#which means merlin is now all alone and glaring at me

[tomriddleslove]

Pt 4 - Drunk words are sober thoughts.

✩ Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: The one where Pansy organises a dinner party, you’re on the run from Theo, and bad decisions are made. Alternatively: Uncomfortable awkward tension, then smut.

A/N: We aren’t out of the trenches yet. We’ve only dug ourselves deeper with this one.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Please let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the tag list!

MDNI!

Tags: Smut (duh),Drunk sex, PIV, Hair pulling, praise.

Songs: Love survive - Michael Nau

Star Treatment - Arctic Monkeys

The sun filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting an almost heavenly glow on your bed. The warmth was soothing, and you’d almost call it a very peaceful morning.

That is, of course, if you weren’t woken by Pansy yanking the covers off you, tossing them to the side.

You groan sleepily, rolling over as you try to shield your eyes.

“Oh come on! Merlin, you've been asleep for so long! Everyone else is up! I refuse to let you spend all holiday rotting in bed.” She nags, grabbing your arm as she tries to pull you up. You let your body go limp, the dead weight pulling you back onto the bed as you use your free hand to pull a pillow over your head.

“You know Pansy, have you ever considered my idea of a holiday is sleeping in all day?” You mumble and she tuts, grabbing the pillow from you.

“Nonsense. I’ll kill you if we don't make the most of this.”She admonishes, faffing around you like a mother hen as she walks around your shared room with Theodore (who notably wasn't there, his bed made.) She opens your closet and takes the liberty of choosing you an outfit as she flicks through your clothing, speaking again.

“We're going to celebrate the start of this beautiful Holiday I have so kindly provided us with. We’re making dinner and having a small dinner party. Nice clothes, naturally. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore will be making the starters, and Draco, Blaise and I will be making the main, which means you’re in charge of dessert. Consider it a penalty for waking so late.” Pansy explained as she crouched down to sort through your other clothes.

You grumble, muttering childishly under your breath as you sit up, on the edge of your bed as you come to your senses.

“I'm putting poison in yours.” You half-joke, and she isn't phased as she tosses you a floral white sundress and a handful of jewellery. You dodge the assortment of gold sent towards you and you glare at her.

“There. You’ll have to change for dinner but this is good for now. We’re all downstairs, but I sent some of the boys to fetch the ingredients. Chop chop!” She calls out, as she descends down the stairs.

Pansy. She truly tested your patience.

You manage to drag yourself up from the warm confines of your bed as you head over to the bathroom, going to take a shower. You walk past Theodore's bed as you do so, and you see his copy of Little Women lying on his bedside table. Curiosity tugs at you.

It would be bad to take a peek, right? I mean, he did hand it to you that day in the library. Granted, he took it back right after, but surely that implied you could take a look.

You (rather weakly) justify your decision and pick up the book, thumbing through the pages as your eyes scan over the various annotations and underlined passages Theodore had analysed.

One in certain catches your attention. There, messily underlined, is the quote:

“Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.”

Followed by “No. 4” scrawled in Theodore's handwriting. You frown, confusion etched on your face as you try to decipher what the four could possibly mean. You flick through the rest of the book, trying to spot any other instances.

“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”

No. 7

I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, - couldn't help it, you've been so good to me, - I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me; now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer.

No. 5

You couldn't seem to find any rhyme or reason for this labelling. It was simply random parts of the text underlined every now and then with a number next to them, as though some sort of list. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you're itching to look for more when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs snaps you out of it. You quickly shut the book, placing it back down as you grab your dress and towel, dashing into the bathroom. You just manage to lock the bathroom door when you hear the door to your room click open, and you let out a small breath of relief. Your mind is working tirelessly, trying to decipher the cryptic annotations as you take a shower.

You finish off and get dressed in the bathroom, taking your time to avoid Theodore. By your luck, when you unlock the bathroom door and peer out the small gap, Theodore is not there, and you let out a small sigh as you step out.

You put on the jewellery Pansy set out for you and slip on some socks, combing through your wet hair as you dry it lightly. Satisfied with how you looked (you did feel rather pretty, in all honesty), you make your way downstairs.

The kitchen is empty, save for Blaise putting the groceries away into the fridge. You grin as you walk over to join him, his eyes flickering over to you as you walk in.

“Morning. You got your rest, didn't you?” He teases and you shoot him a mocking smile, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” You sigh as you reach for the second bag, helping him put everything away.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask.

“Pansy and Lorenzo went out to get drinks, and I'm pretty sure the rest found some sort of creek or something so I think they went out for a swim,” Blaise says and you hum, nodding.

Come to think of it, you had completely forgotten about the rather surprising development between Blaise and Pansy. You and Lorenzo had bet on it as well. Deciding to pay Pansy back the favour, you begin probing into their little dilemma.

“So Blaise, tell me. What's going on between you and Pansy?” You ask, and he chokes on the coffee he was sipping as he sets the cup down. You open one of the cupboards, storing away a packet of pasta as he looks at you.

“What do you mean?” He responded, and a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Oh come on, don't act all shy now. This whole flirting thing you have going on.” You say, vaguely motioning in his direction as you put some fruits in the fruit bowl resting on the kitchen island.

“There's nothing. Just friend.” He denies, and you turn to him, resting against the island.

“Sure. Just one thing? You're both stubborn fools. Don't let that prevent anything.” You advise, looking at him. You grab an apple, tossing it into the air before catching it as you walk past Blaise, patting him on the back.

“Right now, out. I need to start prepping the dessert.” You say, and for the first time in your life, you see Blaise ever so slightly red.

He playfully grins as he walks out, and you tie your damp hair up as you look through what the boys bought.

You settle on a classic after taking note of the copious amounts of cream cheese the boys had bought (You were reminded to never ever ask them to go shopping, and you'd be sure to remind Pansy the same.)

A salted caramel cheesecake. You decided to make the biscuit base yourself - it would serve as a good way to pass the time seeing as you had the whole day to yourself.

Before you begin cooking, you wander over to the living room. Your eyes settle on a collection of vinyl records in the corner, and you sift through the sleeves, settling on one that doesn't look immediately terrible.

You carefully place the vinyl onto the turntable, the soft crackle of the needle hitting the record filling the room. The sound of a smooth jazz melody starts playing, creating a cosy atmosphere in the kitchen. As the music envelops the space, you begin gathering the ingredients for the biscuit base.

You preheat the oven and begin making the biscuits, sifting flour into the bowl as you work. It's surprisingly relaxing, the villa is empty and you're left to your own devices, humming along to the music as you bake. Sure, you definitely weren't the cleanest baker. A simple biscuit recipe had left you with a white powder coating over the kitchen, stacks of bowls in the sink and somehow, flour on your clothes as well. You huff, dusting down your dress as you place the haphazardly shapen uncooked biscuits into the oven. It didn't matter whether they looked good or not - you'd be crushing them anyway.

It only takes about 15 minutes before the delicious aroma of vanilla fills the kitchen, You're admittedly pleased at just how good they smell, and you can only hope they taste as good as they smell.

Whilst those finish off, you begin making the actual filling of the cake. You reach for one of the bowls when a certain song begins playing, your ears perking up at the sound.

“This is my conquering song

played on a wave so strong

pulled the broke-down ride for far too long”

You lightly sing along to the lyrics, a small smile tugging on your lips as you do so. You had always imagined this song to be blissfully domestic, something you'd willingly play if you were to cook or bake, so the fact you selected it by chance made you oddly happy.

Sometimes it was the little things that count.

With a little pep in your step, you walk around the kitchen as you gather the ingredients. Liberated by the villa having no other occupants, your movements are freer, a small little (unnecessary) spin or a little break to sing along as you cook.

Now, it had been long established that you really did not have the best awareness of your surroundings. This continued to be the case now because you were sure you would have stopped immediately if you had seen Theodore leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, looking over at you.

Unfortunately for you, you did not notice him.

Theodore leans against the doorway, his eyes fixated on you. They always would be, he couldn't not look at you even if he tried to.

A fond smile is tugging at his lips, watching as you lightly sing along to the song. It's offkey, and your impromptu dance moves incorporated with your haphazard baking skills is laughable, but Theodore can only look at you and feel simultaneously so happy yet also so terrified. Terrified because he acknowledges how such a simple sight can't get that smile off his face, and the fact someone has the capability of doing that to him seems daunting. He was scared because, for a brief second, he imagined walking over and helping you. You'd look up at him with that smile of yours.

God, that smile.

You have that little impish look in your eyes, ready to poke fun at him. He does the same with you. The worst thing is if he hadn't fucked up so royally, you could have been doing that.

Instead, he pushes off the doorway to go and help you. The first part goes as expected, you see him and you yelp, spinning around. He knew your ears would turn red, as they usually did when you got embarrassed. Theodore knew you like that.

He knew you'd look at him akin to a deer caught in headlights because your mind would go blank for a second. Theodore knew you like that.

He also knew you well enough to know that, despite his own hopes of your once confused and mortified face breaking into a wide grin, it would instead fall and you would avert your eyes.

Theodore knew you like that.

He hated it.

“Oh. Hey.” You utter, clearing your throat. You berated yourself for always acting so obviously on edge when Theodore was near. He looks down at you with an indescribable look in his eyes before he speaks.

“Hey. Need help?” He asks, and you look around at the messy kitchen, before shaking your head.

You actually did, but you'd be damned if you had to spend more time with Theodore, alone. You'd either end up dead silent or stammering some embarrassing declaration. You couldn't tell which one would be worse.

“Alright.” He mused, looking down at you. He doesn't make any move to leave though, and you're hyper-aware of the fact that he is very close to you.

His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face gently as his thumb brushes against your cheekbone. His hand is there for a second too long, crossing the boundary of what it should have been. Again, it seemed as though everything you and Theodore did crossed that boundary.

