, you stood, offering your hand, and it was so familiar and comforting to him, this gesture. He followed you back to the castle, not protesting, as you crept down the hallways.
“Ms. Y/l/n,”
Draco stiffened and you froze beside him, closing your eyes and inhaling sharply.
Slowly you both turned, finding yourselves face to face with Dolores Umbridge in her awful pink robes, grinning wickedly. Draco took a small step in front of you protectively.
“I suppose you two have a reason for being out of bed at this hour?” She tutted, raising an eyebrow. “Miss Y/l/n, I believe I am speaking to you,”
You opened your mouth, and Draco could see that you were struggling to find the right words and not have a panic attack, which gave him an idea.
“It’s my fault Professor,” Draco spoke softly. “I made her come out. She has anxiety you see, and she’s supposed to get a potion from Madam Pomfrey, but she forgot tonight, and though she wanted to ignore it, I told her that it she shouldn’t and made her come with me to get it.”
“I see,” Umbridge narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “Well it is still past curfew, and students are not allowed out of the dormitories.”
“We’re prefects ma’am,” Draco smiled wickedly sweet. “We are allowed to patrol the school after hours to make sure no one else breaks curfew, and if you speak to my Head of House, I assure you it is my night to patrol,”
Umbridge tutted and spun on her heel, heading the way she came from. You sagged in relief beside him, rubbing your face.
“Are you alright?” He asked, worried.
A nod from you and his worry lessened. He paused, wanting to hug you, but not sure about the display of affection in public. So instead, he pulled you toward the hospital wing to actually get you a sleeping potion, and perhaps one for himself. You followed wordlessly.
You paused outside of your common room portrait, the small vial in your hands.
“You know I already have these in my room,” You muttered softly.
“I know,” He reached and tilted your chin up, your eyes meeting his.
There were a thousand things that he wanted to say to you but didn’t. There were so many questions to answer and things to figure out and tomorrow to face, and he didn’t know how to right then.
So, he leaned down and softly pressed his lips to your forehead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Your words from the summer were now a promise on his lips.
You smiled and nodded, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently before disappearing behind your common room portrait.
____________________________________
“You’re back early,” Abby commented.
“I was right,” I muttered softly, curling up in my bed. “All this time, I was right,”
“Right about what?’ Abby looked up from her (my) book.
“He did it to protect me. That’s why he stayed away,” The words were a soft relief on my lips.
“You told him! You talked to him! Y/n!” Abby grew very excited, tossing the book aside. “What happened!?”
“Well... I was Pinnae, and he came down to the tree, and well he freaked out when he saw my wand and not me, and then I transformed back, and we kissed, and then yell at each other a bit, and...” I smiled at the memory and shrugged.
“Does this mean I can talk to Pansy again?” Abby asked hopeful.
I laughed and threw a pillow at her.
“You can talk to whoever you want,” I pointed out. “It’s not my fault you’re a chicken,”
Abby’s face became very red as she scoffed, rolling her eyes.
“Wait, hang on, does this mean you two are together again?” Abby exclaimed.
“No? Yes? We were never together to begin with, and honestly, Draco’s right, this is dangerous.” My eyes looked out upon the stars hanging in the sky.
“You’re talking about You-Know-Who,” She realized softly.
I nodded and hugged a pillow. “I’m scared Abby. I don’t want to lose Draco over this. I’ve already lost too much,”
“You’re not going to,” Abby comforted. “Because you’re not alone, and you’re not the only one afraid,”
She looked around the room suspiciously and casted a few Silencing Charms, turning off the light before whispering to me:
“Harry Potter is teaching a Defense Against the Dark Arts class secretly here since that toad Umbridge wouldn’t know a Death Eater if it bit her on the nose,”
“What!?” I exclaimed to her shushing.
“We’re meeting in the Hog’s Head for a brief meeting and to see what’s going on,” She informed me.
“Who’s ‘we’?” I asked.
“Everyone who believes that You-Know-Who is back,”
 I nodded and hugged a pillow.
“You want to tell him, don’t you?” Abby chimed in.
“He would know more than anyone what we were up against,” I confessed into the darkness of the night. “I know I haven’t told you because I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, but... his father is working for You-Know-Who.”
“What!?” It was my turn to shush her.
“That’s why they’ve been gone so much, his parents I mean,” I looked over to her. “Please don’t take it the wrong way Abby. Draco isn’t a part of it.”
“But his father is!” She insisted.
I gave her a pleading look and she took a sharp breath in.
“Please Abby,” Tears pricked my eyes. “I can’t be alone. I need you with me,” 
She nodded and sighed, smiling at me, rolling her eyes.
“Anything else?” She mused.
“He... he knew something was going to happen, the night Cedric... he didn’t know what. It’s why he asked me to go with him. He wanted to protect me from whatever it was,” I explained, tensing for her backlash.
“He didn’t tell anyone!?” She hissed.
“What was he supposed to say? ‘Hey, my dad’s a Death Eater and he and his buddies are going to do something on the night of the third task, but I don’t know what or where, but hey good luck’?” I gestured, vaguely imitating Draco’s mannerisms.
“Okay, you have a point,”
“It’s bigger than all of us Abby. You heard the Sorting Hat, we have to stick together,”
“I hate it when you’re right,” She muttered, flopping back on her bed. “Of course, I’m with you Y/n. Through thick and thin. Always,”
“Thank you, Abby,” I took a deep breath and smiled at her, before nesting into my covers, the ghost of Draco’s arms holding me pulling me through the night as a filled vial sat on my desk.
Dawn filtered in through the windows and I heard Abby get up, dressing for Quidditch practice. I left her to it and rolled over, going back to sleep. Since I had taken on my Animagus it was hard to fight my nocturnal instincts. Abby came back in some hours later, opening the curtains in an attempt to wake me again as she headed to the showers.
Blinking and squinting at the light, I groaned in defeat, starting my morning routine. Dressed and presentable, my bag over my shoulder and robes in my arms, Abby and I made out way to breakfast then to Double Potions with Snape.
“Hey Feathers,” I heard a familiar voice as I walked down the hall.
Turning I saw Draco’s smiling face as he left his little posse and came up beside me. Abby lingered and walked beside Pansy just behind us. His hand found mine almost timidly as we walked along.
“Are you really gonna call me that?” I feigned dismay.
“To annoy you, probably,” He grinned.
“So, are we doing this?” I gestured to our hands. “Like, really doing this?” He faltered, his face clouding with fear and second thoughts.
“Do you not want to?” Hurt colored his voice.
“No, I do! I do,” I appeased with a smile. “I just... well, I don’t know, you don’t seem like the kinda guy to...” I trialed off and shrugged.
“The way I see it,” He started, gesturing with his free hand. “Is that I’ve gone nearly mad trying to stay away from you,” — “He has! It’s pathetic,” Pansy chimed in from behind us, — “And well, my father can’t exactly get to either of us as long as we’re here, so... if you want to...”
I tried not to laugh as he stammered through his words, looking quite lost. His air of confidence had fled him completely. I might have failed a bit at not laughing because he started to sulk.
“Draco,” I chuckled, catching up to him as he surged ahead of me. “Of course, I want to go out with you,” 
“Really?” He stopped short.
I rolled my eyes and nodded, taking his hand again. 
“Finally,” Pansy and Abby muttered from behind us.
All week eyes were on Draco and me. Some were glaring and muttering, others—mainly from Hufflepuff—were grinning. It left Draco and I both various shades of red through the days. Trying to find a quiet moment together was another matter. It always seemed as if Umbridge stalked wherever we were, like she had it out for me. And if it wasn’t Umbridge, Draco had Quidditch practice, or class, or we had prefect duty—never on the same night.
“We have got to find a way to sneak you into the Slytherin common room,” He huffed one night, sitting beside me at dinner.
Our friend group now had a weird mix of Slytherin and Hufflepuff: Vincent, Gregory, Pansy, and Blaise from Slytherin; Abby, Ernie, Emme, and Taylor from Hufflepuff. No one really snapped at another. It all seemed to be set aside for the sake of letting Draco and I spend some time together. I had a sneaking suspicion that Abby and Pansy had dealt a bit of threats in the beginning, but now it was almost unnaturally natural.
“Gee,” Abby drawled. “It’s too bad. You should send him owls instead,” Her flat look made me realize that Draco and I were quite stupid.
“Oh,” I giggled. “Yeah. I guess that would work,”
Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head in dismay. I cuddled his arm and went back to eat, the conversation shifting to the Hogsmeade trip coming up in a few days. I threw Abby a look, and she gave me one back.
Tell, she signed, pointing to Draco.
Know, I signed back. Tonight,
“What are you two doing?” Vincent asked Abby and me.
“Y/n and Abby learned sign language while Y/n couldn’t talk so they could still communicate,” Pansy rolled her eyes as if it were obvious.
I raised an eyebrow at Abby, wondering just how much time she had spent with Pansy.
Changed into pajamas, I reminded Abby to leave the window open as I transformed into Pinnae and flew into the cloudless night. I circled the castle a few times, more or less patrolling, before swooping down and landing onto the windowsill of a blond haired Slytherin.
“Hello there, Feathers,” Draco smiled, stroking the feathers on top of my head; I chirped and nipped playfully at his fingertips. “The room is empty and locked. You’re safe.”
I fluttered onto his bed and stretched my wings, transforming back into my human from, blinking away the disorienting feelings of my senses changing. His bed was made properly, something that mine never was. My bed had become more of a nest since my change and I didn’t really change it. I absentmindedly began to rearrange his pillows, nesting.
_______________________________
Smiling to himself, Draco stood, closing the window, leaning against a bedpost, watching you reposition his pillows leaving chaos in your wake.
“So, I’m assuming there’s something you need to tell me? That you and Abby were signing about today?” He mused, not without noticing that your wardrobe was similar to his own: an old t-shirt and house themed sweats.
“Yes, and I need you to not freak out,” Your voice was timid as you held a pillow in your lap.
“When have I ever—” A look from you and he decided to not finish that thought.
“Can you cast Silencing Charms, please?” Your eyes darted around the room.
“Why would I—”
“Draco,” You chided, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath.
It dawned on him that you were trying very hard to keep your anxiety under wraps, so he placed the charms without further protest and sat on the end of his bed, looking to you expectantly. A minute passed before you spoke. Your eyes didn’t leave the green duvet under your fingers.
“Harry Potter is going to teach a Defense Against the Dark Arts class secretly.” You paused, gauging his reaction but he gave nothing away. “There’s a recruitment meeting during the Hogsmeade trip. Abby’s going,”
A beat of silence.
“And you’re going,” He pieced together.
You confirmed with a small nod, still not looking up.
Draco stood and paced away from the bed, deep in thought. His mind recoiled around Harry Potter with a deep-seated hatred and betrayal. It was outrageous that Potter thought he could pull this off. But when he looked to you, the worried look on your face, it spun a new narrative.
Harry had gone against the Dark Lord last year and had a lot of experience—more than the rest—with dealing with dark magic. Though the papers spun ridiculous narratives about Harry and Dumbledore and denied the Dark Lord’s return, Draco knew better. He also knew that Umbridge’s lessons were to pacify the threat of an uprising at Hogwarts.
Then of course, there was you. His sweet, kind Y/n. The notion of you going against any Death Eater had him furious. Voldemort could take the world and he wouldn’t care, as long as you were safe. But he also knew the fire in you to do what was right. Not that it was a Hufflepuff thing. It was a you thing. Factoring in the death of your father and Cedric, he knew exactly why you wanted to do this. And to be honest, it made him feel better that you would train to be able to protect yourself of Merlin forbid, you do go against a Death Eater.
“Okay,” Draco nodded. 
“Okay?” You squeaked.
Coming to you and sitting beside you, gathering you into his arms he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He wasn’t nervous to be around you when you were alone with him. He had spent months overcoming that fear while wishing for you. It brought back the happy memories of the summer and all the days he never had with you to do this. His mother was never very affectionate and his father even less, so when you subtly approved of his attempt at physical affection with your own, a few more fears and hurts were left behind.
“Though I cannot stand Potter,” Draco gritted. “If anyone can teach you, it’s him. And I want you to be able to protect yourself,”
You looked up through your eyelashes at him, not smiling, but pensive again. 
“Why do you hate him so much?” The question was soft.
Draco inhaled sharply and your gaze fell.
“Or not, you don’t have to tell me,” It wasn’t guilt striking, but understanding.
“I grew up hearing of Harry Potter, as I’m sure you did,” You nodded, verifying. “And as a kid with...” He scowled, trying to find the right words. “I always thought that he’d be my best friend... and then he chose Weasley and that mud—” You hit his arm. “—Granger,” He amended, his father screaming blood traitor in his head. “Eleven years of waiting for someone to be cast aside,” Draco shook his head. “And now he gets every easy way out.”
“I can’t pretend to know how that feels,” You whispered softly, rubbing his arm, “But... you were sort of a prick back then. Not that I’m defending him!” You clarified quickly. “But...”
“But maybe I wasn’t worthy to be his friend,” He divulged softly. “Or anyone’s friend for that matter,”
“Well, you’re a pretty great friend now,” Your tone was warm as you smiled up at him. “Or at least you’re working on it,”
He rolled his eyes and playfully pushed you into the pillow mound you had made. A laugh escaped your lips as you whacked him with the pillow in your lap. He took the pillow from your hands easily, and you threw your hands up in surrender, giggled bubbling from your lips. Throwing the pillow onto your pile he laughed and tackled you, wrestling you until you were pinned beneath him.
Panting beneath him, you went doe eyed as you wiggled under his grip. Your tongue darted between your lips, taunting him to come and follow. So, he did.
His lips met yours as he leaned down. It was better than his memory served him. Soft, warm, and inviting. Your hands struggled against his, and he released them. Immediately they found their home in his damp hair. It drove him insane as you’d knot your fingers into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
Desire burned in his chest, knowing that you were his right now, willingly inviting him. Soft sounds left your mouth as his won the victory of dominance. He longed to kiss every inch of your skin, and now, the only thing that could stop him was you. And you weren’t raising a complaint.
His lips trailed your jaw as it did before, his ears drinking in your soft pants, your hands slipping down the collar of his shirt. Draco shed it without a second thought. Your eyes lingered on his form, your hands trailing down his chest, featherlight. It made him shudder.
“Y/n,” He warned softly, taking your hand, pressing kisses to every inch of your skin, trailing down your wrist.
“I know,” You murmured softly.
There was nothing more he wanted than to keep pushing his luck. He wanted to see how far you’d let him go, but a small voice in his head stopped him. He wanted to do this right and he knew that neither of you were ready.
Leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, he moved from his position on top of you to laying beside you. You turned your head and faced him, your hand trailing down his face, jaw, neck, and chest, leaving goosebumps in your wake.
“This is new, huh?” You pondered softly. “I’ve never...”
“Neither have I,” He clarified. “But I will do this right,” he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist. 
“Always the gentleman,”
Draco chuckled and pulled the covers over you and himself. You curled up on his chest without a second thought, your fingers tracing random patterns on his skin. His wand within reach, he undid the lock on the door and the charms, pulling two of the three curtains closed on his bed.