“You had flour on your cheek,” he says, and you nod, drawing away your face. You turn around, praying to the gods above that they'd stop torturing you and make Theodore leave. You keep your back to him as you continue cooking, and he seems to finally leave, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You hasten your cooking after that and you're out of the kitchen in no less than 20 minutes with the cheesecake stored in the fridge as you make your way to Pansy’s room. You absolutely would not go back up to yours, as you were sure Theodore was there.

Exactly how long did you plan on running from him?

Hours have passed lazing away on Pansy’s bed, bored out of your mind when she finally returns.

“Finally.” You sassed, sitting up as she raised a brow at you.

“Why are you waiting here?” She asks, and you shrug.

“Can I not miss my friend?” You quip and she eyes you, knowing there must be another reason. She chooses not to probe further, however, joining you on her bed.

“We ought to get ready. I did tell the boys to dress nicely, we’re dignified people.”She chided as she got up, walking over to her closet.

You giggle at her swift change of actions and lean back on her bed, looking over at Pansy.

Her love for micromanaging you often was a negative, but now it could very much be a huge positive.

“Pans… You always know just how to style me right. Can you run up to my room and choose a look for me? I'm hopeless.” You groan, putting your hand on your chin in an exaggerated display of hopelessness. Her eyes light up, as though she was a little kid playing dress up, and she nods.

“Finally, you've come to your senses! I know exactly what I'm getting, wait here.” She gasps, scampering upstairs. You grin, having successfully avoided Theodore once again.

(The answer to the previous question? You'd run from him for a very long time, seemingly.)

Despite her reassurances, Panys arrives a solid half an hour later, a scarlet lace dress clutched in her hands. An impulse buy, the dress was shorter than what you usually wore. It had a fitted bodice but a flowy skirt, though it only reached your upper thigh. The long sleeves that extended down into flowy bell sleeves had to be your favourite feature of it, alongside the bustier style bodice at the front. She grins as she passes over the dress, alongside a pair of black boots.

“Dressed nicely but not too fancy. Plus I've been dying to see you wear this, so up and change.” She demands, pushing you up. You grin lightly at her antics as you take the dress, disappearing into the bathroom to change. You run your hands down your body as you admire yourself in the mirror. A hell of a good impulse buy, the dress looked incredible. The low cut was far out of your comfort zone but boundaries were meant to be pushed, right?

(No, they were not.)

Pansy gasps as you step out, pulling you over as she admires the dress, words of praise leaving her lips.

“You look so good! Oh my god, wear this everywhere.” She gushes, and you smile shyly.

“Thanks, Pans. Really. And you look incredible too, like positively mouthwatering,” You say and she grins, doing a small twirl in her satin black dress. After styling your hair and doing some light makeup, you make your way over to the dining room, which had already been set up beautifully.

The table, adorned with a crisp white tablecloth, is set meticulously with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and porcelain plates. A centrepiece of fresh flowers in varying shades of red and white adds a touch of elegance, their fragrance mingling with the soft glow of candles placed strategically around the room.

Pansy's attention to detail is evident in every aspect of the setup. Delicate linen napkins, folded artfully, rest atop each plate. You begin to feel excited for the evening, walking over to the kitchen as you look for everyone else. Theodore, Lorenzo and Mattheo are all in the kitchen, sorting panicking over the starters as they rush around like headless chickens. You step in and Lorenzo spots you, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“Wow wow wow. Look at who we have here.” Lorenzo says admiringly, calling over the attention of the other two boys. You grin, ironically doing a small little pose to shake away the awkwardness of their gazes on you.

“Stunning!” Mattheo announces, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he ruffles your hair. You groan with disdain as you jab him in the side.

“Ow!” Mattheo complains, letting go as he frowns, rubbing his side.

“The bloody devil, you are.” He mumbles, glaring at you, A small laugh escapes your lips.

You affectionately pat him on the cheek, before turning to Lorenzo.

“What do you need help with?” You ask them, and Lorenzo shakes his head.

“Nothing. You go and rest, we’ll come serve them soon.” He says, and you nod.

You've been avoiding Theodore's gaze the whole time you've been in here, but you stupidly can't resist looking up at him and instantly regret it when he staring at you so intently. His eyes meet yours and he seemingly snaps out of it, swallowing harshly.

You quickly walk back to the dining room.

A solid 4 hours or so later, you're all lounging in the living room, stomachs full with what was a surprisingly good meal. Whilst the starters were good, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had really knocked it out of the park with the main, a mouthwateringly good risotto that you helped yourself twice to. The cheesecake seemed to be a crowd-pleaser though, with Draco having three slices.

With a glass of whiskey loosely held in your hand, you take a sip, leaning back into the couch. Whilst you tried to fit the aesthetic and sip some wine, you couldn't bear the taste and (truthfully) wanted to get drunk tonight.

It was a lazy and subdued atmosphere, and you didn't even notice Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Mattheo all retiring back to their rooms. You yawn as you get up, stumbling slightly (you had drunk quite a bit actually). You sleepily bid goodnight to the remaining two ( as vaguely as possible because god forbid you say Theodore's name) and make your way upstairs (in one piece.)

You walk into your room and kick off your boots, wandering over to your bed as you begin taking off your jewellery. You look up a mere few seconds later when Theodore walks in, seemingly equally as drunk as he looks at you. He shuts the door, yawning as he pulls off his knitted jumper, leaving him with his white t-shirt on. He throws his sweater somewhere to the side as he flops down onto his bed with a sigh, rummaging through his pockets as he produces a lighter. You can't help but openly stare at him as he does so, alcohol freeing you of what little inhibitions you had.

Something about the sight of Theodore laying on his bed, lazily smoking a cigarette with his slightly messy hair and those damn eyes….

You could see his muscles shift every time he brought the cigarette up to his lips, and you didn't realise smoking could be so erotic.

For some awfully stupid reason, really I mean, you had to question your own sanity, you get up, walking over to Theodore. You're alarmingly quiet as you approach him, and don't say a word as you stand there. His eyes flicker up to you, and suddenly you realise:

Alcohol + tension + two rash people

Is not a very good mix.

You reach down, plucking the cigarette from his fingers. Theodore observes you with a small smile, those sinful eyes of his boring into you as you take a drag, before passing the cigarette back to him.

“He was right,” Theodore says after a second, looking up at you, You tilt your head. If you were already slow at making these connections, the alcohol only made it worse.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“Mattheo. You did look stunning today.” Theodore says, voice low.

Instead of doing what you usually did (some awful combination of looking away, panicking or just remaining quiet), a lazy smirk tugs at your lips as you look down at Theodore.

“Yeah?” You question, and you're 100% sure you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Theodore's eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face as he absorbs your murmured words.

Tentatively, as though testing the waters, he sits up, back propped up against the headboard as he looks up at you. His hand tugs at the sleeve of your dress, pulling you down, His hand rests on the curve of your hip, massaging light circles, and you go dizzy at the feeling.

You make no effort to move.

Rather, in a bold surge of confidence that quite literally materialised from nowhere, you swing your leg over Theodore's lap, straddling him. His hands immediately find their place on your hips, as though they're meant to be there, and he's looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

You knew this was a bad idea, but the alcohol spoke prettier words than your rationale did.

“You certainly know how to make an impression.” He murmurs his fingers trailing lightly along your thigh. You resist the urge to shudder at his touch, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he touches you. You lean closer, admiring the features of his face as you speak, mere inches away from one another.

“Well, I had someone to impress.” You say. He lets out a small, wry laugh, though he's far too consumed with looking at you.

Close the gap. Do it.

You do.

With a surge of hunger, your hands fist his shirt, pulling him in. His hand cups the back of your head as he meets your lips in a passionate kiss, mouths melding together. He holds you tightly, his grip both possessive and comforting at the same time.

The bulge of his clothed cock presses against your wetness, grinding against you with a desperate need. A small meek escapes your lips and it’s as though Theodore immediately swallows the sound, tongue slipping into your mouth as you continue to make out. It’s simultaneously lazy yet desperate - hungry.

"Fuck," Theodore murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desire. "You're driving me insane." He mutters, trailing open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan, arching your back as you tilt your head back, giving him easier access. He wastes no time in sucking and kissing the delicate skin of your neck, tongue soothing the places he nips at you, your skin blossoming red and purple.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips tracing along the swell of your breasts. A low groan escapes your lips, hands coming up to thread through his hair. You tug lightly and feel him smile against your neck. With deliberate slowness, he undoes the lace on the back of your dress as he continues to press sloppy kisses to your skin, undoing the top as he tugs it down. He pulls back, eyes hungrily taking in the sight.

He flips you over with alarming ease, pinning you down onto the mattress as he hovers above you, holding your hands down by the side of your head as he begins kissing down your neck to your breasts.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, large hands coming up to cup one of them, the other holding your hands in place. He squeezes one of your nipples, pinching the bud lightly between his fingers as you gasp, arching off the bed. The sound is music to his ears, and he grins, his eyes remaining on you as he leans down and takes the other one into his mouth, tongue running over the sensitive bud as he pulls away, blowing lightly.

The contrast sends you into a haze, and a whimper escapes your lips. Theodore wants to devour the sound, he simply can’t get enough.

“Do you know how fucking long you’ve been on my mind?” He mutters, voice laced with desperation as he leans back down to kiss you, bulge grinding against your clothed cunt in a way that had you desperate for more. You can’t even formulate a response, because you’re all too consumed by Theodore. Everything about him.

He sits up slightly, hands resting on your thigh as he runs his hands up and down, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your dress.

You feel his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties and swear that Theodore Nott will be the death of you.

Seemingly satisfied, a small smirk tugs at his lips, observing your reactions as he slowly pulls them down. He throws them to the side, and words cannot describe the look on his face as his eyes hungrily rake over you.

You needed him, every bone in your body ached with a visceral need for Theodore. Your hands come down to his belt, tugging at the buckle as you look over at Theodore, eyes glazed over as you were driven mad with your need for him.

He undoes his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clinking as he throws it onto your bed, unzipping his slacks. You can make out the bulge of his erection against his boxers and your heart skips a beat. You’re filled with this primal need to just have Theodore, you need as much of him as physically possible.

You tug his boxers down, freeing his strained erection from its confines. You swallow harshly at the sight of his cock, the tip glistening. You lean up to meet his lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his length as you give him a single jerk. You suddenly realise why Theodore was kissing you the way he was because the low groan that escaped Theodore's lips had you mad for more.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” He murmurs, pushing you back onto the bed. He hiked the skirt of your dress up over your hips, eyes straying down as he spoke.

“You’ve unravelled every thread of control I have.” He says against your lips, teasingly running the head of his cock between your folds. A low moan escapes you, desperately seeking more friction.

“I’m going fucking crazy for you. I ache for you every second of the fucking day.” He mutters, and you pull back from the kiss, looking up at him.

“You have me now.” You respond.

His lips surge forward and meet yours in a kiss with renewed intensity, slowly thrusting into you.

You both let out a collective low groan as he slowly thrusts into you, and you can feel every inch of Theodore within, stretching you out so good you feel as though the simplest movement would split you open. A plethora of gasped curses escape your lips, but Theodore silences them instantly, coming down to kiss you deeply. He buried himself inside you fully, savouring the way you stretched to accommodate him, clenching tightly. He gives you a second to adjust before slowly pulling out. He rocks back in again, his moments slow and measured, but strained as though it’s taking every inch of self-restraint to not ravage you there and then.

“More. Don’t be nice.” You moan, and Theodores swears he won’t ever be the same again. One look at you, hair splayed out against the mattress, your back arched off the bed. It’s a sight he’d never forget.

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m already close to losing it.” He utters, voice strained as his hand grip your hips harshly, surely leaving imprints.

“Good. Ruin me.” You whisper, a fucked-out grin on your face.

Theodore groans, pulling out slightly before slamming back into you. You gasp, cursing as your hands grip Theodore's sheets. He sets a ruthless pace, fucking into you hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, though you’re sure it had to be muffled by the moans leaving your lips. It was only then that you were thankful for having a room all the way on the top floor. You both were too drunk to realise Muffliato did exist.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well. It’s like you were fucking made for my cock” Theodore groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hands come up, running along his back as you lean up (to the best of your ability) to meet him in a kiss.

Theodore's forehead presses against yours, breaths mingling as he shifts slightly, before thrusting back into you. You can feel every inch of his cock brush against your walls, and you can’t help the pathetic plethora of moans and whimpers escaping your lips when he brushes against that spot, stoking a fire in your stomach.

“Theodore- Fuck! ‘m gonna…” You babble, and he lazily smirks, slowing down slightly as one hand tangles in your hair, tugging at it lightly. He experimentally plays with it for a second before harshly tugging your hair, eliciting another moan that felt like it came from the depths of your body, the line of pain and pleasure blurred.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up.” He hums, teasing you with shallow, slow thrusts.

You let out a whimper at the loss of contact, frustration gnawing at you as you look up at Theodore.

“Fuck, stop being such a tease. Please just..” You whimper, trailing off and he tuts, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as he forces you to look up at him.

“You have to tell me what you want. I don’t speak in half sentences, sweetheart.” He says, voice laced with an almost animalistic pleasure.

You groan, nails digging into Theodore's back as some slight form of retaliation.

“I’m gonna cum- please.” You say, breathlessly, and a small smirk tugs at his lips, his hand loosening its vice-like grip from your hair as it trails down the side of your face, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Good girl. Since you asked so nicely,” He muses, no longer teasing you with shallow thrusts as he wastes no time slamming back into you, cock brushing against your cervix. You moan, eyes rolling back as the heat in your stomach rises rapidly; the sensation of Theodore fucking into you was pure perfection.

“Theo…” You moan, breathlessly. He responds to you moaning his name with a harsh snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips as he grabs them tightly.

“Say it again.” He grunts, his thumb coming down to rub harsh circles against your neglected clit, sending a surge of electricity through you.

“Mmm- Ah, Fuck- Theo-“ You moan, and you’re sure you would have done it without him even asking.

“You close? Gonna cum on my cock?” He groans, and you’re sure you’ve become mush because you can’t respond, can’t think, your mind and body reduced down to one simple thing.

Theodore. Theodore, Theodore, Theodore.

You teeter impossibly close to your climax, nails scratching down his back. The sheer ecstasy was too much, and you felt like you couldn’t handle it but also like you needed more and more.

His eyes take over you, as if even though you're both inebriated, he tried to commit every little detail to memory, the way you moaned, mascara streaked around those eyes of yours.

His thrusts grow more intense, fingers working their magic against your clit as he brings you to your release. His relentless thrusts push you close to the edge over and over again,, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips as you feel his thrusts become sloppier, indicating that he was close. With what little strength you have left you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips descend down onto you, ravishing you with messy kisses. It takes one last thrust for you to be sent hurtling over the edge, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as your orgasm crashes through your body with frightening force. Your walls clench around Theodore's cock, eliciting a low groan from him as he chases his own release, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s positively sinful, but he’s sure he’s never seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck-“ He grunts, his movements becoming erratic as you feel him twitch inside you. your legs don’t give in, though you’re surprised you have the strength as the rest of your body convulses with the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“So fucking perfect.” He gasps, and with one final thrust, he stalls, burying himself deep inside you as he groans, hands momentarily tightening their grip on your hips before relaxing slightly. He utters your name with reverence like a sinful prayer, coming down to press lazy kisses to your lips as he releases deep inside you.

You reciprocate the kisses, and embarrassingly whimper at the loss of contact as Theodore pulls out of you, collapsing down next to you. You’re both breathless, panting as you come down from a high you've never experienced before. The post-orgasmic haze lingers over you, making you feel impossibly sleepy. Your eyes flicker over to Theodore and it’s evident that he feels the same. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the red spattering along his neck, not realising when you had done that.

In any other situation, you both wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But the effects of the alcohol had you both giving into temptation, and you didn’t fully comprehend just how badly you both had fucked up.

You roll over, pressing a teasing kiss to the hollow of his throat as he tugs the blankets over the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. He rests his face in the crook between your neck and your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder with an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a small sigh of contentment, wrapping an arm around him as his hand massages your back and side lightly, the tender feeling sending you further into that sleepy state. The sheets smell of Theodore, and you find yourself (as you often did) consumed by him.

You and Theodore both fall asleep in each other's arms, holding onto one another as the night passes by.

You had fucked up, truly.

If only you knew the consequences your actions would bring in the morning.

You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, for it was a known saying that drunk words are sober thoughts.

The same undeniably applied to actions too.

@llpovi @camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

[dorcasmckinnonn]

it's always been you pt3 (pt1, pt2)

AN: Ty to anyone who read this and liked it and has stuck with the series so far. this is the final part, and it was so fun to write. It's important to note that I just made up for the purpose of the story that the Rosiers are blood traitors, so just pretend with me. again, ty soooooo much if you've stuck with the series this far, and I hope you enjoy the final installment.

“You can either stop moping,” Sirius said, slamming his fork on the table, “or tell us all what has had your knickers in a twist for this whole day.”

James Potter’s best friend was trying his best to catch his eye, but he didn’t dare meet the very eyes he’d been struggling to push out of his mind since last night. “Seriously, Prongs. You just turned seventeen! What is there to be upset about?” Sirius looked at Remus and Peter for support, both of which were studying their plates like they had never seen food before. “Lay off, Pads,”James replied lazily, reluctantly glancing up at Sirius, “Hangover.” Sirius obviously wasn’t fooled, but since he was dealing with a hefty hangover himself, he let it go. The Marauders ate in silence. James always hated silence because it gave him time to be subjected to the torture that was his thoughts. He was about to begin rambling off about ideas for pranks when a commotion down by the Slytherin table thankfully stopped him. 

Regulus Black was eating his dinner quietly when his best friend stormed up to him. It was unusual for Pandora to be frowning, let alone this fired up. “A blood traitor! That’s what you think we are, Regulus?” She yelled, her brother, Evan, glaring closely behind her. Regulus remained puzzled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Panda.” Evan scoffed. “Well certainly if James Potter is a blood traitor, then that makes us one too. Did you think no one heard what you said? A slur? In the corridor? A slur that you know has been aimed towards us countless of times.” Evan said, pointing accusingly as Regulus paled. “Guys, you know I didn’t mean it like that-” Pandora put her hand up. “You know what,” Pandora said, “you can save it. Just know that this is the last time I ever call you my friend.” And with that, Pandora Rosier picked up Regulus’s pumpkin juice and dumped it over his head.

James couldn’t catch all of the conversation, but he could make out why Pandora and Evan Rosier were so upset. If it were any other person, James would have forgotten the exchange by now. People have called him that and way worse too many instances to name. But something about when it comes from Regulus Black's mouth inflicts more pain than it would coming from any other person in Hogwarts. James should feel smug right now, looking at Regulus with pumpkin juice dripping down his face. Merlin, his face. Regulus’s jaw flexed, and James’s heart rate spiked. “And what on earth are you looking at?” Regulus snapped at a first year Slytherin who had been gawking at him. The girl looked away quickly, her face turning a bright shade of red before Regulus stood up and left the Great Hall. 