“Are you going to stay all night?” He asked softly.
Your eyes were closed, a soft smile on your face. They peeked open, however, at his question. 
“Do you want me to stay?”
It took everything in him not to snark at you. You settled back onto his chest, making the decision. You stretched out on his bed—and he was grateful that it was bigger than the hospital wing bed—as you intertwined your legs with him, yawning.
He reached into his bedside table drawer and handed you a recognizable vial. Draco may or may not have spent a few weeks perfecting the Sleeping Potion so that he’d always be able to have it on hand for you. His Anxiety and Thoughts Potions weren’t quite up to par however, so those would have to wait.
Watching you sleep in his arms he felt like he was in a different world. One where Dark Lords and Death Eaters didn’t loom over him. It was a safe haven. He could still scent the shampoo in your hair mixed with the woodsy air that had dried it as you flew over.
Maybe fairytales weren’t so stupid after all. 
_________________________________
I grumbled when my pillow started to move. Squinting into the morning, I saw Draco sitting up on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. It had to be early because dawn was barely peeking through the widows. Wordlessly, I reached out, my fingers barely brushing his warm skin. He jumped and turned. His panic settled when he caught sight of me.
“Morning,” He whispered softly. “Quidditch,” He answered the question written on my face.
I yawned and stretched, sitting up. It should have been a crime, being up this early for any reason on a Saturday.
“You need to get back before you get into trouble, Feathers,” He murmured softly, leaning over to press a kiss to my forehead.
“Don’t call me that,” I grumbled, staggering on my way to standing.
He laughed softly and ensnared me in his arms.
“Stay safe out there,” I murmured softly, my words slurring slightly. “The weather’s changing,”
“Have you ever morphed when you’re tired like this?” Concern was written in his features. “Or flown?”
I shook my head, leaning against him, the bed behind him looking more inviting by the second.
 “You’re not going to fly then,” He instructed. “It’s too dangerous,”
“M’fine,” I mumbled.
“Y/n,” He chided. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm then head to practice.”
“People will talk,” I laid my head on his shoulder knowing that the sleeping potion was not worn off completely as it tried to drag me back under.
“They always talk Y/n. My number one priority is keeping you safe,” He set me on the bed and walked to his armoire.
I laid back on his bed and closed my eyes, yawning. When I opened my eyes again, Draco was dressed in his Quidditch robes—looking rather handsome—his school robe hanging over his shoulder.
“Come on sunshine,” He chuckled, pulling me up. “We need to go before I’m late,”
“You look hot in your Quidditch robes,” I mumbled into his shoulder as I rested against him for support.
I left his laugh shake through his frame and Draco was laughing, shaking his head, still looking quite dashing.
“Merlin, you’re cute when you’re tired,” He draped his school robe around my shoulders as he led me quietly through the Slytherin common room.
“I’ll meet you later and we can head to Hogsmeade,” He promised softly, standing outside of my common room portrait.
I nodded and we parted ways. I stumbled up to my room, in an attempt to catch another hour or two of sleep that came quite easily. I didn’t curl under the covers, instead Draco’s school robes were large enough and comforting enough to draw me back to sleep.
I stood with Abby in line to get cleared by Filch on our way to Hogsmeade. The caretaker eyed my suspiciously and nodded, letting me through. Abby found Draco before I did, well, she found Pansy, that was. And Draco was beside Pansy.
“How was practice?” I asked, shifting my bag from one shoulder to the other. “Alright, how was sleeping?” He teased lightly, taking my hand.
“Yeah how was sleeping?” Abby asked pointedly. “I thought you said you’d only be gone for like an hour,”
“Well...” 
“We...” 
“I...” 
“Um...”
Abby and Pansy both burst out laughing. Draco and I turned red as we made our way to Hogsmeade. I could feel it in the air—maybe it was Pinnae—that the weather was changing. Fall was coming quickly, and the winter held something dangerous. The hair on my arms stood on end, ready for something that couldn’t be seen.
“Be safe,” Draco murmured softly as we paused at the break off in the road that lead towards the Hog Head—the meeting place.
I nodded and sighed softly, pressing up on my ties, leaving a kiss on his cheek before Abby and I headed down the trail together. I thought I caught the same gentle goodbye between Pansy and Abby, but I couldn’t be too sure. Ernie called out to us and we saw a small group of other students heading our way. Though they cast side glances at Draco and Pansy, they said nothing. As a pack we headed to the dodgy bar.
The Hog’s Head bar comprised one small, dingy, and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy, though as I stepped onto it, I realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.
It made my skin crawl and my senses tell me to run and leave the place as soon as possible. I gritted my teeth and clung to the strap of my bag.
The lot of us—Ron, Hermione, and Harry, Fred and George Weasley, Neville with Dean and Lavender, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cho and one of her friends, sweet Luna Lovegood; then five more clad in Gryffindor colors that I didn’t quite know the names of; Ernie, Justin, Hannah, along with Abby and I; three Ravenclaw’s I didn’t know either; Ginny Weasley, followed by Zachariah of the our Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear—all sat around a dingy table and one of the twins (Fred I think) ordered butterbeers for the lot. I politely declined mine knowing it would only make me more anxious to have caffeine.
I listened to Hermione as she explained the reasoning for starting this group and nodded silently in agreement. Then Zachariah—in his normal stuck up fashion that I loathed—protested against Voldemort being back and an argument broke out. I clenched my fists and Abby’s hand covered mine, in comfort or as a reminder to not lash out.
“—I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn’t believe him, you don’t believe me, and I’m not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.” Harry snapped.
I flinched when Zach said Cedric’s name in an argument against Harry, gritting my teeth and soon Abby really would have to stop me from lash out against him.
“I believe him,” I snapped at Zach, sneering. “So, get off your high horse Zach or leave,”
Everyone stared at me, most looking impressed. Zach grumbled something that sounded like “Slytherin lover,” but I ignored it and the focus shifted back to Harry, who stammered out a thanks and continued.
“Is it true,” Abby interrupted Harry as he fumbled for words, “that you can produce a Patronus?” 
There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.
“Yeah,” said Harry slightly defensively.
“A corporeal Patronus?” Abby pressed.
“Er — you don’t know Madam Bones, do you?” he asked.
Abby smiled. “She’s my auntie,” she said. “I’m Abby Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
There were many exchanges of surprise and all around the group was impressed. I knew that Harry would be a good teacher because creating a corporeal Patronus was no easy feat. I remember my mother telling me that one day I would find my own and it would watch over me as my father did.
When I tuned back into the conversation, Fred and George were threatening Zach again. I threw a glare his way and again he backed down. Soon it was discussed on what night and the topic of Quidditch practice circled around—of course when we met would have to coincide with those. Then there was the matter of the actual Defense Against the Dark Arts class and Umbridge.
“We think the reason Umbridge doesn’t want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione, “is that she’s got some . . . some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he’d mobilize us against the Ministry.”
The words struck familiar because Draco said something similar the night before about an uprising, it was true in a sense. The lot of us were going to rise against the evils of the wizarding world, whether they were a part of the Ministry or Death Eaters.
The conversation shifted again, and Hermione began to pass around a paper to sign, promising we wouldn’t tell anyone about what was going on. I let myself slip to the back of the crowd as others signed, knowing that I couldn’t. My hands started to shake softly as I was trapped between a rock and a hard place. I knew I couldn’t keep this from Draco.
As people began to leave after signing, Hermione, Ron, Harry, Abby and I were the only ones left. Anxiety gripped my chest as my palms became clammy and my breathing hitched. It was ridiculous to get a panic attack about this, but I knew I couldn’t sign that paper.
Hermione caught my eye and something odd passed between us. Maybe she saw the fear in my eyes or Abby’s glare. Maybe she knew that I was with Draco. Maybe she was judging me because she knew that the reason, I didn’t want to sign was because of him.
“Ron, Harry, go on ahead. I need to talk with Y/n,” Hermione said with no room for argument.
“Make sure she signs, I don’t want her blathering to Malfoy,” Harry glared me down. “I don’t know if I even want her here,”
I clenched my fists and shook slightly, a thousand replies at my lips. None of them were nice, so I held them in my mouth, not to be let loose. Abby was ready to fight but with a seldom shake of my head she stormed out of the bar.
“Go,” Hermione snapped. “And stop being such a git,”
Harry grumbled and sulked out of the bar—an action that was almost reminiscent of something that Draco would do.
“Hermione,” I began.
“I know,” She stopped me. “But you have to understand how vital this is,”
“I know that,” I breathed out. “Please Hermione, you have to trust me, and I know I really shouldn’t ask this, but trust him too?” I pursed my lips trying to find the right argument. “He said if anyone could teach me how to defend myself, Harry could,”
“He said that?” Hermione gasped, whatever argument she had lined up fell. I nodded and pressed on.
“I know he’s not your favorite person. It took us almost two years to get where we are now, and even then...” I shook my head and shrugged. “They deserve a chance too Hermione. And we both know a Slytherin can’t just walk into one of these meetings without...”
“Without being accused of sabotage,” Hermione supplied, and I bobbed my head. “Alright,” She sighed. “You don’t have to sign the paper, but I need to know what you tell Draco. Every word.”
I sagged in relief, rubbing my face. A thanks left my lips as my chest slowly unwound itself from the knot of agitation.
“You think there’s a chance?” Her question was soft and quiet. “For any of them to...”
“I didn’t before, but now... now there just might be,” I replied as we both exited the Hog’s Head.
Draco met me in the same spot where we parted ways, but he had a few bags from around the village in his hands. He gave me a questioning look, and his eyes flitted to Hermione beside me.
“Hermione,” He greeted politely.
A smile touched my lips as I took his hand.
“Draco,” She stammered before hurrying off to where Harry and Ron were waiting. 
“How’d it go?” He asked, taking me through the small village.
“Pretty okay,” I smiled. “I’ll tell you about it later,”
He nodded and the topic slipped form conversation completely as he went more in depth to how Quidditch practice went at my request. I stopped into a few shops—Honeyduke’s to restock my sweets stash, taking care into what I purchased, then to Scrivenshaft’s for a few new quills and ink. Now that OWLs were coming up, I took greater care into rewriting my notes and drawing diagrams and I needed finer tipped quills and more No-Run No-Mess ink.
Draco hovered or stood close by all the while. We didn’t speak much of anything other than light conversation. I learned a lot about him in those hours: like I missed his birthday this year even though we were “together” more or less. It was a few days before the third task, and he didn’t think to mention it. I rolled my eyes and vowed that next year we would do something. He pointed out that he also missed mine and he talked to me the day of—February 23rd, the day before the second task.
“Well, then obviously you owe me,” I grinned.
“Don’t you owe me then?” He mused, raising an eyebrow.
“I dunno, you don’t seem to be holding it against me,” I smirked, swinging his hand playfully as we walked along.
“There are a lot of things I’d like to hold you against,” He purred softly in my ear making me flush bright red.
He laughed victoriously and I huffed, taking my hand from his and folding my arms defiantly— all of my shopping bags were in his other hand at his insisting. He caught my waist still laughing.
“You’re really going to pout about that?” He snickered.
Rolling my eyes, I let him off easier than I probably should have and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon together: meeting Abby and Pansy for lunch then heading back to the castle to spend the clear skied day out in the sun under what seemed to be our tree now.
After dinner I was exhausted and dragging my feet. Draco took notice and ordered me to bed. 
“We have to talk about today,” I protested. “Don’t you want to know?”
“I do,” He confirmed and placed his hands on my shoulders. “But I stand by what I said this morning, I don’t want you flying when you’re tired. It’s too dangerous for you.” My face must have given away my annoyance. “Not that I don’t believe in your ability and I love that you did it for me, but there’s no need to get into any unnecessary danger, yes?”
I sighed and nodded.
“Now off to bed with you,” A smile returned to his face. “Go read some of your book and go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow,”
It touched me how well he knew my nightly routine. It was the small and soft moments that reaffirmed that he could change and care about someone other than himself.
“Goodnight Draco,” I whispered softly.
“Goodnight Feathers,” He grinned softly and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. 
_________________________________
It wasn’t until Monday night that you finally explained what happened at the meeting at the Hog’s Head. You told him of the deal you made with Hermione as well and he agreed. He wanted to gain trust and he knew he had to start small—he learned that from you.
Draco also may or may not have completely flipped out when he heard of Potter’s owl being attacked. He was very close to banning you from flying but refrained. You weren’t exactly his to control, and he already told you that you weren’t allowed to fly when you were tired. He didn’t want to overdo it and lose you. You weren’t one to be reined in and trapped.
He anxiously awaited your return Wednesday night when you told him there was a meeting. He had Quidditch practice that night. He spent the entire time worrying about you and almost got a Bludger to the face a few times. Pansy told him to shape up and focus or she’d ground him. So, he shoved you out of his head and played better.
It was nine thirty before he got an owl from you—not you as an owl. You promised you wouldn’t fly for a few days after seeing his distress.
~
Dray,
I’m back safely. Stop pacing the common room and go to bed. There wasn’t any trouble. Abby and I studied disarming spells tonight. It was sort of fun despite the looming OWLs coming.
I’m sending a copy of this to Hermione as well, she agreed to help me study and wants updates to what I’ve accomplished.
Goodnight,
Feathers
~
Draco smiled at how cunning you were disguising the events of your night in a letter. He knew that if it had been intercepted at all, no one could track you down for doing anything against Umbridge’s ridiculous rules.
You had meetings almost once a week, and always when he had Quidditch practice it turned out. Draco knew it was smart to have the D.A. meetings when the Slytherins were at the pitch, but it
wasn’t very good for his skills. He was panicky and not as focused as he should have been. But a comfort to him, you sent a letter every night afterward in the same cryptic remarks that you had done the first time.
“The meetings are stopping for a while,” You informed him, perched on his windowsill—that nearly gave him a heart attack, but you looked well at home—as he walked in after Quidditch practice.
“Oh?” He asked, starting to take off his gear.
You smiled and hopped down, closing the window behind you.
“Angela is going crazy with Quidditch practice... some big match coming up against a certain team...” You feigned ignorance as you sat on his bed, leaning against a post.
“Yeah?” He smirked. “She worried then,” That was a vote of confidence.
“Well I would be,” You purred. “Seeing how incredibly tantalizing the opponents look. It’s quite distracting I must say, having to look at your face and focus.” A grin stretched across your face.
He rolled his eyes at your antics but couldn’t stop the ego boost you had given him, nor the blush that rose in his cheeks as he shed the rest of his robes and heading to the showers, not without pressing a kiss to your lips first.
The week prior to the match, tensions were high between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Draco unbeknownst to you, gave in a time or two, mocking Weasley when he could. In his defense, the youngest Weasley was an awful player—too anxious to stay on form. Sort of what he imagined if you wanted to play Quidditch. The thought stopped him in his tracks and maybe he wasn’t so patronizing to Ron any longer.
Along with the match, snow settled onto Hogwarts, forcing him to pull out his winter gear earlier than usual. He remembered you mentioned something about the weather off hand on your trip to Hogsmeade. He also almost had a heart attack when he saw you walking down the halls without a sweater or scarf when the rest of the student body was shying away from the cold weather.
“You’re going to give yourself away Feathers,” He hissed, quickly wrapping his scarf around you. “I know you might not be cold because of Pinnae, but Y/n,”
“Sorry,” You rushed out, readjusting his scarf so it hung correctly. “I didn’t think, and I was late this morning...”
Draco sighed and pulled you under his arm and walked you to your next class as you’d been accustomed to. He never did get that scarf back.
The morning of the match he caught sight of you in the Great Hall at breakfast—in a Slytherin robe and scarf. His heart skipped a beat before he recovered. He really needed to remember to get his stuff back from you. He soon decided that it didn’t matter when you lit up upon seeing him and waved. Your friend group was dressed in various shades of green—Abby also had a green and silver scarf on that he knew belonged to Pansy.
“You’re coming then?” He asked.
“I thought I’d try. And I asked Madam Pomfrey for extra Anxiety Potion. I really should just take it every morning but...” You shrugged and he could see the distress in your features still.
“Win or lose, I’m glad you’ll be there,” He pressed a kiss to your temple, wrapping and arm around your waist and pulling you close.
Up in the air, he spotted you in the crowd of students below him. You waved happily and gave him a thumbs up letting him know that you were alright. He nodded and kept his eyes out for the snitch. He watched as Harry bolted down and chased after him.
The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Draco. Harry must have pulled his Firebolt around, because he and Potter were now neck and neck...
Feet from the ground, Draco lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching toward the Snitch... to his right, Potter’s arm extended too, reaching...
It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds —Harry’s fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball—Draco’s fingers scathed the back of Harry’s hand hopelessly—Harry pulled his broom upward, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval.
Draco let out an aggravated scream and surged up to the sky barely noticing that Harry had been pelted with a Bludger. That made him feel slightly better.
Panting and still irritated, you appeared right beside him after pushing through the crowd under the stands.
“Are you okay?” Your voice was soft.
“Ask Potter,” He snapped, regretting it when your eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Sorry,” He mumbled miserably.
The Gryffindor team was hugging and cheering Harry on as the golden boy’s eyes landed on you, something in his eyes that he didn’t quite like.
“What’s that about?” He seethed.
“Nothing,” You answered a bit quickly. “Just Harry being Harry,” It sounded worn on your lips, like you had to keep reminding yourself of it.
“He’s been putting you through hell because of me, hasn’t he?” Draco demanded and you shrunk back, nodding to the ground. “Potter!” He roared, making his way toward Potter.
“Draco!” You ran after him, but he paid you no mind.
Harry could hate him all he wanted. Fine. Whatever. But he crossed the line when he started to take it out on you.
His Quidditch team quickly flanked him, Pansy on his right, as he faced down Potter and his team. Anger surged through his blood as he glowered at green eyes.
“Sore loser Malfoy?” Harry mocked, the Gryffindor laughing around him.
“This isn’t about Quidditch.” Draco spat. “You leave Y/n alone or you have something worse than a Bludger coming to you!”
“She is more than capable to protect herself,” Harry smirked. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that would you?” A few Gryffindors—he suspected the ones in DA—snickered.
Draco growled as Harry used his outcast status against him. Harry knew he wasn’t allowed to the DA meetings and pressed his advantage. What enraged him more was that it was a few hours a week that Harry had alone with you where Draco couldn’t protect you. In that moment, Draco became aware that he never wanted to be friends with someone like Harry.
“Draco,” Your voice was a soft beacon. “Please, it’s not worth it,” The brokenness in your voice shattered him.
Draco looked down and saw that your hand was on his shoulder, gently pulling him back, your eyes not meeting his. Draco’s eyes flashed up and met Pansy’s and Abby’s. There was one thing that Slytherins and Hufflepuffs had in common: loyalty.
“Hey Potter!” Pansy called. “It’s really bold of you to take all your anger out on Y/n because you can’t get ahead of Draco. Pathetic behavior,” Her words were sharp and calculated, and a grin curled across Draco’s face.
“It’s just as pathetic for you to hide behind a little Hufflepuff.” Harry spat. “You don’t fool me for a second Malfoy. You’ll always be just like your father,”
It was like a slap to the face.
“You wanna start talking about fathers, Potter?” Your voice was seething behind him as you emerged from behind him. “You know everyone looks up to you, and everything you’ve done, and maybe I did too, but now...” You shook your head, your face ridden with disgust. “Come on Dray, let’s go.”
And he did. He turned and started to walk away. 
Until Harry yanked back the wrong Slytherin robe.
You were on the ground—looking quite shocked, fear and tears in your eyes as you met his. 
Harry was dumbfounded.
Draco lunged.
_________________________________
When Harry was hit with a Stunning Spell and fell away from Draco in a fight that I couldn’t stomach to watch, I knelt beside Draco, who held his bleeding nose. Someone tried to come near the two of us, but I growled, a low throated sound I wasn’t aware I was capable of, and whoever it was backed off.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my hands brushing through his hair, allowing me to see more of his face.
“No,” He grunted, sitting up. “It’s fine, I can fix it.”
“You’re going to Pomfrey,” I demanded, leaving no room for argument. 
“Just get me to Snape.” He muttered, trying to stand.
I rose before him, helping him up. Every eye was on the two of us, but I paid them no mind. There wasn’t time or energy. His arm slung around my shoulder; we made our way into the castle towards Snape’s office.
“Miss Y/l/n,” Snape pursed his lips looking down his nose. “I am to assume you didn’t do this to him?” Something lingered behind the professors black eyes.
“It was Potter,” Draco muttered darkly.
In that moment I wondered if Snape knew about Draco’s relationship with his father...
“Potter,” Snape sneered, grabbing a vial from his desk drawer. “I’m assuming you’d like one as well Miss Y/n?” Snape asked, looking to me.
“Me?” I asked, frowning.
“Your hand is sliced as well as your arm,” He raised an eyebrow.
A curse slipped through my lips as I looked at my right arm. Sure enough blood was soaking through Draco’s robes and my white button-up.
“These are yours too,” I complained, taking the vial from Snape and downing it, the now noticeable stinging pain from my arm fading.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” Draco chuckled, looking better by the second. A smile touched my lips.
“Thank you, Professor,” I glanced to Snape. “For every time,” My hand rested on Draco’s shoulder.
Something passed between Snape and I, and it was almost odd, the sort of understanding we had. 
“Very well,” He muttered. “Now out you two, I have work to do,”
The walk back to our dorms was quiet. Since I was still in Slytherin gear the portrait didn’t comment as I walked through with Draco, nearly clinging to him. Without a word he took me up to his room and locked the door.
He shed his bloody gear quickly and then came to me, taking my—his—robe off and throwing it in with the pile. Pushing my sleeve back he examined my arm where it had been sliced on the rocks. Nothing was left but faded pink scars.
“I’ll kill that Potter,” He vowed. 
“I’m fine,” It was a weak lie.
Right now, I was just exhausted. Over the weeks I had taken snide remarks from Harry at DA and brushed them off for the greater good, but after today I didn’t know if I could stomach another meeting, or even being in the same room as Harry.
Pursing his lips and pressing gentle kisses to my scars, Draco handed me one of his green hours sweaters and headed to the showers. I changed quickly, my fingers curling in the oversized
sweater’s soft fabric. Again, I began to nest in his bed and cocooned myself in pillows and blankets.
He came back out, his hair sleeked back and damp, in sweats and a t-shirt. I didn’t lift my head; my eyes merely followed his form as he laid beside me in bed pulling me close. I reveled in his warmth and scent, my fingers mussing his hair like I had so long ago in the summer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His question was soft against my skin.
“I can handle a few comments,” I replied defeated. “I’m a Hufflepuff remember? If it’s not one thing it’s another,” I closed my eyes. “Abby, Ernie, and Hermione always stuck up for me,”
“Y/n. I don’t know if—” He started.
“I’m not going to another meeting, don’t worry,” My voice broke as tears finally started to fall.
“All I do is worry about you,” I could hear the smile in his voice as his fingers carded through my hair. “I’m so sorry,” A gentle kiss was pressed to my hairline.
“It was going to happen eventually,” My tone was glum.
Draco sighed and didn’t comment further. Whatever was in the vial that Snape had given us must have been parted with a Sleeping Potion because I found soft comforting slumber within Draco’s arms.
........................
“This is just getting ridiculous,” I heard a faint voice.
“Imagine if Umbridge knew,” Pansy snickered. “Her golden boy breaking about every rule she’s set,”
“Bugger off,” Draco grumbled groggily, his arms tightening around me. 
“They are too precious,” Abby sighed. “Sun and moon they are,”
“Such a sap aren’t you Abby?” Pansy teased. “Though no one could tell with you next to Maria von Trapp over here,”
I frowned and squinted into the morning light.
“When did you see the Sound of Music?” I asked Pansy, “And why didn’t you tell me you were watching it?” I looked to Abby.
“You were occupied,” Abby grinned, looking over to Draco.
“What’s the Music Sound?” Draco asked sitting up, running a hair through his disaster of a hairstyle.
“The Sound of Music,” I corrected. “One of my favorite movies,” I accused Abby with my tone.
 “Muggle stuff?” Draco mumbled into my shoulder still not completely awake.
“Yes dear,” I smiled and rolled my eyes.
“Like Narnia?” He pressed further.
“Something like that,”
Abby and Pansy both snickered and left Draco’s room. I laid back in bed, pulling Draco onto my chest, petting his hair softly. It was a soft morning filled with lazy kisses and gentle touches. It being Sunday there was no real reason to get up other than food.
The day was spent in desperate hopes to forget the day before. Abby dropped off clothes for me when she came and I silently thanked her, heading to Draco’s bathroom, taking a quick shower and dressing. Snow still covered the grounds, so I slipped Draco’s sweater back over my head as we headed to the Great Hall.
All eyes were on us as we entered. It wasn’t a new occurrence; I was just afraid to meet familiar green eyes. To my comfort, I didn’t. Draco and I ate in peace surrounded by my friends and his. In fact, they formed a makeshift protective bubble around us unknowingly. Any Gryffindor coming near the two of us would get a cold glare from someone in green or yellow. I didn’t like the animosity, but the quietness was nice for once.
November passed like the snow that fell. I didn’t go to another Quidditch match, even though the next one was Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Abby understood, muttering something about shoving a broomstick and Harry, but I didn’t ask her to repeat it. I didn’t go to another DA meeting either. I watched the dates change on the charmed Galleon, sighed and slipped it back into my pocket.
“I still want you to be able to protect yourself,” Draco said one night as we studied in the library.
“I’m not going back there,” I snapped stubbornly and sighed. “I can’t... It makes me anxious just thinking about it Dray, and I have midterms and OWLs... and Pinnae has been driving me insane because I haven’t let her out,”
“Okay,” Was all he said with a soft smile. “How about we go let her out now?” 
“Now?” It was the middle of a Saturday the afternoon in mid-December.
Draco shrugged. “As riveting as Niffler Knacks is, I think we need a break,” He closed the book and stood.
In the quiet of my room I morphed into Pinnae and fluttered out the window, flying to the tree beside the frozen lake where I promised to meet Draco. Landing on his shoulder with practiced ease, he pet my head softly and watched as I soared into the sky again. Draco was right, I needed this. The brisk wind in my feathers and the beautiful snow-covered mountains nestling the frozen lake... it took my mind off of everything below me.
On the ground below I had burdens to bear and the world looked so small. There were no doubts or fears from up here. Floating on the wind, I glided through the clouds. From up here everything was mine, every mountain and frozen meadow and there was no reason to cry or fear anything. I let out a victorious screech.
Soaring, I dove back towards the earth, banking left hard, circling around Draco and our tree. Abby and Pansy had joined him, holding hands. Abby waved and cheered me on. Pansy looked confused and Draco just beamed at me.
I flapped against the wind, slowing down and coming to a stop, chirping at my friends. 
“Hey there Feathers,” Abby beamed. “You wanna tell her?” She gestured to Pansy.
I chirped and fluttered to Draco’s shoulder, nuzzling his face before flying up to a low hanging bare tree branch.
“Tell me what?” Pansy asked. “Whose owl is that? Is it Y/n’s?”
I morphed out of Pinnae and watched shock fill her features.
“Actually,” I grinned, swinging my legs, perched on the tree branch. “It is me,”
“Will you get down from there?” Draco scolded.
“Wait, but—that means... and— wait.” Pansy stuttered.
Abby laughed and so did I dropping easily to the ground with a soft thud, cuddling into Draco’s warmth.
“But—” Pansy looked around. “How? No wait—you didn’t talk for a month! That’s why! Has anyone told you that you’re absolutely brilliant!?” Pansy laughed.
“Draco might have mentioned that,” I grinned, looking up at him.
“What’s it like?” She asked. “Have you picked up owl traits? How often do you fly? Can you understand other owls? Other animals?”
“Pansy,” Draco snapped, I merely laughed.
“It’s amazing, yes, this is the first time in a month, not that I know of for the last two,” I answered with ease.
We all walked back to the castle coupled off and huddling from the cold—well, I was huddling into Draco’s comfort, the cold didn’t bother me anymore.
Christmas was all abuzz in the halls of Hogwarts and not even Umbridge could dampen the student body’s spirits. With a few days left of the term, we could all taste the freedom, the past months events all but forgotten in my mind since the day out with Draco, Pansy, and Abby. I found out that Abby and Pansy had gotten together after the fight in November—something about defending each other against other Gryffindors then kissing each other?
For the first time in my life, I looked forward to the holidays.
 Epilogue:
“My mother invited you and your parents over for Christmas Eve,” I told him the last day of term, handing him a sealed letter. “I know it’s a long shot but...” a shrug left my shoulders.
“My mother might accompany me, my father...” Draco trailed off.
I righted his school robe, readjusting his scarf so that it hung correctly.
“Don’t stress about it Draco. Let me know if you need Pinnae.” I looked up at him through my eyelashes and watched his mask melt back off since I mentioned his father.
“I will,” He smiled and pressed a soft kiss to my lips.
.
.
Chapter 4
End Note: Please let me know what you think! Your words and reblogs are so important to me always! Don’t be afraid to reblog and comment! I’m nice I swear!
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lazaefair · 4 years
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Has anyone done the Disney Princess AU yet
Part 1 - written by me, @poemsingreenink, and @iwritesometimes
poemsingreenink: Like, if anyone has big, soft innocent eyes it's Marwan who I swear to god looks near happy tears in most intense scenes. I at one point during Aladdin in theaters thought "You know Jafar's maybe just not had a great life. He's really having a day here." BECAUSE OF HIS BIG SOFT EYES.
lazaefair: LUCA MARINELLI HIMSELF SAID IT
sarah: HOWWWWW DID HE EVEN GET CAST AS JAFAR LIKE THOSE ARE DISNEY PRINCESS EYES
lazaefair: I...I need somone to draw Joe in a Disney Princess dress
sarah: but WHICH PRINCESS i feel like belle's off the shoulder gold ballgown has promise
lazaefair: Ariel’s pink gown would really drive the point home, though Although you’re right, Belle is a literate, dreamy brunette who loves poetry, so she’s closer as an archetype
sarah: i'll be honest: i was mostly thinking of getting his shoulders nude
lazaefair: Nicky is Ariel. Big blue eyes, otherworldly, utterly uncivilized.
sarah: YES
So imagine: Prince Yusuf, who had a giant statue of himself gifted to him on his birthday, and who hates it because his best friend (and immortal general of the army) Andromache is NEVER GOING TO LET HIM LIVE IT DOWN.