As he was watching Regulus’s back as he stalked away, James was reminded that he wasn’t the only one that had witnessed the scene unfold. Remus cleared his throat. “What do you suppose that was all about?” he said. Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t know, and most certainly don’t care.” James’s temper flared immediately. He knew Sirius Black better than anyone in the world, so he knew that Sirius cared about his brother. Sirius cared more than anyone in this room, in fact. “C’mon, Padfoot,” James said, “ease up. Maybe now’s the time you finally mend things.” James met eyes with Remus, who was shaking his head violently. He could practically hear his voice in his head saying, James, no. Stop right now you thick-headed nimwit. “No, Moony. I’d like to hear James elaborate on that.” Sirius narrowed his eyes and spoke through his teeth, having noticed the interaction. James cleared his throat. “Well, Regulus is clearly dealing with a lot right now. I mean, aren’t him and the Rosiers good mates ‘n that? And they basically just humiliated him in front of the entire school, so that’s gotta be rough-” Sirius continued to glare at him. “And your point is?” he interjected, “You know what, It doesn’t matter what you’re getting at. I. Don’t. Care. And why should you? You don’t know him, and you certainly have no right to tell me what to do when it comes to my own brother.” Sirius pushed himself up from the table angrily.

As Sirius stomped out of the Great Hall, Remus scowled at James. “Seriously, you know that’s a touchy subject for him.” James rolled his eyes. “Oh come on,” he said, exasperated, “you know that I’m right.” Remus sighed. “He just needs time, Prongs.” James grit his teeth. It’s odd, feeling this sort of defensiveness for someone he barely knows. And it’s very odd the feeling he gets when he looks at him. But for now, he will continue to ignore his thoughts and search for a distraction. So, later in the evening when all students are supposed to report to their dorms before bed, James Potter sneaks out to the Astronomy Tower.

Regulus sat by the balcony of the Astronomy Tower. Evan had refused to let him into their dorm, so he had no choice to just wait out the night here. Regulus had become overwhelmed with boredom, so much so he had begun counting the stars in the sky. He was on star 134 when he stood up hastily at the sudden sound of footsteps. His head swiveled around, looking for somewhere to hide, but there were no options. Regulus had barely begun to formulate his plan when James fucking Potter strutted into the Astronomy Tower. His ridiculously handsome face morphed into a look of shock when he saw Regulus standing there. “Hello, Regulus,” he greeted cautiously. Regulus hated the way his entire body reacted when James fucking Potter said his name, but his insides felt tingly all the same. 

Regulus sneered at James. “Potter. What troubles you enough to be here? Don’t you and your little friends have, what do you call them, ‘pranks’ to be getting up to?” he said, in a falsely polite tone. “Not at all, actually,” James replied smoothly. He saw no point in returning Regulus’s attitude, however irking it may be, “Sirius and I just got into a fight. I just came here to clear my head, is all.” Regulus scoffed. “Why of course. What was the fight over, may I ask? Perhaps who has the biggest ego? Or who had lowest marks on the last few O.W.L.s?” James narrowed his eyes. “Now just what is that supposed to mean?” he ground out through gritted teeth. Regulus chucked meanly, no humor behind the sound whatsoever. “Oh, nothing. Just that I think you are a big-headed, idiotic narcissist who has had to work for nothing in your entire life; everything you ever want being handed to you on a silver platter.” James clenched his fist. “Now just why do you think you have any right to be talking like you know anything about me? Because the truth is you don't! How come you even hate me so much?”

"Because it’s always been you!” Regulus shouted having finally snapped, “You've been picked over me time and time again by the only person in this world I ever loved! My own brother abandoned me for you. Why? Why am I not good enough? I wanted someone to be there for me, and I could have been the person there for him. But he found that in you instead, and I had no one. I have no one. No one to go cry to after dad beat me. No one to comfort me after I had been crucioed by my own mother. No one. Coming to hogwarts I thought things would be different, but of course its still fucking you! You get to be the person that he laughs with. You get to be the person that he goes to. And he gets to be that for you. He should be that for me, but its always always always” Regulus let out a ragged breath, ”been you.’’ 

James looked down at Regulus, horrified. “Regulus,” he breathed, walking to stand next to him. Both of Regulus’s hands were gripping the balcony, his knuckles white. James placed his warm hand on top of his. Regulus’s heart rate sped up in a way that it shouldn’t. His body’s reaction to James’s touch spread all the way from the tips of where their fingers met, to a deep pit in his stomach. Regulus still refused to meet the boy’s stare, despite knowing that he was looking at him. If he gazed into those brown eyes, Regulus might just collapse on the spot. “I could spend all day telling you how sorry I am that you feel that way,” James began, his voice a son whisper, “but instead just please tell me how I can fix it.” Regulus said nothing. James sighed. He slowly reached out to Regulus’s face. James put his hand under his chin and tilted his head so Regulus’s striking gray eyes were finally forced to meet his. 

“Please, Regulus,” James pleaded, hand still on his chin, “I don’t want you to ever have to feel like that again. I want so desperately to be there for you. How can I be there for you? Tell me please. Anything you say I’ll do. Anything you desire, I’ll make sure becomes yours. I am yours to use at you will. Just please let me in.” Regulus looked up at James with wide eyes, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity. When he found nothing, Regulus leaned in without thinking. It was as if they were both magnets, the Regulus had finally succumbed to the pull that had been tugging at them both their whole lives.

Void of any rational thoughts, his lips brushed James’s in a question, one that James answered by placing his mouth on Regulus’s. Heat bloomed in Regulus’s chest as he took in the kiss, lips parting. James’s lips were warm and soft, the taste of honey and strawberries from dessert still on his tongue. As Regulus combed his fingers through James’s thick, brown locks, James evoked a low and throaty sound; one that Regulus could feel rumble all the way through his body, down to the tips of his toes. James’s large hands had found his waist as he deepened the kiss. The moment was electrifying and beautiful and perfect, up until the moment where they finally broke apart, breathing heavily.

Regulus looked up at James before stepping out of his grip. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ll uh, see you around, Potter.” James reached up to right his glasses nervously. “Yeah I-uh, see you, Regulus.” Regulus Black pressed his lips in a thin line, nodding once, before turning and walking out of the Astronomy Tower, leaving James Potter to question what in the bloody hell had just happened.

Ahhhh ty again if you read all the way through this CRINGE. @ketevanii, @ambrosia-v-black, @simp-for-fiction, @dazzling-witch, ty guys all sm for showing love, hopefully I did you justice ad you liked the last part <3

[nobodybutapathetic]

Snowball Fight Between A Malfoy And A Y/LN

Pairing: You And Draco

Summary: Y/N was bored so she decided to go and have some fun in the snow with Draco but they ended up throwing snowballs at each other. Will they go back to their childhoods? Find it out.

TW: None (well- probably cuteness) A/N: I am so sorry for posting this so late I have been so busy at studying for my exams so I hope you all really understand.

“It’s snowing outside..” you looked out on the window. You were watching the snowflakes drop as some lands on the window screen.

You then saw Draco running away from something which made you quite confused.

You immediately ran out the door and came to ask what happened to Draco.

“Crabbe! Goyle! What happened to Draco?” You asked his goons, pointing to Draco who was panting.

“Well.. Someone invisible threw snowballs at him and, he seemed pretty scared annoyed about it.” Crabbe said, turning to Draco who was death glaring him.

“Hm.. Why don’t you two leave and I’ll handle him?” You suggested which made them two nod.

The two finally left which means you were alone with Draco, in the snow.

“Why’d you even bother to know how I am.” Draco brushed off some snow on his sleeve which made you chuckle.

“Invisible, Hm? Well, this time, it won’t be invisible.” You smirked then took some snow from the ground.

“Oh Merlin, don’t even think about it!” Draco protects himself as he uses his arms as shields.

“Maybe.. NOT!” You then threw it at his face which made him quite furious.

“Oh two can play that game!” Draco yelled, whilst grabbing a huge amount of snow with two of his hands, shaping it as a circle and started throwing it on your arms.

”No way!” You started running away, grabbing much snow on the ground as you can as Draco chased after you, throwing snowballs.

You then shaped one of the snow into a heart and kissed it.

“Don’t you dare throw that masterpiece!” He shouted.

“Too bad.” You threw it exactly on his chest.

“Shit! It was the heart you perfectly made. Well, it’s not time for that now, right?” He grinned, forming a huge sphere with the snow.

“Don’t you dare throw me that huge sphere-“ You were cut off by Draco throwing it to you which made you fall.

“Ouch! That was painful, okay?” You dramatically squealed in pain.

“I should be saying that.” He laughs as he lays down next to you.

You both turned to each other, smiling.

“This was the best day ever.” You said.

“I have to admit, it is. But not the invisible person throwing it at me.”

[blancheludis]

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 32/?, Words: 177.126

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

JARVIS announces Steve’s arrival at the tower when Tony is in his workshop, grease on his nose and wearing yesterday’s clothes. The message leaves him frozen for several seconds.

“Do you want me to let him in, sir?”

“Yes,” bursts over Tony’s lips before his mind has fully caught on. When it does, he nods and says again, “Yes.”

After their dinner, Tony tried to view their short-lived acquaintance to be over. They beat the bad guy together but that was not enough to equip them to handle the aftermath.

Try as he might, Tony cannot even blame Steve. To be asked to leave their entire life behind for a stranger, no matter the words on their arms, is too much. Tony sees this now, and yet he would do it again. He cannot keep being affiliated with the Avengers. Not if he ever wants to see a shadow again without the fear of being stabbed.

Perhaps he is projecting his trauma on the wrong people. Despite the way they met, the Avengers have turned out to be steadfast allies, coming in to save him with little regard to their own safety. They came for him. But that is not enough.