Also imagine: feral merman siren Nicolò who bites off fishheads and communicates through weird clicking noises, when he’s not singing men to their deaths. He’s not one of those useless pretty koi mermaids, no. He’s a motherfucking creature of the deep. Lamp eyes that are used to distract fish prey. Claws and pale fins and an intense stare and fangs.
Now imagine: Prince Yusuf going overboard in the storm that hits his royal yacht. Struggling, swept away, half-drowned and losing hope fast when an unearthly song fills the air, low and sweet and compelling. He’s swimming towards the singing before he realizes it, delirious, until something closes around his ankle and drags him under. The thing under the water kills him quickly.
And then kills him again, when it doesn’t take. After the third killing, Nicolò’s on his way to being well and truly mystified (“Okay, don't panic. They all die eventually, maybe...maybe I’ll just need to do it again?”) and gives up after the fourth and fifth killing. He drags his (attempted) prey to a little sheltered island he knows about, kills it one last time just to make sure, and then watches, resigned, as the flesh heals up and the lungs push water out until it’s coughing its way back to undeniable life.
“You rescued me,” is the first thing Yusuf says to him. “Your song – it is the song of my heart. My soul.”
Nicolò...has no idea what to do with this, coughs awkwardly in reply, and leaves before he can think too hard about the warmth in his chest answering to the warmth in the human’s expressive, grateful eyes.
(He doesn’t tell Yusuf the truth about their bloody first meeting until years later. It’s too goddamn embarrassing, to be perfectly honest.)
Of course he comes back within a day, almost shamefully quickly. Unable to help being fascinated by this gorgeous, well-spoken, kind and generous human who cannot die. He starts bringing things to Yusuf: at first just fish, then interesting-shaped fragments of rock and coral, and then bits of treasure he’s collected over the years, just to hear what new poetic turn of phrase Yusuf will spout on the spot when he’s given something.
“...this is my family crest on this treasure chest, Nicolò. How strange.”
“It is the chest you said your great-great-grandfather lost,” Nicolò says, the words coming out dry and halting from long years of disuse. Watching Yusuf’s hands as he traces the elaborate lines engraved on the lid, now blurred with rust and coral. 
“That’s amazing. Truly. I am at a loss for words,” Yusuf says, smiling.
“No, you aren’t,” Nicolò says, and keeps watching so he can see the moment when the smile turns into a laugh.
Another day, he brings to Yusuf what Booker had told him was called a ‘dinglehopper’ and was what humans used to keep their hair in order, as they did not have the ocean to spread it out like beautiful seaweed in the waves. Yusuf takes it, mouth twitching in a way that makes Nicolò doubt the accuracy of Booker’s explanation. Yet Yusuf does not correct him, but in fact solemnly thanks him before offering the dinglehopper back and asking him to help untangle his riot of curls.
And so it goes. Days pass. Fascination becomes infatuation, turns to desire and then into love, until neither can imagine living without the other, and yet—
Eventually, Nicolò has to give Yusuf up. The prince is too noble and good to just abandon his people indefinitely. And because Nicolò loves him, he goes out and once more lures a ship in with his song, but not to dash it to pieces on jagged rocks this time. He leads them to the island. Watches from a distance as the astonished shouting begins, then back-pounding hugs and joyous celebration as Yusuf boards the ship and sails away. Watches Yusuf turn back more than once to scan the beach, clearly looking for Nicolò, but Nicolò does not follow. Instead, he watches until the ship is lost to his sight and he cannot feel the ship’s current or smell, and then he dives deep and goes to visit Merrick.
Meanwhile, Yusuf arrives back at the capital, where his other best friend, Quỳnh (immortal admiral of the navy) feels terribly guilty about the prince going overboard on his birthday. Which is why she uncharacteristically doesn’t give him shit when he comes back babbling nonsense about mermaids. Or when he spends the next few weeks moping around, writing mermaid poetry and drawing mermaid pictures.
To be fair to him, the particular mermaid he sketches over and over does look pretty striking. Otherworldly and all that. Good cheekbones. Nice pearly scales. “Fucking...giant anglerfish eyes,” Quỳnh mutters while she and Andy look over the latest pile of sketches Yusuf’s left abandoned on a library table. “Our prince has been fucking bewitched by a fucking fish.”
“Mm,” Andy agrees. 
So when Nicolò arrives at the palace one fine summer’s day – naked, his fangs smoothed away to look perfectly human, a giant emerald in one hand and a silver fork in the other – and walking, on legs, it causes a bit of an uproar.
“You still smell like the sea,” Yusuf says hoarsely into Nicolò’s neck, the two of them wrapped around each other as closely as two bodies can be.
“Oh, fuck,” Andy says, lowering her axe. Quỳnh looks more closely at the dirty naked wild man their prince is embracing as if his life depends on it. Angular face. Skin encrusted with salt. Absolutely enormous piercing blue eyes. Naked, did we mention naked.
“Oh, fuck,” Quỳnh says.
“You get them separated,” Andy says. “I’ll go...get them a bath.”
The price Nicolò paid for his new human shape:
His siren song.
His immortality.
What he gets in return:
Yusuf teaching him what a dinglehopper is actually called, and what humans actually use it for.
Yusuf teaching him how to read and write his native tongue, and a few other tongues besides.
Yusuf reading poetry to him or sketching next to him on long lazy afternoons in the gardens.
The immense pleasure of intimidating the fuck out of any remaining would-be suitors for Yusuf’s hand in marriage who are still hanging around the palace for some reason.
“I am Nicolò di Genova,” Nicolò replies to the marquis’s indignant demands – predator’s smile still frightening even without endless rows of needle-sharp teeth. “You have seven days to leave this place forever. Get your affairs in order.”
Friendship with Andy and Quỳnh.
“Holy shit. Did he just—”
“—stab the marquis with a fork, at dinner, in front of the entire court? Yep.”
“...”
“...”
“New best friend.”
“Obviously.”
Yusuf writing poetry about him and to him. Nicolò likes them all. He wouldn't know a good human poem from a bad human poem, but nothing Yusuf touches could be bad, so ergo it's good.
Sightseeing throughout the kingdom with Yusuf’s strong, gentle fingers twined around his.
Yusuf breathing blissful curses into Nicolò’s ear, exactly like he used to do on their island, as they move together on his enormous bed.
Yusuf. Yusuf. Yusuf.
(Booker is also there. He insisted on being turned human, too, and coming along to make sure Nicolò doesn’t totally fuck this up, but he’s really mainly there for the entertainment. And the booze. Andy asks him at one point about losing his immortality. He shrugs. “Look, if we die, we die,” he says, then offers Andy another pour of fine French brandy. The two of them get along famously.)
It’s all going great until one night on the beach, while they’re walking along hand-in-hand under the stars and idly discussing human and merfolk constellations. Someone approaches them, dressed splendidly and moving with arrogant grace. He is also angular, also fair-haired, also possessed of unsettling eyes. And he has Nicolò’s siren song, gently humming from the shell that adorns his neck.
“Merrick,” Nicolò hisses as Yusuf’s eyes grow glazed and blank, and he tightens his hand on Yusuf’s, afraid for the first time. “Our deal—”
“He can’t bear the idea of living forever without you, can he? And so he hasn’t proposed,” Merrick says, smiling cruelly. “You’ve missed your chance. He’s mine.” And he extends his hand out to Yusuf—
Who stirs, suddenly, and turns to Nicolò. “Limpid, or shimmering?” 
“What?”
“Shimmering,” Yusuf decides, peering into Nicolò’s eyes. “Yes. Limpid would be too pretentious, I think.”
And that’s pretty much that – we don’t actually get the plot with Merrick the Sea Witch because Yusuf only has eyes for one weird-looking white guy. Also, his one artistic failing is that he's tone deaf.
They do eventually kill Merrick because true love wins out and we are all about those happy endings, Grimm’s can suck it, etcetera, so Nicolò gets his immortality and his siren song back. He’s also back to being a merman, but Yusuf does not care. “I could paint your beautiful tail for the rest of my life, my love, and still fail to capture the luminous iridescence of you,” he murmurs, stroking said tail with tender fingers. The last person to touch Nicolò’s tail got his hand bitten off. Here and now, Nicolò runs his claws through Yusuf’s hair, clicking deep and happy in his throat.
(“This is weird, right?” Quỳnh asks from where she and Andy are busy scraping evil kraken guts off their armor, a prudent distance down the beach from the lovers. “I’m not the only one who thinks it’s weird?”
Andy says nothing, just offers Quỳnh the rest of her bottle of vodka. This is why Quỳnh loves her so.)
(The wedding is a nightmare, at least according to the palace chef charged with cooking the wedding feast. “What is this, this, abomination? What in heaven’s name have you brought into my kitchen!”
“Tubeworm,” Booker says. “Considered a fine delicacy among our people. Don’t worry about it.”)
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Text
A Night to Remember
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader,
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: angst, mental illnesses, no self esteem, depressed!reader, hating how one looks, smut, oral fem!receiving, unprotected sex, fluff at the end
Summary: You and Dean have started dating, and it’s been going good. You know he wants sex, but you’re scared to go there with any man. When you spill your deepest fears to him, he takes it better than you thought he would. He turns those fear into a night you won't be able to forget.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Author’s Note: This is the fourth part of six parts of the commission for @sea040561​
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Dean has taken care of you ever since you shut down due to your depression. He’s been helping you every step of the way, and it kind of scares you. He’s taken the time to get to know you, your body, what you can and can’t handle, and what you love. He’s done more for you than any other person, and it makes you both scared and happy at the same time.
Over the course of only a few months, you two have gotten quite close. He’s made you feel like the only girl in the world, he’s taken your needs into account, and he makes you feel special. He’s taken you out on one or two dates, but they were never anything serious. A kiss on the cheek here, a kiss on the lips there, but nothing more than that. He understands you need time to take this all in, but he doesn’t know the real reason why you need to.
There is nothing in this world than you want more than to have Dean as your boyfriend. You want to go on dates, experience a little PDA, and have sexual and non-sexual intimacy. You want to feel like the girls you use to hate because they had what you wanted. Well, it’s here, and you’re not so sure you’re ready for it.
Dean loves sex, he loves intimacy, and he loves showing off his girlfriends. You’ve never had a long-term boyfriend before, and because you’re a forty-six-year-old virgin, you’re very scared to take things to the next level. Never have you had someone look at you and want you in the way that Dean does. He’s done a good job at making you feel comfortable with who you are, but he hasn’t seen you naked. He wants you the way you wanted someone to want you, and now that it’s here, you can’t believe that you’re not jumping at the chance to really be with him.
You honestly don’t know what to do.
It’s not the act of sex that you’re scared of or the fear of it hurting, you’re just scared of someone seeing you so bare and vulnerable to them. You’re scared of how he’ll look at you once he sees you naked. You can try to make yourself look good with clothes and the right kind of tummy tuck clothing, but you’re fully exposed when you’re naked. You’re two hundred and fifty pounds, so it’s not going to be pretty--that’s what you tell yourself. You just don’t know how to tell Dean all of this.
Growing up, all of your friends were having sex in high school and college, falling in love, and being skinny and beautiful. They were who men turned their heads for. Whenever you went out with them for drinks or just to have a fun time, men would always hit on them and make them giggle and blush, but they would never give you the time of day. They had boyfriends (now husbands) so they would never do anything about it, but it’s the fact that they are the ones who got picked.
You were never the girl that got looked at twice. You’ve tried putting yourself out there in middle school and high school, but you were rejected every single time. You never got asked out to prom or homecoming, never got to go on a date, and you were punished by watching other girls live out the one thing you’ve always wanted. Having this happen to you diminished your self-esteem until you were so small that you’d fit in a ring box.
You never want to go through rejection again, and that’s exactly why you are forty-six and a virgin. You’ve always waited for someone to come to you, but you never thought it would happen. Now that there is someone who wants you like you’ve always wanted, it scares the hell out of you. How can you expect someone to love you for who you are and to love your appearance when you clearly hate it so much? Dean tries so hard to show you how much you like him, but you’re afraid you’re not giving him the same treatment.
Like a gentleman, Dean walks you to your room as if it were your own apartment. He clearly wants to take things to the next level--he has been for months now--so you try to let him. His kisses have been nothing short of amazing, but he’s clearly ready to move forward with things. You tell yourself that you are too, that you’ll just get over your fears, but it doesn’t seem to want to work that way.
He slides his hands down your waist and towards your ass, but you pull away very quickly. Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes, and Dean sees it despite you turning away from him.
“Are you okay?”
“I had a very fun night, but I think I’m going to bed now. Goodnight, Dean.”
You escape into your room before Dean has a chance to say something back. You close the door in his face, but he doesn’t move from it. He can hear your soft cries from the other side of the door, and it’d be wrong if he left now. He considers you his girlfriend, and he’s not leaving until he finds out what’s wrong.
“Y/N, open the door. Please?”
“I’m fine, Dean.”
“Sweetheart, I’m not leaving until you open the door and let me in.”
What would happen if you let him in? It’s not fair to him that you keep shutting him out, and your anxiety is what makes you open it for him. You retreat back to your bed when he steps inside, and he closes it behind him. He silently approaches you and takes a seat next to you. He's so close that his knee is touching yours.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” he asks in a gentle tone.
“You don’t know this about me, but there’s a reason why I’m a forty-six-year-old virgin,” you whisper.
You expect to hear laughter come from him, but it never comes. People laughed when they found out you were a twenty-five-year-old virgin and they pitied you when you were thirty-five. You stopped telling people at thirty-six.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed about. Were you waiting until marriage?”
“No. If it were up to me, I’d have lost it when my best friends lost theirs.”
“What do you mean, if it were up to you? It’s always up to you.”
“I’m two hundred and fifty pounds, Dean. I’ve always been the fat girl all throughout my life. No man has ever looked twice my way let alone taken the chance to get to know me. So, no, it’s not up to me.”
“Y/N, you know that’s--”
“I don’t know when I’ll get the courage to say this out loud, so I need to do it now. I can’t have you interrupting me.”
“Okay,” he whispers.
You have to get this off your chest because maybe he will understand what you’ve been through since middle school.
“No man has ever wanted to touch me in the way I know you want to. All my friends were out having sex and living their lives and getting married. I was left out in the cold, always the underlying third wheel because I couldn't be with a man long enough for them to get to know me. Men don’t look at me twice--they never have.
“I believe I’m a good person. I’m not the best, but I damn well now I’m not bad. Men take one look at me and decide I’m not worth getting to know because of the way I look. I’ve tried to put myself out there, but I’ve been shot down every single time. I couldn’t figure out why they were doing it to me and not to my friends until I really looked at myself in the mirror.
“I’m not skinny. I’m not beautiful. I have stretch marks for days. I have fat on my body in places where fat really shouldn’t be. I take one look in the mirror and have to look away in disgust. I’m unflattering and ugly, and while there are parts of my body that I absolutely love, I hate most of it. I was never scared of the act of sex or how much it’ll hurt. I’m scared of how you’ll look once you see what I look like without anything covering me up.”
You’re in tears now, and you’re not sure if Dean can understand your babble, but you continue.
“You can tell me I’m beautiful or pretty, but I won’t believe you. I’ll just think you’re lying to save my feelings and then you’ll be forced to have sex with me because you can’t possibly see a girl naked and then leave. I want to love myself, I really do, but it’s so damn hard when all I’ve heard from people is that I’m not good enough, and if they don’t say it, their face certainly does.
“One half of me believes that I can learn to love myself when someone else loves me first. However, the other half of me believes that in order for me to love someone else, I have to love myself first. I’m in a constant battle of contradicting myself, and it’s ruined my life. I’m stuck and I’ve been stuck in this position for a long time. I like you, Dean, a lot, but I guess I’m just scared. Really fucking terrified.”
You finish getting what you needed to say off your chest, and you take a deep breath to force the panic attack that’s bound to come up. You have to keep yourself calm if you’re going to get through this.
“I know you’re not going to believe this, but I do think you’re beautiful. I guess I can tell you this all I want, but I need to show you. If you’ll let me, I want to prove to you how much I think you’re beautiful.”
“How?” you whisper.
He doesn’t say anything else as he places his lips upon yours. You're frigid and stiff, but he knows just how to make you loosen up.
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do, but let me show you.”
“Okay,” you whisper.
“Okay?”
“Yeah, I trust you,” you nod.
“We can stop whenever you want.”
“I know,” you say with a small smile.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers.
It terrifies you, but you do as he says.
He leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, peppering them down as he moves down your body. Every press of his lips makes your heart jump, but it’s about damn time you get this over with. You’re glad it’s with Dean Winchester and not anybody else. He slides his hands up your shirt to take it off, and you hold your breath. You have to keep your eyes closed if you’re going to get through this.
As soon as your shirt is off, you arch your back so he can take off your bra. You still haven’t opened your eyes in fear that he lied before about thinking you were beautiful. Dean expertly unclasps your bra from behind, setting your breasts free. You can’t even think about opening your eyes since your whole upper body is exposed. That’s where most of your stretch marks are.
“Open your eyes,” he whispers.
You take a couple of deep breaths in before slowly opening them. You stare at the ceiling for a few seconds before slowly sliding them to look at Dean. There is nothing but love, respect, and admiration in his eyes. He truly doesn’t care what you look like because it’s your personality that he’s fallen in love with. Everything else is just an added bonus. As soon as your eyes lock onto his, he wraps his tongue around your nipple before pulling it between his lips.
A wave of pleasure shoots down to your core, electrifying your every nerve. You’ve never felt anything like this before, so this is all new to you. His hands slide down your body to unbutton your pants, and you’re less terrified this time. His mouth is doing a pretty good job at distracting you from your thoughts and feelings. He releases your nipple with a loud pop so he can focus on getting your pants off.
To make things fair, he takes his shirt off that exposes all of his sexy muscles and deep crevices. He’s not ripped like his brother is, but he does have a good body to show off. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and he removes his own pants so that you two are only in your underwear.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“You.”
You reach for his briefs, but he’s quick to pull away from you.
“Tonight is all about you, sweetheart. Are you okay to continue?”
“Yeah, I am,” you say truthfully.
“Then let me make you feel good,” he grins.
He guides you to lay on your back, to have you in a position that opens you up for him. He hooks his fingers in the sides of your panties and slowly peels them down your legs until you’re left bare to him. Your mind starts to tell you how ugly you are, that you’ll never be good enough for the great Dean Winchester. However, it seems like Dean knows exactly how you’re feeling, so he puts an immediate halt to that.
He grips your thighs and spreads your legs so that you’re exposed to him. His mouth waters when he sees how wet your pussy is for him.
“Damn, Y/N, I haven’t even touched you,” he teases.
“Dean,” you whimper.
“I know,” he whispers and dives right in.
His tongue sipes through your folds once, and it’s like a firecracker exploded inside your body. Your whole body is numb with pleasure as it tries to figure out the new and exciting feeling. Dean only has one goal in mind and it’s all about you; your pleasure, your wants, and your needs. His tongue draws soft circles on your clit before moving down to your opening. You’re so wet that he just slides right in without having any trouble. The taste of you is so strong it’s making him dizzy, but he doesn’t stop. In fact, he moans which sends vibrations up your core and to your brain.
This is nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. Why did you wait so long to do this? Your hands seek out something to grip, and they naturally find their way to Dean’s hair. He’s too wrapped up in your pussy to even notice when you latch on and tug. The longer he stays buried inside you, the more you feel something tightening. It’s like a rubber band that has been stretched to its capacity and someone starts from the middle and twists it. There will come a point where it breaks, and you know it’s coming soon.
“Dean, I--”
You can’t even finish your sentence, it’s too much.
“I know. Let go. Come for me,” he mumbles.
He licks his way back to your clit and wraps his lips around it. He gives one hard suck, and that rubber band breaks. Your body arches as the dam breaks, and your orgasm covers every inch of Dean’s chin. He laps up all that you have to offer him before he pulls away.
“Sweetheart, let me just say I am both glad and jealous that I am the first person who got to taste you,” he laughs and kisses his way up your body. “Goddamn you are perfect.”
“I don’t know about that,” you let out a breathy laugh.
“I do.”
He leans down and kisses you so that you can taste yourself on his tongue. You don’t think there has been anything hotter than this moment right here.
“What about you?” you whisper.
“If you think I am letting you off with only one orgasm tonight, then you’re sorely mistaken,” he smirks.
“There’s more?” you squeak.
“Sweetheart, there is so much for you to learn. If you let me, I’d love to be your teacher.”
“Yeah,” you nod with a smile.
He removes his briefs, and for a split second, your eyes widen at the size of him. You’ve seen other cocks before, but this one is the biggest. You don’t know if that says something about him or about you, but you know it says something.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispers.
“I’m not,” you say truthfully.
He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up at your entrance. Once he knows he can enter without the help of his hand, he lets go and moves it so that it’s by your head. He needs to distract you from the pain, so he kisses you as passionately as he can. His tongue enters your mouth and rubs sensually on yours, and for a moment, you don’t know where you are. He takes this moment to slowly slide into you. You’re wet from your first orgasm, so it’s not like he’s entering in blindly.
As soon as he pushes past the resistance, you feel pain. It’s a good kind of pain--nothing like you anticipated at all. It burns, but he is doing a good job at soothing your pain. You’ve read that the pain turns to pleasure quickly, but you’re not sure--wait, there it is. He bottoms out, and you let out the most sinful moan you’ve ever made. He pulls away from you and grabs your hips to steady your movements so he can go faster.
The more he picks up the pace, the more your back arches because of it. He sure knows what he is doing. He’s hitting all the right places, he knows how you make you moan like a pron star, and more importantly, he makes you feel like you’re the only girl in the world. His hands slide into the palms of yours, and he interlocks his fingers with your so he has something to grip as he thrusts into you.
“Shit, Dean, you feel amazing,” you moan.
“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart. Damn,” he groans.
He shoves his face in the crook of your neck and bites the skin there. He wants to make you remember this night for days to come, and that’s only going to happen if he marks you up. He sucks the skin between his teeth and bites to break the blood vessels beneath it. You’re so caught up in the pleasure that you don’t even notice. He thinks you’ll remember this night by the marks on your neck, but little does he know that’s not the reason why you’ll remember this day for the rest of your life.
Dean’s thrusts start to lose its rhythm, which can only mean that he is close to his edge.
“Are you close?” he grunts.
“Yeah,” you pant.
“Come with me.”
He gives one hard thrust that happens to hit a spot you never knew you had. That same coil snaps once more, sending your orgasm to wash through you. Dean’s load unleashes at the same time, coating your walls in white. You’re on cloud nine right now, and you never thought it was possible until Dean Winchester came along. Dean’s thrusts slow to a halt before he slowly pulls out of you. Your mixed orgasms leak out of you, but that’s not a problem for you. Dean moves to get a rag and clean you up, but you grip his arm to prevent him from doing so.
“No, stay with me for a moment,” you pant.
He moves back into bed with you, and you lay your head on his chest.
“How was that?” he asks nervously.
It’s weird to think that he’s the nervous one when it should be you.
“I don’t think anyone else could have done any better. You were amazing,” you chuckle.
“Do you believe me now?” he asks and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“I’m starting to,” you whisper.
You’re not going to be magically cured after this one night, but you’re now starting to believe in a future where you’re going to be okay. In a future where there is more to living than just going home and sleeping. To a future where Dean Winchester is a part of it. In a future where you’re not alone.
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74 notes · View notes
chrstbll · 4 years
Text
finally found you. | ben hargreeves
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 (gif not mine)
pairing: ben hargreeves x reader
tag: @grievingghost​
note: my first request ever! i just wanted to tell you, you made my whole day. thank you :) i hope you'll enjoy this one! xx i tried my best.
plot: Spending two years in the ‘60s, Ben starts to get concerned after every one of his siblings show up, except you. They find you where they least expect to. 
Returning to the huge mansion Klaus’s cult were positioned, the fourth sibling lazily slopped down on the couch of his bedroom. Removing a few pieces of clothing from his outfit, he made himself more comfortable and started to doze off, his baggy, tired eyes shuttering close.
“God, what a long day of saving the world. I don’t know how Superman does it daily.” he yawned and turned to his side. Klaus met up with exactly five of his siblings today to discuss the plan on how to return to their true timeline. Five pretty serious about saying  it was now or never. None of them forgot you, Diego notably. The two of you shared a strong bond that most siblings usually don’t. He looked for you in multiple states throughout the years, but eventually he had to stop for his own good. He hated the plan solely because they couldn’t do anything but leave you behind. Even after they tried to look for you, every evidence has led to a dead end.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re real sleepy.” a snarky voice spoke up in front of him. Klaus’ eyes popped open, but quickly relaxed when he recognised that it’s only Ben making his stupid comments.
“Just shut up, man. Let me have one good afternoon nap for once. Please...” he begged with a hoarse voice. Ben wasn’t buying any of his crap today, as Klaus did more things than usual that infuriated the ghost. For example, when he asked to let the others know he’s present as well, he simply laughed in his face.
“Shouldn’t you be at least a tiny bit of worried that we might leave in a few days, and (Y/N) still haven’t walked by us once? Shouldn’t you be? Because I am, and I don’t know why the dead one has to motivate you to look for your sister!” he scolded Klaus without stuttering once. He was sure you were alright. He knew how strong you were, especially when you had to face problems yourself. He assured himself everday since they got here, that they would eventually run into you or you’d find them. His anxiety only arose when Five declared his plan and you were still nowhere to be found.
“Weren’t you with me this whole time? We looked for her! For two years I thought my family was dead, can I be at least a little happy for them?” Klaus sounded angry and desperate at the same time. He was now sitting up and facing his brother with a hardened look on his face.
“Well we didn’t look hard enough! You didn’t!” Ben only angered Klaus more.
“I’m sorry my little brother, but she’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere “he groaned “Knowing her, she’d be here already, but she isn’t. You must accept it, she’s gone. End of story! “Klaus lashed out in a manner which resulted in one thing.
Ben punched him.
“Did I convince you?”
“Yeah.”
The question 'What would you do, if you travelled back in time to the '60s?' would probably be the title of a little kid's first essay in school that they’d have a hard time writing. Even after two years of living in this timeline, you’d have no idea what to write either.
Searching in hopes of finding at least one alive sibling of your family was a quest you gave up exactly today. After desperately trying day after day, you finally sat down in a bar. The feeling of hopelessness and disappointment weighted down on your shoulders. Two years and none of them turning up really took its toll on you. Maybe Five has a plan, right? You thought of every single one of them, but one face in your memory ached your heart more than the rest. Memories of Ben kept popping up in your brain, and honestly, this time you didn’t mind. Since the day he’s been gone, you grieved him and kept his memory close to your heart.
You thought back to that night after Reginald’s funeral, when Klaus revealed to you that the boy you tied strong feelings to was still around. The first time in seventeen years that you were able to reconnect with him, and God, was it amazing and heart-breaking at the same time. Ever since then, you felt a little less alone. Even though you were surrounded by your living siblings, it made you a little bit happier knowing all eight of you were there.
With the  money you managed to save up, you bought a drink. You looked around and saw exactly what everyday life was like here. Excessive amount of drinking and smoking hand in hand, usually older, grungy white men enjoying their addiction of poker where they stole anything they possibly could from their opponents.
While you were waiting for your drink, your eyes wandered through a room. Today wasn’t the day you expected something out of ordinary to happen. But here it was. You could feel your body freeze and your blood pressure go up at the same time when your eyes spot a slim male figure, with long brown and wavy locks dressed in funny clothing in the farthest part of the room. He was arguing with thin air. For a few seconds you looked at him weird and that was when the realisation hit you.
Klaus!
Already forgetting your drink, you abruptly stood up from the bar stool. Quickly crossing the room, you made your way over to Klaus, not taking your eyes off him. You bumped into a few people which granted you some mean remarks, but you didn’t even hear them. As if everything turned to grey in the room, and only Klaus was in colour. You picked up the pace when it looked like he was about leave. Your heart was pounding, your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t believe that it was actually him until you crashed into his body and wrapped him in a suffocating hug.  
He wasn’t realising the situation until he saw the shocked Ben behind you. He looked at you and back at him, repeating several times before returning the tight hug. He began laughing almost hysterically and he was sure he felt his eyes tear up. When he pulled away, he was still grabbing your shoulders to make sure you were real and not going away. 
“Damn, girl, didn’t you want to show up sooner?” he joked.
“I wanted to. Believe me” you replied. You were breathless, but so over the moon at the same time for finally getting a hold of your brother.
If only you could see the pure ecstasy that got a hold of Ben in a matter of seconds. He was in the middle of a heated argument with Klaus about him saying that you most likely won’t be here and how stupid of an idea it was to come here. He swore he was about to launch another punch at him, when suddenly you exploded into Klaus’ arms. The atmosphere instantly softened just like his whole being did. If he were alive, he’d be sure as hell his heart would’ve jumped out of his chest right then and there. The relief and happiness thanks to you combined affected him as if a fresh glass of water was offered up to him after days of insufferable thirst. 
Klaus presented the idea to return to his place where you can catch up on everything in peace. You didn’t mention Ben yet, however he was the only one on your mind. You were thinking about asking Klaus if he could conjure up his ghost so he can be visible to your eyes as well, or just simply deliver some messages. But you also didn’t want to make him feel like a translator or a third-wheel at all, but greedines got the best of you.
“Can I talk to Ben when we get back?” you asked softly “If it’s alright with you.” you added. The anxiety was obviously recognizable in your voice, but perhaps it was for the reason that you feared being rejected by your brother or because you were in despair to share a few words with your deceased lover at last. 