If Steve is returning now, only two reasons come to mind for it. Either he is here to tell his goodbyes, or he has changed his mind. Even now, Tony is not sure which he would prefer. Nothing has become clearer since the day they met. On the contrary. Tony’s fear has mellowed, turned almost into a need. He is perfectly aware, however, that he does not always know what is good for him. And he cannot make any mistakes with this, not when he already feels like he consists mostly of cracks anymore.

“Colonel Rhodes has gone out to meet Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says into the brittle silence of the workshop.

That is what finally pushes Tony into motion. Whatever Steve is here for, he wants to hear it himself. Rhodey wants to keep him safe, but he could easily scare Steve away again, and Tony is tired of waiting.

Tony gets up quickly after saving his progress. On the way to the door, he looks down at himself. His trousers have holes, and the colours of his shirt have long ago faded into shades of grey. Nothing to do about that. This is who he is more often than the slick persona he dons for the press, so if Steve is not here to say goodbye, he will need to get used to that anyway.

As he steps into the elevator, he still wipes over his face and runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame it a bit. It is a hopeless case, but that has never stopped him before.

“If I may say so, sir, you look handsome as always,” JARVIS says, a note of humour in his voice.

Tony’s chest glows with warmth. In a way, JARVIS is programmed to take care of him, but even years after creating him it takes him by surprise that JARVIS actually does.

When the elevator door opens, he finds Steve a mere few feet away from him, stared down by Rhodey. At his arrival, they both turn around.

A hint of red is creeping up Steve’s neck and he looks generally flustered, while Rhodey’s expression is rather smug. Pity rises in Tony at the sight, but he squashes down on it mercilessly. Whatever Rhodey said, Steve deserves it.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you,” Tony says with more cheer than he feels. “I’d just like to hear whether Steve is here to stay.”

Steve stares at him, eyes roaming over Tony’s attire. Before Tony can wonder whether he should have taken the time to clean up a bit, a wave of heat smashes into him through the bond that has him almost staggering. So, he guesses he does not look too off-putting.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Rhodey says from somewhere behind them, voice muffled thanks to the deafening heartbeat in Tony’s ears.

He nods and then he hears steps getting quieter. He does not look away from Steve to confirm they are alone. And they are alone, for the first time ever, if one does not count JARVIS. Even in the café, Thor had been watching Tony’s back.

He is not sure what to make of the flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach that could be easily mistaken for fear. Tony knows better, though. He is thoroughly acquainted with fear thanks to the past weeks. This is a step up, harbouring the possibility for something more.

Steve still looks tired, dark badges under his eyes and a certain weariness to the curve of his lips. At the same time, he carries himself like he has lost a lot of the weight he was carrying around. His back is straight without the painful tension Tony has become used to seeing. His face is open, not hiding the hope nor the sense of being lost that is sitting in Tony’s own chest too.

They are alone and no one is out to kill Tony anymore. They have no more reason to hide from each other or, if they wanted, to stick around. This is the point where they decide their future. Tony has never been less prepared for anything.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says to break the silence long minutes after Rhodey has left.

That is like a slap in the face. Perhaps Tony has misinterpreted Steve’s presence. Perhaps the transmitted heat was shame and the desire to be anywhere but here.

“For coming?” Tony asks through clenched teeth. He has no right to feel disappointed, so he tries his best not to show it.

A grimace pulls at Steve’s features. It could mean anything, but Tony is sure it is nothing good.

“For – this.” Steve gestures at his arm.

Oh, Tony thinks, he means the heat and whatever it stands for. It should be flattering, of course. In a way, it is. Tony remembers the first thing he thought about Steve while he was merely semi-conscious in that warehouse was how attractive Steve is. All the drama they went through never really left time for them to look at each other, but he is. Almost like he was sculpted, a Greek statue come to life. Even his stubbornness equals the marble.  

“It’s all right,” Tony says, hard-pressed to keep his tone neutral. Surely this is a good sign. They should probably not stumble from not-quite allies into being immediately attracted to each other, but it is a better start than being repulsed.

If he can see Steve as beautiful that means he cannot be afraid of him anymore. Right?

“I’ve just never seen you like this.” Steve gestures vaguely at Tony, his cheeks glowing with a faint red.

As if wearing faded band shirts and sticky jeans is somehow more attractive than a three-piece suit. Then again, the Avengers as a whole seem to have problems with businessmen and rich people, so this might really be a positive development for Steve.

Tony shakes his head. They are not here to talk about whether he looks good or not. “Well?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

For once, Tony is not trying to kid himself about the answer he wants. Other people might call him crazy and he is not so sure himself how sane he is, but he wants Steve to stay.

In the very beginning, he would have been glad to get rid of Steve. Things have changed insofar that Tony has seen Steve’s potential. He has been hurt by him, his wishes were ignored, but he has also been saved, has felt the same worry he sometimes sees in Rhodey and Pepper’s eyes. That has to mean something. If it does not work out, they can still go their separate ways. Maybe, though, fate is on to something. Even if they are not cut out to be the perfect match, Tony would like to put this matter to rest. Peacefully, if at all possible. The last weeks are already tainted with too much regret.

“I – we split,” Steve says and hangs his head as if afraid to see Tony’s action, even though this is what he asked for. “The team in DC still has to make a final decision but everybody here is in favour. We’ve agreed to – try our hands at other things.”

The misery is almost palpable in the air, making it clear how hard a step this was. But this is it, Tony realizes. Steve really did it. He met Tony’s insurmountable demand and has come here presumably to ask Tony to let him back in, considering that he has not appeared spitting poison and calling damnation down on Tony’s head for pushing him into this position.

“That’s good,” Tony says but winces at the reluctance in his own tone. He wanted this, he does not get to feel bad for Steve now. He has no reason to, anyway. The way he sees it, things were bound to go wrong at some point if the Avengers kept up their work.

“I think it is,” Steve agrees, going a long way in reassuring Tony, no matter how slowly he says the words, seemingly dragging them up from deep down. “So, I’m here.”

What now? Where do they go from here?

“Do you have somewhere to go?” Tony asks because that is easier than to talk about how the rest of the team took this, what Steve means with saying they have agreed to split up. Somehow, he does not think it is that easy.

Steve scratches his neck, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes. “I applied to college,” he says like there is nothing to it. “I can stay at the base until then.”

That takes Tony more by surprise than Steve’s presence. When he asked Steve to stop being a criminal, he did not really think about what he would do instead. Despite his hopes, he did not believe they would get that far.

College means he must be serious about this, building himself a ladder to the future. That is so much more than Tony could have hoped for.

“Or you could stay here,” Tony says before he knows what he is doing. He freezes, then decides to just roll with it. “In the tower, I mean, we have guest suites. Thor and Bruce are living in one. Just in case you want to. Comes with all the amenities.”

He cuts himself off before he can start rambling in earnest. The offer is not completely selfless. It has the advantage of Steve being close, yes, but more importantly, JARVIS can keep an eye on him here. It is not that Tony thinks Steve is lying to him, but they are still mostly strangers and trust does not come easy to Tony. Less so now than before.  

Steve looks taken aback. It does come out of the blue, especially since they are still standing in the entrance hall of Tony’s home.

“I don’t want to crowd you,” Steve then says, sounding like he is afraid of refusing outright while being convinced that he should.

Tony cannot blame him for that. He has told Steve to stay away so many times, it makes no sense for him to change his mind now. Only it does. On an instinctual level he cannot explain.

“Have you seen this tower?” Tony asks by way of an explanation. “I’m safely tucked away up here. You can’t get to me if I don’t want you to.” The thought comes to him that it is now him pushing Steve into something he does not want. “Listen, this is just an offer. You’re welcome to stay, but I won’t force you.”

What a pair they make. Never quite committed to being enemies, just like they are now unable to make the jump to being something more.

“If you really don’t mind,” Steve says quietly, looking like he expects Tony to laugh and call gotcha.

Tony stares, needing a minute before the words register as what they are. An acceptance, however reluctant.

“I don’t,” Tony says, then turns back around to the elevator with a jerk of sudden energy. “Let me show you. You can decide then.”

He does not look whether Steve is prepared to follow him but simply presses the button and steps into the elevator when it comes. Any emotion from Steve could make him stop and he does not want that. Now that he has made the offer, he wants it to happen, bad idea or not.

They do not talk on the short elevator ride down. Tony looks at his phone, waiting for JARVIS to pull up a list of which suites are available. He has no intention of telling Steve about JARVIS just yet. In a way, that is his contingency.

Pepper is responsible for outfitting the guest floors, so they are welcomed by an elegant warmth, too artificial to be a real home but almost the next best thing. Thick carpets muffle their steps as they walk down the hall. Tony has the crazy idea to ask Steve about the artwork on the walls. He has had no hand in picking it, but this is his tower and now that he has invited Steve in, he cannot quite squash the need to impress him, if just a little bit.

They reach the last door of the hall and Tony swipes his card at the door scanner. He does not need to do that, of course, but he thinks that Steve, even in his dazzled state would notice the door opening on its own and ask some question. Better to keep his cards close to his chest while he is still wondering whether he is doing the right thing here.

Tony has not had much reason to visit the guest suites, but he knows their layout from when he planned the tower. They are spacy and welcoming. Large windows show the city and let the sunlight filter in unhindered. The furniture is light and elegant, sparse enough for the guests to decorate after their own wishes but placed strategically to give the picture of a complete home.

The kitchen is fully equipped, the bathroom bigger than some other people’s living room. This is not a place to be ashamed of. And yet, Tony awaits Steve’s judgement, tension creeping into his shoulders.  

He stands stiffly in the middle of the living room and he watches Steve look around, noticing the careful placement of feet, how Steve avoids stepping on the carpet, how his shoulders are drawn up, how he swallows several times. This is a rejection waiting to happen. Tony thinks it is because of him and not the suit but his fingers are still itching to get his phone out and ask JARVIS whether a grander one is available.