“It’s only fair (Y/N)” he smiled to himself “ So of course. Plus I’m already tired of Benny boy gushing in the backseat” The statement made you laugh wholeheartedly, something you haven’t done in a while. 
Sitting down in his room, you were filled with excitement. You saw Klaus how hard he focused on his powers, so you remained still and quiet, but you would have anyway from feeling incredibly nervous.
As a shape started to take form with a blissful blue layer over itself on the couch in front of you, you found Ben himself smiling warmly back at you. His eyes glistened, his features fit him perfectly in his mature age, and he just looked perfect.
“Finally found you.” he beamed.
141 notes · View notes
icefire149 · 3 years
Text
An Angel’s Vow
[Dean/Castiel - Season 12 divergence where Cas was the only one with Kelly when she gave birth and he goes on the run/in hiding with baby Jack. He’s trying his hardest to be a good dad.]
Chapter One - (Or Read on AO3)
It was the third car he ditched, and the fourth he’d stolen today. Cas knew that he was being excessive at this point, especially with the erratic out of the way routes and doubling back he’d been doing in case he was being followed. He couldn’t afford a mistake. Not now.
His gaze slid over to the rear-view mirror for probably the thousandth time today. Still, there in his eye line was Jack sleeping in his car seat. The sight unnerved him every time.
Reading books, watching videos, taking online classes were all one thing, but...actually taking care of a child was a completely different experience. Jack wasn’t even twenty-four hours old yet, and Cas had already frozen in panic and broke down crying more times than he’d care to admit.
They crossed over the state line into Washington. Cas’ grip tightened on the steering wheel. What he wanted most was to be going in the opposite direction. To an extent, yes, the Men of Letters Bunker would be safe for Jack, but nowhere was going to offer the protection they needed from Heaven. His body ached to head for Kansas, because after these last several years on Earth, Cas was starting to associate the feeling of home with the Winchesters. And home was something he badly wanted for Jack.
The sun was rising when they drove up to the small cabin in North Cove. Cas parked the car, but he didn’t move from his seat. Guilt was coiling and tightening around his throat for the entire drive, but it was only now with the house looming over him that he desperately felt like clawing for air. It wasn’t fair what happened to Kelly.
The next several weeks were bumpy. Jack was definitely growing faster than human babies his age, but no where near as fast as Amara. Whether any of that was a good or a bad thing, Cas had no idea. The nephilim was an utter mystery to him. At the very least, as far as Cas could tell...Jack was a happy baby.
That was the only thing that kept Cas grounded while he tried to master the finesse of diaper changes, formula, and wrangling wiggling baby limbs. What didn’t help was the disharmonious tune of longing encircling him. Some days it was quiet like a lullaby, but others it was erratic and thunderous. The worse days were the ones where there was nothing at all.
It stung, but he knew that Dean wasn’t intentionally praying to him. He would if he absolutely needed to, but Dean was stubborn. Cas figured that even if Jack was aware of the situation, his reasoning skills were sufficient enough to surmise Dean was angry and that he wanted Cas to return to the bunker just so he could be told exactly so.
Castiel was in no mood to be chastised for doing exactly what Dean would do if the situation was reversed. The man’s double standards were maddening.
Today though was different. Cas was busy at the kitchen sink washing dishes when he heard a whisper. Castiel? Are you there? He dropped the small bowl that was in his hand. It splashed soapy water back up at him. You better be alive.
He stood there waiting for several minutes after that, but there was nothing else to the prayer. That was it. Cas picked up the dish towel on the counter and dried his hands, looking over his shoulder at Jack in his high chair.
Jack’s smile widened when they made eye contact. He started lightly tapping the palms of his hands on the tray part of the chair.
“Is it okay if I make a quick phone call?”
Jack’s head tilted to the side while he babbled.
The soft smile on Cas’ face grew. “I know. I know. We’re supposed to be off the grid hiding.” Cas dug his cell phone out of his coat’s inside pocket. He looked at the black screen before looking back at the baby. “It’ll only be for a minute. And after all this time there’s no way anyone is watching close enough to find us, right?”
Jack continued to babble away while he tried to wave every limb he could. Even his metaphysical wings.
Cas couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He knew this was Jack’s way of signaling he would like to be released from the chair’s confinement. “Can you wait until I’m done with my phone call, and then we can sit in the other room? It won’t be long.”
Jack stopped his wiggling and went back to rubbing the palms of his hands all over the chair. Cas took that as a, yes. Sighing, he leaned his back against the edge of the counter and turned his phone on.
It came to life and buzzed erratically for a couple minutes. Cas wasn’t sure what to do other than wait for it to stop. Even Jack was eyeing the phone oddly. Eventually, the buzzing ceased and Cas discovered that he had: over a dozen missed calls, tons of text messages, and a couple voice mails.
He groaned. It was bad enough that he had to keep track of the phone at all times, but what he really hated were the angry, red notification icons. So Cas did what he had to and cleared them out. All the missed calls were from Dean and they were consistent. He never went more than four days without calling. Cas opened the text messages next. The majority were again, from Dean.
Cas opened the ones from Sam first: Hey, I know you’re doing what you think is best but please pick up the phone once in a while.
Hey, is there any chance you can let Dean win the competition for being the most stubborn bastard this time and call him back? He’s driving me insane.
I saw on the news an aerial shot of the blast zone. I hope you and the baby are safe. Send us any kind of sign that you’re okay. Please.
It was too much. Grief battered into him in an unforgiving wave. Cas put the phone down and plucked Jack from his chair. He held the baby close to his chest. “We’re okay,” he whispered. “We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay.”
And they were. And so was Sam….and Dean. But not Kelly. It was inevitable. They all knew that, but still….Cas hoped that there would still be something he could try.
For now he was just grateful that he had the foresight to get Kelly far enough away from the cabin before Jack was born. He knew that she wouldn’t survive the birth. He knew that it was likely going to alert every angel, demon, and curious moron in creation, but he still wasn’t prepared for what occurred. The power blast….atomized her and tore apart tons of trees in the wooded area. He couldn’t imagine what the sight was that Sam saw on the news.
The tiny fist pounding into his collarbone finally snapped Cas out of his thoughts. Tilting his head down, he saw Jack’s big blue eyes intently staring into him. “We’re safe,” Cas whispered. He kissed the top of Jack’s head. “Everything’s fine.”
Cas went back to the counter and retrieved his phone. He brought Jack into the living room and they sat in the rocking chair by the window. The moment Jack caught a glimpse of a bird flying by, he was entranced by the window. Cas hung onto him with one hand while he stared at his phone.
There were still messages to read. He opened Dean’s: Where ARE you?
We’re not gonna do anything to the kid, okay? Removing their grace was just an idea.
I DO get it. You know that right?
The ship has sailed stopping the kid from being born. We’re not gonna let anyone go Old Testament on the kid. Besides the bunker has more than enough warding.
We’ll figure something out.
PpiECE o f shit. PICCJ UPP
What did Satan jr do? Tear down the nearest cell tower?
Come on Cas.
Are you even getting any of these?
Call me back NOW.
We’re not dead in case you care.
WHAT HAPPENED?
It looks like a bomb went off. That’s what the news is calling it.
I know you’re not dead. You’re too damn stubborn to die in a blast like that.
Cas.
It took several deep breaths before Cas felt calmer. Knowing Dean, any of that could have been worse. He scrolled back up through the messages again, trying to piece together the timeline of each one. We’re not dead in case you care. That one in particular concerned him most.
Cas ruffled Jack’s sandy brown hair. Jack leaned back and stared up at him making a couple happy noises. He looked back at the phone again. Dean could hate him for the rest of his life and that would be okay, because that meant he was safe enough to live that long. And Castiel could live with that.
He listened to the voice mails next: Cas, buddy, I…...I don’t want to be having this conversation like this. Those British assholes started killing us...the hunters. Everyone we know is fine….as far as I know. But….Cas, I really need to know that they didn’t get you. There was a long pause where Cas assumed the message was over. He held onto Jack tighter. Cas….they trapped Sammy and me in the bunker. Sealed us in...to suffocate. There was another pause, and Cas felt cold. He knew they were fine. They sent messages after this voice mail was made. He felt like he was the one suffocating. I’m sorry.
The next one started on it’s own before Cas could even try to pull himself together. You don’t get to do this. You’re either laying low in hiding right now or you’re in pieces from whatever happened in that blast zone. Did you ever stop to think ho- Cas felt himself lean forward, wondering where the thought was going before Dean cut himself off. He strained to pick up any sound, but there was only silence. Come on, man. Pick up your damn phone. Pick up any phone. And that was it.
Cas felt like he was being held together by one frayed thread. The part of him choking on guilt was begging it to snap, but the baby lightly kicking the heels of his feet into Cas’ thighs gave him enough reason to keep moving forward. He had more responsibilities and worth now than being the Winchester’s bulwark. Castiel hoped that one day they would understand that.
“Okay, Jack.” His voice came out strained while he turned Jack around to look at him easier. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I can’t put off making that phone call anymore. Wish me luck.”
Jack’s big blue eyes stared at him intently.
“Your wish is received. Loud and clear,” Cas said getting up and crossing the room to Jack’s playpen. It was made of rainbow pastel colored panels with star decorations. He placed Jack down in the safety of the pen, and then Jack immediately latched onto the foot of a plush lion doll.
Cas went back into the kitchen. He paced the room, again and again. The whole time his eyes were glued on the name in his contact list. Finally, he tapped the name and the line started ringing. Cas held his breath, worried that he was only going to make things worse.
It rang, and rang, and rang. And then, “Castiel?”
“Hello, Claire.”
16 notes · View notes
imanonymousfanfic · 3 years
Text
Kid's Lipstick (1/2)
This one shot was inspired by this artwork, don't forget to give the talented artist some love!
https://twitter.com/naru_KITA/status/1363171402254192640?s=20
Names for the unnamed crew members is credited to @ceejindeed or @ask-bolthead-crew !
It’s only Heat and I left in the game, again. Everyone else folded, giving up early in the game for a third time in a row, it’s suspicious at this rate. Haikei is leaning into his chair, head rolled back as he takes a long drawn out drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke over our heads. Everyone else in the crew is singing, dancing, stumbling across the deck in a chaotic mess, making it hard to concentrate. Luckily the distractions make it easier to bluff my way to victory. Wire’s eyes gloss over Heat’s hand before leaning over to me, taking in my hand. He slinks back into his normal seated position,  remaining completely emotionless as he does. When he thought I couldn’t see, he nudges Heat with a nodding smirk. I can’t help but grit my teeth, the damn bastards are messing with me again.
“So if I win, you have to down another mug of beer.”
“And if I win you will down an entire bottle of moonshine.”
“Where is this fair?” Haikei chips in, showing off a shit-eating grin.
I look to him, ready to murder. “Probably because I’ve drank-” I throw my hand over my mouth and loudly burp. “Sorry-But he hasn’t drank! It’s not fair!” I yell, smacking my fist down on the table a little too hard, hitting my wrist on the table's edge. I rub at the bruising joint, whimpering to myself as I do. Haikei laughs out and shakes his head, before taking another drag of his cigarette.
Heat snorts, catching my attention again. “Not my fault that you suck at the game and you’re a lightweight.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter back, I peak into the mug to see I have only drank half of the lager from my last loss. These men purposely take advantage of my small frame to be their laughing stock, mocking me because my tolerance is deplorable next to theirs. It sure has improved since I’ve joined them though.
“So this is what, the fourth game?” Heat questions me tauntingly. Oscar leans into the table, his eyes flicking between the blue haired pirate and I. He doesn’t often show interest in things, but this seemed to peak his.
“Fifth, actually.” He proceeds to correct, now smirking too. I lean back in my chair, staring him down. Any of my remaining amusement melts away. Now I know I’m not being paranoid, they are all in on this.
Heats lips tug into a soft smile. “So it’s a deal?”
“Just show your cards.”
Heat throws his cards down on the table with another winning hand, grinning devilishly as he does. Suddenly everyone around the table falls silent, turning their attention to me. Oscar and Wire exchange glances again. I roll my eyes and throw my defeated hand down, his straight flush beat my four of a kind.
I jump out of my seat, throwing my seat back as I do. “You’re a cheater!” I accuse him, growling louder than I planned.
“You’re accusing me of cheating?” Heat laughs out, rocking back on his chairs back legs. His sarcastic remark breaks me, turning my annoyance into uncontrollable rage. I climb onto the table and march my way across it, kicking all of their belongings out of my way. Heat lowers his chair and steadily stands tall, his gaze leveling perfectly with mine.
“Are you mocking me?”
He tilts his head at me, cocking an eyebrow as he does. He grins, amused by my question. “I would never mock you.”
“Oh, really? So then tell me why you cheated, because I know you did.”
Heat narrows his eyes at me. He lifts his hand up to my forehead, and flicks it hard. My temple thumps loudly, feeling the dull aching radiate through my skull. The others gasp silently amongst themselves, obviously not expecting him to respond the way he had. I freeze, my eyes deadpanned on him as the pain fades into the overboiling rage taking over my body.
“THAT’S IT!” I launch forward, tackling the blue haired pirate to the floor. I act quickly, throwing both of my legs around his neck as I try my best to pin his hands down. He quickly overpowers my hands, bending my wrists effortlessly at his will until I give out. He transfers both of my wrists into one hand, locking his long fingers tightly around them. With his now freed hand, he latches onto my ankle and pulls, trying to pry my limbs from his throat. Sucks for him, my legs are stronger than his arms.
The guys began to circle around us, chanting our names to encourage the fight. The audience for our struggle continues to grow larger the longer we go at it. Heat shoots up into a sitting position, almost throwing me off him, but my tight grip around his neck keeps me latched on. I swing forward, now coming face to face with him. I throw myself onto the floor again, bringing him with me. My angling on his neck gives me advantage and I squeeze harder on his throat. There’s no way I will lose this brawl. He wheezes, struggling against the pressure on his windpipe. He claws at my legs desperately, fingers digging deeply into my thighs, but he’s hopeless. His eyes are drooping and his tight clasp on my wrist is giving out.
“Enough of this!” Something tugs on my shirt, I peer over my shoulder to see an arm gripping tightly to the scruff of my shirt. I release my legs. Heat gasps for air, choking on it and rolls to his side, looking at me like I’m a maniac. I wave at him as I’m being dragged across the deck by Killer. The rest of the crew audibly express their disappointment.
“I ALMOST HAD HIM!” I yell at blond. He ignores me, continuing to the back of the deck and further out of sight.
“You’re exhausting, you pick a fight every time you drink.” We come to a stop, right outside the cargo room. He takes out the set of keys, unlocking it before kicking it open.
“It’s not my fault they pick on me,” I argue back. I tug on the fabric tight on my throat.  “You don’t care when the others do it, so why me?”
Killer doesn’t reply and lets go of me, letting me fall to the floor with a loud thud. I curse him angrily under my breath as I steadily get to my feet, readjusting my shirt, and dust myself off. His hand is pointing into the room, telling me to go first. I comply, sneering at him as I do.