Finally, Steve comes back to face him, trying to make himself smaller than he is. “This is too much, Tony,” he says and bites his lip as if to keep himself from adding something.

A lifetime of experience tells Tony that means that he is too much, not good enough. He takes a moment to breathe and then, on a whim, concentrates on the bond. If Steve is disgusted with him, he should be able to feel that. The bond just mirrors Steve’s discomfort, thrumming with tension. Tony does not know what to do with that.

“It’s being unused at the moment,” he says, pretending this is just about the suite. Tony fixes problems and finding new rooms for Steve is something he could do. Easier, in any case, than changing himself and their situation.

Steve nods, barely a stiff inclination of his head, but says, “Let’s – I’m not sure I should do this.”

Tony finches, too late to suppress it, and curses himself immediately after. Here he is, inviting Steve into his tower while he cannot even listen to him without battling old fears.

Steve notices. Of course, he does. “What?” he asks, stopping himself with a jerk from stepping forward. “What did I say?” He does reach out with his hand and leaves it hanging there awkwardly for a moment while they stare at each other, debating how misplaced such a reaction is.

It takes some effort to school his face into something reassuring, especially since the bond is pulsing with his elevated heartbeat, but Tony manages a small smile. “Nothing,” he says and shrugs. “That was just a bit close to your words.”

Steve stares at him, face full of shock and slowly morphing into realization and then dismay. “You don’t want to – does it hurt? The bond?” Almost as an afterthought, Steve adds, “It did that for me when Stane had you.”

It makes sense. Tony is constantly getting mirrored feelings from Steve, so how could it not be the same for him. Knowing that Steve had been rushing towards the warehouse, having a front-row seat to witnessing Tony’s panic and fear, feeling his heart break as if it were his own, leaves Tony cold. Such intimacy sits wrong with him. On the other hand, that is exactly why they are here.

“I had nightmares about it,” Tony says lightly, not sure why he admits that. It is done. They cannot change it anymore. And, in the time since, Tony has assembled a dozen more things to have nightmares of.  

“You – oh.” Steve’s face falls. Where he was worried before, his expression now eases into something blank. His frown smoothens, his lips go slack, bloodless. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know –”

“It’s all right,” Tony lies, effectively cutting Steve off.

That first nightmare was born of the wish to go back and erase the words from his arm. At that time, they seemed to be the worst thing to ever happen to Tony. That has since been rectified.

“It’s not all right,” Steve argues vehemently. Golden sunlight is filtering in through the window behind him, bathing him in a glow that makes him almost look like a vengeful angel. “We hurt you and then I handled it in such an abysmal way afterwards. I’m sorry I didn’t back off. And I’m sorry you’re – afraid of me.”

The way Steve’s hair shines like a halo makes it impossible to look away. “It’s all right,” Tony repeats, this time more firmly. They will never get anywhere if they keep picking at everything they have done wrong. “If you had backed off, Obadiah would have likely succeeded in killing me. And I’m not afraid of you.”

Tony is not even sure himself whether that is a lie. He remembers the nightmare vividly, remembers having a visceral reaction when he mistook Thor for Steve before their interview. If he were dropped in the Avengers’ base right now with no direct way out, he might be afraid. But here and now, with sunlight streaming in through the windows that leaves no doubt about the remorse in Steve’s eyes, with JARVIS watching over them and several other people close by, Tony is not afraid. Not quite comfortable, either, considering what they are discussing, but he does not think Steve is going to hurt him.

Not physically, at least. When Steve takes a step back, out of the sunlight, Tony realizes that it would hurt him if Steve walked out of here right now.

“I should leave,” Steve says, face once again drawn tight and covered in shadow. “Thank you for the offer, but perhaps it is best if I left New York.”

The words sit between them, echoing inside Tony’s head. This is not how this is supposed to go. Steve cannot just leave after Tony put himself out there, offering if not a new start at least a new path, one with fewer potholes.

“Why would you do that?” Tony asks, surprising himself when his voice raises almost to a yell. He is brimming with sudden irritation, making him restless. He wishes he would have something to take apart to keep his fingers busy. Instead, he simply drums them against the side of his leg.

Steve’s eyes widen, taken by surprise by the sudden shift of mood. “Because you –”

Despite having asked, Tony does not want to hear Steve’s reasoning. Anger flares hot inside him.

“You don’t get to run away now,” he barks, taking a step forward. That only makes it more obvious that he is smaller than Steve but he does not care. “When I asked you to leave me alone you didn’t, and now that I’m asking you to figure this out with me, you’re turning your back on me? Is this how you do things? On your terms or not at all?”

Perhaps he made a mistake by bringing Steve here, by thinking they could reclaim some autonomy over their fate together. They truly have been doomed from the very beginning if Steve will not do anything when he is not the one initiating it, when everybody has to dance after his tune.

Steve looks like he wants to run. Shoulders hunched, legs hip-width apart, staring at Tony as if he has just seen him for the first time. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he says and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

A laugh bursts over Tony’s lips, brittle but sharp. He has made it clear what he wants, Steve just does not listen.

“I want you to stay so we can make sense of this,” he says, enunciating each word as clearly as his agitation allows. His fingers burn with the need to poke them into Steve’s chest or to shake his shoulders until he sees sense. “I want us to get our shit together and see what will be best for us.”

The need to build a time machine to stop all of this from happening has never been so strong.

Steve crosses his arms, showing clearly that nothing will be solved easily here. “Me leaving will obviously be best for you since you’re having nightmares about me,” he says, probably aiming for a reasonable tone.

All Tony hears is excuses, the same worry he has to fight inside him but that he refuses to give in to.

“I had nightmares about you,” Tony yells, then bites his lip as he tries to compose himself. “And don’t you think it’s my decision to make what’s best for me? Think hard about your answer because if you say no, I’m going to kick you back to DC myself.”

This was a bad idea, Tony sees that now. They cannot spend more than a minute together in one room without arguing when Tony is not in acute danger. His heart is not equipped to take that much stress.

Steve turns and starts walking, leaving Tony convinced that he will just march out. Out of the tower and out of Tony’s life, never to be heard of again. He should not be disappointed by that.

Instead, Steve steers towards the couch and sits down, looking like his legs would not have carried him for much longer. He rubs his eyes, blinks at the ground, while Tony stays frozen where he stands.

“I just don’t know what made you change your mind,” Steve then says, looking at Tony with eyes older than his years. They are both terribly tired.

A sigh escapes Tony’s lips. He is not entirely sure his opinion on them has changed. His feelings have, however. While he pretends to be a brain person instead of listening to his heart, he cannot fool himself in this matter.

His energy drained, Tony walks over to an armchair and sits opposite from Steve. “You did. By staying. By being stubborn. By helping me out of this.” He smiles slightly, tasting the bitterness of it. “We’re not friends, Steve, but we’re not enemies anymore either.”

They could be more is what he does not say, does not know how. They could still make something of this, something less tainted.

Steve lets his head hang for a moment, then tilts it up to look at Tony. “So, what now?”

That is what they have come here to solve. Tony does not have all the answers. “Let me deal with my company but stay in New York. Stay here,” he says, almost pleading. If Steve will leave, they should at least have tried this first. “Don’t run away until we’ve made a decision either way.”

Nothing in Steve’s expression changes but the bond is pulsing too quickly for Steve to be unmoved. Then, of course, he has to open his mouth. “The decision is up to you.”

Tony shoots up from his seat, frustration driving him back to his feet. “It’s not, dammit,” he snaps, glaring at Steve despite beginning to think that this is hopeless. “You’ve been thrown into this the same way I was. You’ve nursed your grudge against me, no matter whether it was justified. You were willing to hurt me and I’ve seen by now that that’s not exactly standard for you.” He takes a deep breath before he continues, reaching for calm.  “Being bonded to me cannot be easy for you, and I’m not going to decide anything for the both of us. We both have to come to a decision ourselves and then we have to stand by it.”

The bond is a two-way street. Steve is fighting it as much as Tony does. As he should, considering their history. They need to be honest with each other here, otherwise, it would be kinder on the both of them to separate now, before they get in any deeper.

Steve stays silent for too long, so long that Tony is certain the answer is not going to be in his favour.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Steve then says, so quiet that it is almost gets lost, Tony’s heart is beating so loud. Then Tony wishes it did, thinking that is no real argument to make.

“You can’t lose what you don’t have.” The words come out less harsh than Tony expected. He does not mean to lash out to hurt Steve. “Listen, we have obvious problems with each other. Not just with what happened, but with the grand picture, too. We live very different lives. We have had vastly different experiences up until now. I want you to find out what you want. Then we can talk again.”

That sounds like he is sending Steve away. And perhaps he is. Perhaps he just wants something permanent instead of this constant limbo, never knowing what is going to hit him next. How can he ask Steve to know what he wants when Tony does not manage to do the same?

“You think it’s that easy?” Steve asks, looking up at Tony with a shadow passing over his face.

Tony is rooted in place. He is tired but he does not want to sit back down again. It helps to be taller than Steve, if only for the moment. “Not at all,” he admits, leaning back against the armrest of the chair. He does not try to be subtle about it. “But I’m not going to navigate this before we’ve not both thought this through, and without our adrenaline levels still high.”

At this point, Tony feels the only two states he is ever in anymore are high on adrenaline and dead on his feet. There is no middle ground. Even in his workshop, he cannot stop thinking about everything that is happening, everything that is still coming.

Steve appears to shrink into the cushions, looking like he is not going to argue. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Tony says. He is sick of apologies, even while he is sure they are not done with those yet. Not by far. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

Surprise has Steve’s head shooting up, eyes wary. “For what?”