There is no reason for him to bring me here to help him carry stuff. If he did, it’s not like I’d be much help anyway, I’m a doctor not a pirate heavily built with muscles. I pride myself on my speed and longevity, not my power. I scan over the bottles of liquor neatly organized on the racks in front of me. There’s hundreds. Most of these bottles are near undrinkable. Kid’s high alcohol tolerance certainly makes sure of this.
I look over my shoulder to see Killer leaning against the door, arms crossed and watching me silently. I can feel his eyes. Just as I anticipated, we’re here to talk.
“Kid has been acting off, so I asked him what happened.”
“Has he?” I rhetorically questioned, not bothering to pretend to be surprised.
“I’m here because he told me he told you.”
“Ah…fuck,” I mumble plopping my back against the wall. This is not the conversation I want to be having right now.
It’s true, he did. He told me a couple weeks ago that he was attracted to me. Whether it was emotionally or just physically is still unbeknownst to me. I never got the chance to ask, I was too busy helping Senior. I broke his foot after dropping a large box of medical supplies on him. I blame Kid for being impatient, insisting that I talk with him and not later in the evening as I asked. He stormed out seeing how much distress he put me in, not expecting me to react as badly as I did. Up till now I was hoping he had let it go after seeing how I reacted, but who am I kidding? It’s Kid, he doesn’t forget anything and he sure as hell won’t let anything go. When the man wants something, he will get it.
I was homeless when Kid and I met. He was across the street, watching a group of Marines harass me for hanging outside a bar suspiciously. I managed to uphold myself, messing with them in return claiming the Kids pirates just left town right under their noses. The idiots didn’t see the red haired captain behind them and took off in the direction I pointed them in. I was covering my own ass, but he was still equally amused enough to offer me a drink. The very same evening he invited me to become the ship's second doctor, insisting I would learn even after telling him I knew nothing about medicine. He never admits it, but it's obvious he’s had a soft spot for me since day one.
I have a crush on him, I can’t deny that fact, but I never thought about doing anything about it. My dedication is to the crew now. For the first time in years I’ve found stability in my life and I can’t lose that now. As much as I respect him, he’s not mature enough to take on the emotional responsibility of our emotions colliding. He didn’t even know how to respond when I broke down crying while drunk a few weeks back about my past. I stormed off, knowing it was no point opening up to him.
“You said you needed time, it’s been two weeks.”
I roll my eyes. “Why do you care so much?”
“For you? I don’t,” Killer retorts in a cold tone, my eyes narrow at the masked man. “Kid is my best-friend and captain, when I know something is bothering him, I’m going to deal with it.” I roll my eyes. “You have a bad habit of procrastinating, and with the upcoming events. I’d prefer Kid to have his head on right.”
He leans against the door, crossing his arms as he does. “So we won't leave until you agree to talk to him.”
I drop my mouth in awe, unable to believe that this man is entitled enough to parent me. “You’re treating me like a child!” Killer shrugs his shoulders carelessly. I scoff, throwing my hands in the air before crossing my arms over my chest. What an asshole.
“If you answered him sooner we wouldn’t be in this position.”
I grab one of the bottles of whiskey off the bottle rack and bite at the cork, ripping it out before spitting it onto the floor. I smack my back against the wall and slide down to the floor and take a large swig from the bottle, filling my mouth with the repugnant liquor. Being already partially intoxicated has made it easier, suppressing the need to gag. I can’t control the creasing of my face, smacking my lips in disgust, waiting for the flavour to fade.
I wipe my lips of the alcohol. “I… like Kid-” I tell the pirate. I hold the bottle out to him, inviting him to take a drink as well. He shifts slightly, hesitating to join me. He nods and walks over, pulling out a straw from a small packet in his jeans. I watch the bottle progressively empty a little more, taking his time. Oh god that’s disgusting, who drinks straight whiskey through a straw? I don’t look at him, the embarrassment of the situation alone is enough, having him stare me down makes this even harder. My head is on fire, I can feel the blood rushing to my face. Even in this dimly lit room he will notice the colour in my flushed cheeks. I’m not exactly in a sober state, maybe that can be my excuse.
“Yes?”
As I’m taking another swig, I nod, realizing I haven’t finished my point. I swallow the poison. “Kid is well… Kid.” I shrug my shoulders, now feeling my mood shift as the conversation continues. Is he capable of being the man I need or am I just filling my mind with fantasies? I’ve been homeless and alone for so long, I don’t want to lose this now.
“I just don’t believe he can take me seriously,” I roll my head back and look up to the masked man, awaiting for his response.
He shifts in his spot. “I guess you will have to find that out.
“You call yourself his best friend and you don’t know?”
Killer angrily hums at me. “The last time he liked a girl was when we were kids.”
The response irks me, making me think about the way he’s been acting, cold and definitely grumpier than usual. He’s been watching at me from across the deck during the day. I’ve been avoiding him knowing he has his patches, even pinning it to be his lack of sex. Now that Killer says this, it’s clear he’s been taking his dejected emotions out on me. I take a deep breath and grit my teeth, the building frustration is tensing all the muscles in my body. I ball my hand tightly into a closed fist, holding it to me, with my body continuously begging to punch something.
“Help me up... I’m… kinda drunk.”
He sticks his hands out with an open palm. I take it, grasping tightly to his coarse, callused skin, and begin to pull myself up. He yanks me from the floor effortlessly, letting me stumble to my feet, the alcohol makes it harder to catch myself.
“God,” I mumble standing myself up straight. “I keep forgetting how strong you are.” My head rushes for a second, feeling the room sway more than it should.
“I’m gonna tell him.” I declare on my way to the door. I throw it open, seeing all of the guys in front of me. They’ve been eavesdropping. I give them angry glares and stomp past them, taking another swig of the bottle as I do.
I approach the table, turning around to see the guys following me with hesitant looks on their faces. “Where’s my mug?”
“Why?” Heat questions.
“Because I lost the game, I need to finish what I owe.” I tell him. He nervously shakes his head at me, holding the mug to his chest.
“A-Are you sure? You seem drunk.” Heat hesitates, a worried smile cracks his lips.
“Give it.” I snap at him. He looks to me then the mug then to me again and hands it back. I down the remaining lager from my previous game. I look at my mug once empty and then put it on the table.
I can feel the whiskey hitting me now. The sudden shift of my intoxication hits me like a brick to the face. I catch myself, burping loudly once again, followed with another apology.
“Cheers.” I slur. Oscar was standing next to Heat, cocking an eyebrow at me. Someone rests their hand on my shoulder, I look up to see it’s Wire, silently asking me if I’m okay. I wave him off and shrug his hand away. I scan the deck, looking for the red haired man, he still hasn’t come out. Of course he hasn’t. I thought I was the one avoiding him, but it’s more obvious he’s been doing it to me. I make my way towards his bedroom door, with the guys quickly catching on. Haikei jumps in my path giving me a sweetened smile.
“Hey bud, where are you going?” He asks in an innocent tone. I may be intoxicated, but not enough to bear listening to that tone to help reason with the mindless drunk.
“You know exactly where, get the fuck out of my way,” I growl at him, “I’m not in the mood.”His sweetened smile diminishes and he obliges, stepping aside, looking perturbed.
I stand a few meters away from his door. I can feel the others behind me, many of them following behind me silently, watching for what I’m about to do. I stumble slightly, taking a small chug of the whiskey. I shift my grip on the bottle. I step back and swing forward, launching the bottle at his door. It smashes, the liquor exploding with it. I catch myself, almost stumbling to the floor again from launching the item.
“Are you crazy?” Haikei burst out to me.
“No, let her. She’s got her own behavior to deal with.” Killer interjects. Almost everyone is watching me now as I stand tall, waiting.
The door swings up, Kid’s angry expression emerges from the door, his large frame stepping onto the deck. His gaze quickly falls on me, knowing immediately it was me who had thrown the bottle at his door.
“You and I need to have a talk.” Part 2
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butterflies-dragons · 4 years
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Loved your post on the similarities between Jon and Waymar Royce and Sansa's preference in men. I would like to add something else on the table. The Royces have Stark blood through the maternal line. Catelyn even suggested to name them as a possible heir to Robb. So Sansa really has a thing for the Stark look. This might be incestuous in nature. But isn't there a phrase that women tend to fall for men who remind them of their father? In Sansa's case it's more literal than usual lmao
Hello there! 
Thank you very much ♡
You know, when I was writing my meta, I was suggested by @lostlittlesatellites, to write about the Royces with Stark blood, but I decided not to bring the subject up because we don’t really know who they are.
I know about what Catelyn said to Robb regarding the Stark relatives in the Vale: 
“Young, and a king,” he said. “A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her.” His mouth tightened. “To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north.”
“No,” Catelyn agreed. “You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son.” She considered a moment. “Your father’s father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest … it might have been a Templeton, but …”
“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”
She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”
“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”
“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”
“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”
He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”
“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”
“Precedent,” she said bitterly. “Yes, Aegon the Fourth legitimized all his bastards on his deathbed. And how much pain, grief, war, and murder grew from that? I know you trust Jon. But can you trust his sons? Or their sons? The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations, until Barristan the Bold slew the last of them on the Stepstones. If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again. Should he wed and breed, any sons you may have by Jeyne will never be safe.”
“Jon would never harm a son of mine.”
“No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?”
Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer’s crypt, his teeth bared. Robb’s own face was cold. “That is as cruel as it is unfair. Jon is no Theon.”
“So you pray. Have you considered your sisters? What of their rights? I agree that the north must not be permitted to pass to the Imp, but what of Arya? By law, she comes after Sansa … your own sister, trueborn …”
“… and dead. No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they’ll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North. I had hoped you would support my choice.”
“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this … this folly. Do not ask it.”
“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.
—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V
This passage is very interesting because Robb said: By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her.  But since Sansa was married to Tyrion Lannister, Robb had to name another heir.
This is a contrast with Jon.  Stannis use the same argument to convince Jon to accept his offer to be Lord of Winterfell, he called Sansa “Lady Lannister”, but no matter what, Jon didn’t accept it.  
“But, instead of Tyrion, Willas or even Robert, who pursue Sansa’s claim over her, there is a man that has been offered Winterfell and choose her over it. Among all the high lords interested in becoming the Lord of Winterfell by marrying Sansa Stark, the bastard Jon Snow refused to despoil his sister Sansa of her rights, even if her claim is the one thing he has wanted as much as he had ever wanted anything.”
“By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.”
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon I
Jon said, “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.”
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV
Robb and Catelyn were both pushing to prevent Sansa and Jon to get Winterfell, and ironically enough, I think that Sansa and Jon will be the Starks that will retake Winterfell.
Now, about who may be the Royces with Stark blood...
“Your father’s father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest … it might have been a Templeton, but …”
This means: Ned Stark’s father Rickard had no siblings, but Rickard’s father  Edwyle, had a sister Jocelyn who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch, Benedict Royce.  
Jocelyn Stark and Benedict Royce had three daughters:
Daughter 1 married an Unknown Waynwood
Daughter 2 married an Unknown Corbray
Daughter 3 might have married an Unknown Templeton
See? we really don’t know who the Royces with Stark blood are. We don’t even know if they have the Stark features. We don’t even know if they are still alive… 
Also take note that Jocelyn Stark married a Royce from the junior branch, called House Royce of the Gates of the Moon.  While Waymar Royce was from House Royce of Runestone. 
So I addressed the subject only with this line:   
The resemblance between the Starks and the Royces [of Runestone] maybe has to be with both houses being descendants of the First Men.
Now back to House Royce of the Gates of the Moon.
At this point in the books, the known Royces of the cadet branch are: Nestor Royce and his children: Albar and Myranda.  Imagine Myranda having a claim to Winterfell, Alayne will hate it…
Also imagine Lyn Corbray having a claim to Winterfell, Alayne will hate it even more…
About the Templetons, we don’t even know for sure if the third daughter of Jocelyn Stark and Benedict Royce married into House Templeton…
Now, about the Waynwoods, this is exactly why @lostlittlesatellites​ suggested me to write about the Royces with Stark blood, because at this point at the Books, Alayne is very linked with the Waynwoods. And even Harrold Hardyn’s mother was a Waynwood! Imagine Harry the Heir having not only a claim to the Vale but also to Winterfell!  Alayne will like this scenario a bit more… This is unlikely,  but it was funny to think about it… 
Harry the Heir doesn’t have the Stark Look tho.  But his Waynwood cousins do. So they could be the descendants of Jocelyn Stark and Benedict Royce.  Let see:
In the first Alayne chapter of the Winds of Winter, Sansa meets the Waynwoods and Harry the Heir:
“Lady Myranda. Lady Alayne.” Anya Waynwood inclined her head to each of them in turn. “It is good of you to greet us. Allow me to present my grandson, Ser Roland Waynwood.” She nodded at the knight who had spoken. “And this is my youngest son, Ser Wallace Waynwood.  And of course my ward, Ser Harrold Hardyng.”
(…)
Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses.  Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought.
—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I
Ser Roland Waynwood and Ser Wallace Waynwood have three features that match the Stark Look:
Both long-faced
Both horsefaced
Both have [stringy] brown hair 
Sansa/Alyane doesn’t find the Waynwoods attractive tho, not like she fancied Ser Waymar Royce. Maybe this have to be with their other features: lantern-jawed and pinched noses.
The lack of attraction to the Waynwoods was another reason why I didn’t bring this subject up in my meta.          
In contrast, the Waynwoods seems pretty attracted to Sansa/Alayne:
“Had we known such beauty awaited us at the Gates, we would have flown,” Ser Roland said. Though his words were addressed to Myranda Royce, he smiled at Alayne as he said them.
“To fly you would need wings,” Randa replied, “and there are some knights here who might have a thing to say concerning that.”
“I look forward to a spirited discussion.” Ser Roland swung down from his horse, turned to Alayne, and smiled. “I had heard that Lord Littlefinger’s daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief.”
“You wrong me, ser. I am no thief!”
Ser Roland placed his hand over his heart. “Then how do you explain this hole in my chest, from where you stole my heart?”
“He is only t-teasing you, my lady,” stammered Ser Wallace. “My n-n-nephew never had a h-h-heart.”
“The Waynwood wheel has a broken spoke, and we have my nuncle here.” Ser Roland gave Wallace a whap behind the ear. “Squires should be quiet when knights are speaking.”
Ser Wallace reddened.  “I am no more a s-squire, my lady. My n-nephew knows full well that I was k-k-kni-k-k-kni –“
“Dubbed?” Alayne suggested gently.
“Dubbed,” said Wallace Waynwood, gratefully.
Robb would be his age, if he were still alive, she could not help but think, but Robb died a king, and this is just a boy.
—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I
And about that phrase you mentioned: “women tend to fall for men who remind them of their father,” it is true that the Asoiaf Books have plenty of incestuous undertones with the Targaryens, Cersei and Jaime, Asha and Theon, Crater and his daughters, etc. But in the case of the Starks, GRRM uses the pseudo-incest trope. After all, Jon and Arya, that are lookalikes, were intended to be in love in the so called “original outline”.
We also have the issue of the First love’s Resemblance: Sansa fell wildly in love with Ser Waymar, and Jon fell in love with a wildling girl kissed by fire.
Waymar Royce looked like a Stark. Waymar Royce was Jon’s lookalike. And Jon is Ned lookalike:
Riding through the rainy night, Ned saw Jon Snow’s face in front of him, so like a younger version of his own. 
—A Game of Thrones - Eddard IX
More about it here.
And Jon’s first love was Ygritte, a redhead, with blue-grey eyes, and to make the Tully look even more evident, Ygritte called herself half a fish:
“Ygritte punched his arm. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. I’m half a fish, I’ll have you know.”
—A Storm of Swords - Jon V
Sansa’s first crush having the Stark Look and Jon’s first lover having the Tully look, reminds me of Catelyn being first betrothed with Brandon Stark but marrying Eddard Stark instead.  Brandon, died like Waymar.  Ned said Jon’s is a younger version of himself.  Ned never imagined marrying Catelyn, he had a young infatuation with Ashara Dayne, but he never acted on his feelings for her, and she died.  Ned also killed Ashara’s brother Arthur.  
Sansa fell wildly in love with Waymar, but she won’t marry him, he died.  She will probably fall in love with Jon in a more mature and calmly way.  Jon Snow, after a non-con beginning, ended loving Ygritte, not a lady, that offered him a “comfort level of femininity”, but he won’t marry her, she died.  Jon will probably fell in love with Sansa, freely and willingly.    
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bard-llama · 3 years
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Black King, White Knight (New Fic Universe)
I have a new ship and it’s all @useless-empty-brain‘s fault! This started out as an Iorveth/Roche fic, but now it’s turned into an Isengrim series featuring Isengrim/Eldain.
Warnings: The first fic has some really, really dubious consent stuff going on. If that bothers you, please don’t continue, ‘cause it’s... pretty sketch. In a porny and feelingsy way.
First fic: title is gonna be something about tarnished iron, i think
Okay, so I thought this was just going to be the one fic, but apparently not. So the first fic’s focus is on Iorveth/Roche, buuuut Isengrim shows up and actually rescues them from a swarm of drowners. But then Isengrim turns to Roche and Iorveth, thinking fast, claims Roche as his prisoner - which Isengrim interprets as “pet”, because otherwise, why hasn’t he been killed or sold yet? Then Isengrim offers to help train Iorveth’s pet.
They go to an abandoned cabin (where rorveth were actually headed to maybe bone for the first time), but it’s all turned sideways. Especially when Isengrim pulls up a chair and asks Iorveth to fuck his pet in front of him so that Isengrim could help with any needed disciplining. (Remember the dubcon part? yeah, that’s this part)
After Roches comes untouched, crying on Iorveth’s cock, Isengrim goes out to get firewood or something and when he returns, he overhears Iorveth sounding wretched as he apologizes to Roche. Then the worst part: Iorveth says he’s scared of Isengrim and that’s why he couldn’t stand up and object.
Understandably, Isengrim is heartbroken. He’d come by wanting to see his old friend (and old lover) and even with the best of intentions, he still managed to hurt Iorveth. What kind of monster is so scary that they maim without meaning to?
He apologizes to Iorveth, for what it’s worth, and leaves them to their own devices. Except that leaves us with an Isengrim who is firmly castigating himself and knows that if even Iorveth, his former friend and lover (and previous 2nd in command, I think) fears him, then he must truly be unloveable.
Second fic: title is something about the shine of bright iron through layers of tarnish
While Isengrim is depressed, there’s still a war going on and the Scoia’tael are still fighting. And some of them are fighting a little too brutally for the others tastes, so they send Isengrim, as a Scoia’tael veteran and revered leader, to talk some sense into the crazy fucker in Moulderwood aka Eldain, the one time merchant and musician, now a hardened Scoia’tael commander. 
Not sure what exactly their meeting is like, but as time goes on, Isengrim finds himself impressed with this dude who may actually be crueler than he is, but for practical reasons that Isengrim can understand and endorse. Additionally, Eldain isn’t the slightest bit scared of him, instead teasing him in front of the men and poking fun at him and looking entirely delighted when Isengrim pokes fun back (but like, in a refined way). 
Somehow this leads to them getting together or maybe just the hint of it? Idk we could do full porn and accidental feelings now, OR we could wait until after the pain to actually get together.
Third fic: okay idk what the title for this one should be. Something about the way polished metal is stronger or shines brighter or something
I mentioned the pain, yeah? Yeah, this is the pain. THRONEBREAKER SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
Right so, I have not actually finished Thronebreaker but what happens (AGAIN, HUGE SPOILER WARNING) is that Meve can either respect Eldain’s wishes and show him mercy and bury him after his death. Or she can be just as merciless as he was and leave his body to be fed upon by vultures and shit. 
Now of course, we can’t just have it end that way, not in this house. So OBVIOUSLY everyone lives. But first everyone needs to find out that everyone is, indeed, alive.
By which I mean - actually, huh, maybe this part should be Eldain’s POV? could be interesting. But anyway, Isengrim spirals ‘cause like, the one dude that never feared him is now rumored to be dead and Isengrim can’t admit that his heart hurts, but his chest aches and he just - he finds that he needs to see the body. He needs to KNOW that Eldain is actually gone.
Except there is no body. Idk exactly how Isengrim finds Eldain, but Eldain is in pretty bad shape. Fortunately, Isengrim expected that and packed appropriate medical supplies.
This all leads to them shacking up somewhere as Isengrim learns that his bloody hands can also be used to heal and Eldain gets to recover from losing his whole command with someone who understands and through it all, Eldain’s physical body heals. This, of course, leads to getting together PROPER LIKE now, with actual communication and shit.
Fourth fic: oh man, idk. Something about striking tempered steel or some shit, idk
This fic is the comic relief fic lol. Basically, I have a great need for the awkward as fuck reunion of Iorveth and Roche with Isengrim - who now has Eldain along for the ride as well. And Eldain does NOT like Roche, and Roche does NOT like Isengrim and Iorveth and Isengrim are still pretty awkward and Iorveth and Eldain are in that weird space of ‘you’re his former lover and I’m his current one’ and idk, maybe work out some tension through a music off, because why not?
Fifth fic: okay, actually, this one might be a standalone, not sure. idk on the title, but it would be a pwp
So Roche has been the only commander in the north to really prove to be a thorn in the Scoia’tael’s side. So when the Scoia’tael manage to capture Vernon Roche? Well, a little payback is only fair, right?
Cue cnc gangbang?
Yeah, idk anything else about this one, it’s just porn.
So yeah, that’s my new fic universe. If I’m lucky, I’ll actually finish the first part sometime this century 😔
But, in the meantime, if you haven’t considered Isengrim/Eldain before, you absolutely have to go check out @useless-empty-brain’s fics:
Five Cheesy Pick Up Lines That Didn’t Work (And One That Did)
Summary: For a Reason of State, Eldain finds himself following Iorveth to an old Blue Stripes safe house in Farcorners to assist in a plot to assassinate the King of Redania. He expected to actually work on the said assassination plot, not watch Iorveth and Roche flirt terribly with each other. What's a poor elf to do in that situation but drink with the only other sane person in the house. And if that person is Isengrim Faoiltiarna so what? So what if the Iron Wolf is also terrible at flirting? So what if his cheesy pickup lines are sweeter than they are cheesy? So. What?
Not To Control The Wind
Summary: When he received the missive from Dol Blathanna, Isengrim wasn't sure what to expect, but watching the small council dissolve into snarled threats wasn’t what he would have guessed would happen. When it becomes obvious that they'll all grow old and die before anything can be agreed upon, Isengrim takes it upon himself to offer a 'helping hand' in controlling Eldain's mouth. It escalates from there.
Lay Me Down on a Bed of Roses
Summary: "You made flowers bloom in my lungs and although they are beautiful, I can't breathe." - Anonymous
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amelialincoln · 3 years
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Happier
To say Amelia was a coffee addict was a fair statement and Link would frequently remind her of that. Not exactly in those words, of course. But he’d begun to get used to her cute grumpiness that she started each morning with until she’d finished her first cup of brown liquid straight from heaven. Her words, not his.
 His girlfriend had surprised him through the pregnancy. Barely complaining about the lack of caffeine she was allowed to have. He knew it pissed her off, but to his surprise she drank her decaf and sulked in silence. Amelia, however, was not aware that caffeine was still a no no when breastfeeding. Carina had burst her bubble when Amelia came sauntering into work with a thermos that seemed to hold a litre of her favourite drink. Link thought she might rip Carina’s head off as she shoved the thermos into his hands and stormed off, yelling at him to enjoy it for her. Link only drank black coffee. The sugary stuff that Amelia liked made him want to hurl. That was something he wasn't expecting. You’d think a woman who could chug vodka like water, again her words, not his, would tolerate a cup of black coffee. “Morning princess,” he called to her sarcastically, trying to hide his amusement as Amelia trudged into the kitchen. Her hair practically stood out on end, as if she’d been electrocuted.
“Shut the fuck up,” she growled, coming to sit at the kitchen island and burrowing her head in her hands. Jake, named after Addison’s husband, had been giving the couple grief. As easy as their baby boy had been, his eating schedule was what was driving them both crazy. Jake had trouble latching and would throw a tantrum if Amelia would try to coax him into it. When he wanted it, he wanted it and when he didn’t there was no use trying. Therefore, the couple was left trying almost every hour in an attempt to keep their son from becoming underweight. According to his mother, Link had similar problems growing up. So in Amelia’s mind, it was all his fault. The whole situation left Amelia’s chest sore and her being completely exhausted from being up all night with him. Link tried to take care of Jake when he would wake up but Amelia always wanted to try and feed him just in case it was the reason for his crying.
“You get him on this morning?” He passed her a bowl of cereal and spooned his own into his mouth.
“What do you think?” She grumbled.
“We could try formula?” He offered. It was something Carina had been suggesting to the pair.
“My mother says all of her kids turned out so smart because she nursed us until we were two years old. Jake’s two months.” Was always her argument. She stirred the cereal, unappetizing.
“I know babe, but you’re exhausted. I’m surprised you haven’t fallen asleep over someone’s brain.” He received a glare for that one.
“I’ve lived on a surgeon’s sleep schedule for years. I’m getting more sleep than I did as an intern. If my chest weren’t so damn sore,” she messaged an especially tender spot and winced. “I’m also worried about him. Carina said he should be twelve pounds.”
“He’s only just shy of that,” Link assured her, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “And remember what my mom said? I turned out okay.”
“True,” Amelia sighed, spooning another bite of soggy cheerios into her mouth. “I have an aneurysm at nine, can you take him to daycare?”
“Of course.” He nodded, watching her head bob as she closed her eyes momentarily. “You have a baby and only clip aneurysms from now on?” He teased. That woke her up.
“Operating on another toe today, babe?” She never got enough of the superiority complex that being chief of neuro gave her. Link shrugged, just happy to see her face light up for a change.
“Probably.” He kissed her forehead lightly, pulling her into a quick hug. “I’ll go grab our little guy and get him in his car seat. Are you ready to go in like ten?”
“Yep.”
Link did not have a toe operation today, despite Amelia’s predictions. Instead he was greeted with a partial amputation first thing in the morning. It had woken him up, to say the least. The guy worked at some cedar mill just outside of Seattle and the saw had chopped his hand off two thirds of the way through. They’d decided to bring the guy to Grey Sloan since Link was building quite a good reputation on the west coast. He could practically hear Amelia going on about her reputation being heard of from across the entire country. One might think that Link would be upset about his partner’s success surpassing his own. She definitely earned more than him. According to Amelia, that had been an apparent issue in many of her old relationships. However, as the orthopedic surgeon had told Deluca once before, he had no problem with her being better than him. If anything it was nice to have his girlfriend be just as much of a workaholic as himself. He loved bones and even if the surgeries he usually performed weren’t considered groundbreaking, he didn’t care since he was doing something he loved. It made him happy to see that Amelia shared that love for her own field. It brought them closer together if anything.
“Are we good to go?” Hunt broke Link’s train of thought. He was supposed to be observing the resident that was suturing up the revised wrist. Perez glanced at Link expectantly and Link noticed that he had finished closing the entire incision.
“Yeah, sorry.” He shook his head, tiredly. The operation had worn him out. “Great job, everyone.” He could tell Perez was grinning through his mask, his eyes lit up at the idea of impressing his attending. Link hadn't taught much before moving to Grey Sloan and didn’t give out a whole lot of praise unless he really meant it. He had grown to enjoy the resident, despite how much he never seemed to keep his mouth shut. Link stepped into the scrub room and gently cleansed his hands under the hot water. Finally able to check his phone, he replied to a couple messages from his friends and noticed he hadn’t heard from Amelia. He was pretty sure her aneurysm would be done by now. She was probably in the daycare visiting Jake. However, as Link finally reached the day nursery he was told that Amelia had not come by and that Jake was sleeping. Not wanting to wake the baby, Link thanked the worker and headed down to the ER. No luck there either. He ran into Maggie, who apparently hadn’t seen her sister either. After about an hour of roaming the hospital halls, he realized there was one place he hadn’t looked. Cursing himself for his stupidity he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the door of Amelia’s office. Hearing no reply he turned the knob. The room was dimly lit and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. When they did he found Amelia curled up in a ball on her couch, fast asleep.
“There you are,” he whispered, admiring her for a moment. She’d thrown her hair into a messy braid in the car on the way to the hospital and it was barely still together. Her cheek was smushed into the hand she was lying on. He noticed a throw pillow lying on the floor. She’d most likely ended up chucking it because, as he knew extremely well, those pillows were hard as rock. He cautiously climbed onto the couch beside her. From trial and error they’d found a couple positions in which they could both fit on the couch lying down. Both sexual and non sexual. He pulled her onto his chest and relaxed into the soft cushions.
“Hi,” Amelia mumbled groggily. She rubbed her nose on his scrub top, laughing as he shoved her in mock disgust. He glanced at her noticing that her nose was a shade of red that it wasn’t that morning. “Aw, babe, are you getting sick?”
“No,” her voice was scratchy and he raised an eyebrow. “I forgot to dust the couch, my allergies are raging but I’m too tired to care.” She shrugged as Link examined her puffy eyes.
“You should take a benadryl,” he advised her, passing her a tissue from the box on the table. She groaned in response to him sitting up.
“I just wanna sleep,” she complained. “I was doing fantastic till you came and woke me up.”
“Fine.” Link lay back down, chuckling as Amelia grinned and cuddled up to him. “Doesn’t take much to make you happy.”
“Just brain tumors, cuddles and…” she trailed off, forgetting the third thing that she listed off frequently as her favourite things.  
“Coffee,” he reminded her, rolling his eyes.
“Fuck,” her eyes rolled back as if the mere idea of the drink was somehow pleasuring her. Link squirmed, momentarily realizing that he was jealous of a cup of coffee.  He glanced at her to find her watching him with amusement.
“Maybe I should change the last one to my extremely hot boyfriend,” she teased, laughing as his head bobbed in response.
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