They do not have time for the entire list, even though it is running permanently in the back of Tony’s head. He can give Steve the short version, though, the ones that matter most in here. “Bucky’s arm. Sam’s partner. All the people I’ve killed.”

With a jerk, Steve moves forward. Even sitting down his hand almost reaches Tony. Again, he holds himself back.

“You haven’t killed anyone,” Steve says with a vehemence mirrored in his expression. “We were wrong to blame you for that. You shouldn’t take this on.”

It is a relief, hearing that conviction, even if Tony cannot really allow himself to believe it. Weeks ago, he was preaching about accountability to the press. He is not going to bow out already.

“They are still my weapons. My company,” Tony says, keeping his face calm even though each word stings like a fresh cut. “I didn’t know, but I should have.”

Should is one of the words Howard used to love. You should be better. You should not waste your time on irrelevant things. I should have left before I knew what a disappointment you would be.

Should is just a cover for a collection of failures. No one has ever made the world better by dealing with should-haves.

“That’s not –” Steve cuts himself off and just breathes for a moment while he looks at Tony, taking him in as if he might not get another chance. “All right, we’ll think about it, and then we’ll talk.”

Relief paints over the sliver of disappointment Tony feels inside his stomach. Part of him wants to have this argument now, wants to either be the villain or to be defended. Since Steve is promising him to talk later, though, chances are high they are not done

“Great,” Tony says, nodding to himself, slightly at a loss at being cut off in his tirade against himself. “Let me know whether you’ll take the suite, then I’ll send someone to key you into the system.”

He watches as Steve takes another long look at their surroundings. It is stupid, really. What was he thinking? That the man whose job involves way too many warehouses and back alleys, who lives in a secret base, would appreciate an apartment in the most visible building in New York? Ridiculous.  

“I would like to stay,” Steve says, catching Tony completely off-guard. He even sounds earnest about it, eyes crinkling.

“Good, good,” Tony mutters, even while he still wonders whether he has misheard. He takes a step towards the exit, thinking he should go while Steve’s verdict is still in his favour. “I might need some time. There’s just so much to do for the company.”

This is not just an excuse. Since Pepper has officially taken over, Tony’s schedule has only gotten worse. He trusts her to know what she is doing, though, and they have scraped disaster close enough for him to be on his best behaviour.

“I understand,” Steve says, showing no sign of impatience, even though Tony is basically pushing him away right after insisting they need to talk. “Call me when you have the time.”

Time will not be the problem. Tony has always been good at making time for the things that are most important to him. Alas, he is also good at procrastinating when it comes to emotional matters.

“And you tell me to stay away if you need more time to think,” Tony insists. He meant that this is a two-sided matter.

Tony has been pushed around all his life, he does not want to do the same to Steve.

“I will,” Steve promises. The curve of his brow speaks of his stubbornness. “But, Tony, if you have any more nightmares about me – just tell me.”

Tony will most definitely not. New nightmare material has accumulated, enough so that Tony is sure Steve will not feature much. Why would he, when real monsters are lurking in the shadows of Tony’s mind?

Still, the smile Tony manages is brittle around the edges. “That only makes sense if you’d actually stay away this time.”

He regrets his words a bit when Steve’s expression falls, giving way to something dark, full of haunting regret.

“I would,” Steve says in a grave tone. “I promise you.”

There is nothing else to do but believe him. Tony knows liars and whatever else Steve might be, he is not that. Less clear is why Tony feels a stab at hearing that, as if Steve leaving, even at Tony’s behest, would actually be a loss.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

They look at each other for a moment longer, no more words between them. Then Tony nods and turns, telling himself he is not fleeing.

He feels Steve’s eyes in his back as he walks back down the hall to the elevator, and when he is out of sight, the feeling is still echoed through the bond. He is not at all sure whether he has made the right decision. At the same time, he is glad that Steve is here. That is a step forward at last. Now they just have to make something of it.

[heliads]

Hello I love your blog!!!!!!! Could I request a George Weasley x reader where George tries to ask shy Hufflepuff reader to the Yule ball please? (Is that specific enough, if not tell me!) thank u lots!!!♥️♥️

perfectly specific, thx! also this is so cute <3

masterlist

George Weasley stands facing the best window of the dorm. He is quite able to call it the best after significant thought and research. Many hours have been spent here before, all pondering various criminal activities, the likes of which only George and Fred could possibly understand. 

Today, however, George’s thoughts veer towards an entirely different track. He’s not planning out another excellent prank, nor how to skip class yet again so he doesn’t have to see Snape’s twisted face when all he wants to do is go to sleep. No, as of right now George is contemplating the most difficult task of all: getting Y/N L/N to go to the Yule Ball with him. 

Normally, George wouldn’t care much about a school dance. His pranks have gained him enough notoriety around the school that George could ask a large number of girls and still have someone he’d want to spend an evening with, that’s not the problem. 

The issue, then, is that there’s a specific girl on his mind. He didn’t expect to fall for this girl, not in a million years, but there’s no turning back now. George is head over heels, completely set on her hook, line, and sinker. There’s simply nothing he can do to convince his heart to beat any other way. 

They are rather different people, even George in the midst of his lovesick musing can acknowledge that. Y/N is a Hufflepuff, known for being quite shy even amongst her typically mild mannered brethren. George, on the other hand, well, he’s always been a little too loud, a little too daring. They couldn’t be less alike. 

George hadn’t really had cause to interact much with Y/N before one crucial day in which an ordinary prank changed his entire life. George had successfully completed his end of the prank and was making his getaway when he turned around one last time to triumphantly view the chaos he’d wrought upon the school. 

All of a sudden, his eyes had caught upon a single face amongst the masses, one girl who was wearing what might be the prettiest smile George had ever seen. She had been looking at the aftermath of the prank originally, then her gaze slipped from George’s masterpiece to George himself. 

It felt like time slowed down. The rest of the castle faded to nothing. It was just him and this girl, that faint smile on her face, a more foolish one on his. All it took was those few seconds before she turned away, and George was smitten. 

It’s funny, thinking back on it, that George only needed the one instance to fall so hard for her. He’s seen his fair share of girls, especially those who enjoy his work with Fred to make school more entertaining. Yet when he thinks about the Yule Ball, George thinks about Y/N and Y/N alone. 

A pointed cough echoes from behind him. “You’re thinking about that girl again, aren’t you?”

George turns around to see his twin looking at him sardonically. Fred knows about George’s crush, and he’s known since the very beginning. George isn’t sure if that’s good or bad. 

George arches a brow. “What of it?”

Fred blows out an exasperated breath. “Just ask her to the dance, for Merlin’s sake. I’m sick of seeing you pine all day.”

George chucks a nearby scrap of paper at Fred’s head, although Fred knows enough to duck. “I can’t pine, Freddie, I’m no tree.”

Fred pretends to glare. “Terrible joke. And you know full well what I mean, you’re just trying to hide from the truth. You like this girl more than anyone, just ask her out. It’s that simple.”

George scoffs. “Yeah, it’s totally just that simple. I think I’d rather face a horde of bloodthirsty monsters than have to track down some girl in front of her friends. The teasing from you alone would be a menace.”

Fred just chuckles. “It was simple for me. I asked Angelina already, didn’t I?”

“That’s different,” George says with a pointed look, “all you did was make eye contact with her and wave your arms about as if you were taking part in a swing dance.”

“Actually, that was a waltz. I very clearly was in closed dance position, something you should know if you’re keen on going to the ball in the first place.” Fred clarifies. 

George loses the battle against rolling his eyes. “Of course, I should have known. Still, it’s not the same.”

He can feel how weak his argument is, though. It shouldn’t be that hard to ask a girl to a dance, right? Right?

George launches his first attempt that very day. He takes it upon himself to find Y/N, and ends up stumbling upon her while she’s sitting out in the courtyard with a group of her friends. They’re scattered across the stone tiled floor in a huddle three or four deep. 

George tries to make his way over to Y/N, but she’s so shielded from view by her friends that he finds he can’t manage it. George clears his throat awkwardly, hemming and hawing as he tries to navigate the masses of obviously disconcerted Hufflepuffs. 

At last, George gives up and asks them to move so he can ask somebody to the Yule Ball, for Merlin’s sake, and all of a sudden the entire flock of them start running for the hills. George finds himself lost in a hubbub of yellow scarves fleeing for cover, and when the dust settles, he’s totally alone. They followed his request perfectly, and all left. All of them. Turns out Y/N left with them.

George makes a face, alone in the courtyard. Great. Looks like this is going to be just as hard as he feared, Fred’s terrible attempts at encouragement be damned.

George tries again two days later. This time, he’s going to be direct about it. Y/N is in one of his classes, and although Professor McGonagall is strict enough that even forever reckless George isn’t idiotic enough to try and engage in friendly conversation in front of his teacher, he can approach Y/N after class ends.

The second the Transfiguration period is over, George all but races to Y/N’s side, making sure he gets to her before her other Hufflepuff friends can block him off. Y/N looks up at him in surprise when George appears next to her; although George has been admiring her from afar for a while, they’ve never really talked together before. 

He can chalk that up to nerves coming out of nowhere. Really, how is it that he can wink at expulsion like a pretty girl, yet start stammering when confronted with an actual girl in the flesh? It shouldn’t make sense, but it’s what’s happening now.

George tries to push all thoughts of failure from his mind. He’s one of the Weasley twins, dammit, and around here that’s as good as gold even if he doesn’t feel it right now.

“Hey, Y/N.” Solid enough start, he thinks.

Y/N smiles up at him, albeit somewhat hesitantly. “Hey, George. What’s up with you?”

Merlin, she knows who he is. George tries not to flip out over this, but he’s only half sure that he’s successful.

“Not much. Just, you know, trying to figure out the whole Yule Ball thing.” George looks meaningfully at Y/N, trying to gauge whether or not he’s too late to ask her, but Y/N doesn’t let on anything.

Instead, she chuckles somewhat nervously. “Tell me about it. Truth be told, I’m a little worried about the whole thing. I’m just terrified that I’m going to trip down the stairs and embarrass myself, or forget the steps to the waltz in front of everyone.”

George nods slowly. “You know, I’m sure it would be fun if you went with a friend. Maybe if you went with someone you could trust, someone good, it would end up being alright.”

George swears that he’s being fairly obvious about his hints, but Y/N still isn’t giving him any indication that she’s already been asked or not.

She still looks fine with talking to him, though, so that’s a start. “That makes sense,” Y/N says, “I think I’d like that quite a bit. Do you have any ideas for that sort of gentleman?”

Just as George opens his mouth, one of Y/N’s friends calls her name from across the hall. Y/N quickly bids a goodbye to George, and although she does look sad to be leaving him so suddenly, George is still left standing alone in the corridor. He feels a glum mood settling around his shoulders, as thick as one of Bill or Charlie’s new woolen coats. 

“Me,” he finishes lamely, his words lost to the hustle and bustle of the Hogwarts student body, “you could go with me.”

That night finds George even more stressed than before. This time, he’s got not only Fred but Lee Jordan called on for extra help in the whole situation.

Fred cocks his head at George, who’s been pacing back and forth across their dorm for the past ten or so minutes. “I don’t get it. I know you like her, but is it really worth all of this effort?”

George looks confused, so Lee jumps in to clarify. “I think I get what Fred’s saying. I’ve heard so many girls talking about how they wouldn’t mind going with you. I mean, what with your pranks you’ve got far more supporters than you think. I had a date picked out ages ago, and she all but swooned when I asked her.”

George rolls his eyes. “We’re not all Romeos like you, Lee. Swooning isn’t common for us knaves.”

He allows Lee a few moments to chuckle, then keeps going. “I want to go with Y/N, though. I really want to go with her.”

Fred taps his hand against his leg absentmindedly. “What’s so great about her that you couldn’t find in any other girl, especially some other girl who wouldn’t be so hard to track down?”

George finds himself at a loss for words. There’s so much that makes Y/N fantastic, far more than he realized in that first wonderful glance at her. For one thing, she knows who he is outside of just the indescribable, inseparable Weasley Twins. George thinks he could count on one hand the amount of people who are actually able to tell him and Fred apart, and Y/N is one of them.

To him, that’s everything. In a world that keeps George stuck behind the walls of ‘Fredandgeorge,’ having someone know him or at least be able to see him for someone other than his brother’s counterpart is wonderful. 

Also, she’s kind. George can admit that he’s been snooping on her a little bit ever since he first saw her. All harmless stuff, of course, just watching with a faint smile whenever her friends sit near him on the train or shooting her glances when he thinks she isn’t looking. Typical crush stuff, that sort of thing.

What he’s been able to uncover is that Y/N is a genuinely good person. George has long scoffed at Hufflepuffs, much like everyone else in the school, but in meeting Y/N he’s realized how wrong he’s been all along. Kindness is not a weakness, not in Y/N and not in anyone else. It takes a certain kind of strength to go through life in any capacity, teased or praised or ignored, and still respond to everyone with a full heart. George doesn’t think he could match that if he tried.

In the end, when faced with the questioning eyes of his brother and his best friend, George just lifts a shoulder and says quietly, “Everything.” It sums up the matter well enough for him.

Lee claps his hands together once. “It’s settled, then. I haven’t seen you stuck on a girl like this in ages, or any of us for that matter. Go get her, George. No matter how long it takes.”

George manages a faint smile. “Yeah, I think I will.”

He’s doing it the next day. George can feel it in his bones as he gets up the next morning, a sort of humming across his mind that things are going to change. His luck is shifting, he can sense it like a coming rain. This is how his story flickers into a golden epilogue, by finally getting the girl that he loves.

George doesn’t leave anything up to chance. He sees Y/N seated at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, and he walks right past all the Gryffindor students at their table to sit down next to Y/N. He certainly attracts a fair number of bewildered stares, but he couldn’t care less.

The only person he’s looking at, after all, is Y/N. Y/N, who looks confused as to why George seems to have become a house turncoat, who’s surely got some idea of why he’s here because the corners of her lips keep twitching up even as she tries to suppress her smile.

George clears his throat, albeit a little melodramatically. He can’t help himself. “Y/N, would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

Y/N’s face splits in a smile that’s almost dizzying in its brilliance. “I would like that quite a bit.”

George has to fight his hardest to disguise the sigh of relief that’s currently billowing in his chest. “I couldn’t be happier to hear that.”

And he truly couldn’t. At last, he’s got his girl. He can picture the dance already, how Y/N will look in dress robes and a smile even more beautiful than this one. He can’t wait to see it, this dream come true. After this, it’s only a matter of days until the ball, but George’s happy ending begins right now.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

1)

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

2)

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

3)

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

4)

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

5)

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

~

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

~

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

[blorbobird]

LUCEMOND

hotd × harry potter au

Lucerys Strong liked his life, thank you very much.

The second born son with nearly no heavy duty responsibilities placed upon him. It was a simple, adaptable living. Nothing overly splendid but he found himself in no position to complain ( just yet). He had learned to take things less seriously than his older brother , Jacerys , whilst taking nothing for granted along with it.

That doesnt mean however that his life was perfect. No, no. The life he was born into was rather fucked from the start. The core of its blams could be placed upon the family he was made into. His mother's side, truthfully.

Power hungry pure-bloods that had a taking for insanity and greed. Targaryen. The name alone was a caution tale for all knowing or at least somewhat aware. With their fiery tempers and unwavering need for control , it all had been a passed down trait along with the ivory-white blonde hair and lilac eyes, like any other natural chromosome gene. Neither of which Luke or his brother Jace possessed physically. The rest however…

Have it be noted that Lucerys resembled his now-deceased birth farther, Harwin Strong, on an exterior forefront mainly . With large brown doe eyes that looked more bambi-like than threatening, and a mop of unruly curls that lay ontop of head with a mind of its own.

He was soft, for a Strong.

Cute where he was meant to be seen as manly. The kind that causes girls to friend-zone you in two sentences flat. The kind that boys instantly take you as No Real Threat to any given topic. But if having your cheeks pinched by your mother too frequently is the hardest thing going on in your existence then well … you really can't complain.

You can complain however if it's those big brown eyes that get you into more trouble than good. These adorable things? You'd think it'd do the opposite. But never anything was as simple as that. Or maybe Luke wasn't lucky? If he could bat his eyelashes in the way he saw pretty-girls do, or adorable little puppy dogs, then he would've. Merlin knows he's tried.

His eyes were wanted. Well, one of them? Technically. For a long over-paid debt by the very man making eye contact with him right now.

" Im gonna die," Luke chokes out under his breath. Turning his head away from the gaze currently being inflicted on him from a few tables down.

Flipping a brown strand of hair behind her shoulder as she reads. "Calm down. Its going to be easy." Maris Baratheon hums as she flips a page. " Just a recap of the hexes we learned last year. Maybe that Boggart summary -"

An exasperated sigh leaves the fifth-years mouth. "Not in DADA class!" He presses his elbows to the table and lets his forehead fall onto his palms.

She nearly looks up from her new assigned work book. "Why not? After the smoke-screen charm 'mishap' from last year Id be pretty concerned about Professor Daemon wanting to kill me," A side-ways glare causes her to stir finally. Wide eyed. "Is there another welcome back pop quiz I should be preparing for? Honestly, I swear if its herbology Im ringing you by your ear —"

"You know for the smartest sister out of your siblings you sometimes really are daft!" He sassily remarks looking towards her eyes finally. She stares back, slightly offended, but letting him continue for once before she rambles too much. "You remember that man I told you about? The one that I maimed?"

A ghost of a smile plays on her lips. "The one you told us about in third year? C'mon you're still going on with that lie?" The idea of Lucerys maiming anyone seemed humorous. Unachievable, even. He hadnt even been the sporty brother. Frankly, he'd been known for fainting at a mandrakes scream on more than one occasion.

He never did listen to those warnings of putting on the ear muffs correctly. Luke didn't listen in general.

"Its true!" He gasps sitting up finally and nearly swatting her arm. "Don't believe me? Look towards the Durmstrang table. They're sitting at the end of Slytherins."

Last night they had arrived during dinner. The lot of them, less then twenty but more then ten. Those Beauxbatons students too but they hadnt been the cause of his headaches. His paranoia. The acute awareness of the ticking time bomb above his head.

Maris' eyes scan for a moment before an shocked intake of breath. Maybe she caught on quick or maybe, just maybe , it hadnt been all that hard to find the person sending a death glare across the dining hall. A known presence to those seeking. A bulking shadow.

Aemond "One-Eye" Targaeryn. Brooding as always.

"You did that to him?!" She says in mainly shock alone.

"Im guessing he's still staring?" Luke didnt dare to seek a second peak. Especially when he can feel a small concentrated hole starting to burn its way into the side of his skull.

"I dont even think he's blinking, babes, Imma be honest." Maris is unable to look away apparently. Its like a car accident. A burning, dare she say hot, tragedy to tear your eyes away from. "You maimed a Targareyn? The moody one? The evil one?"

"He's not necessarily evil?" Luke picks up his fork. Trying to find something to do with his hands to seem busy. To try and make the conversation not seem so obvious. "He's just Machiavellian and a Byronic-wannabe." Although Luke knew death could be a very plausible possibility with the kind of psychopath he was dealing with, he had grown up not feeling overly-threatened by it.

He found it humorous ... sort of. He shouldn't have, he knew that. Some part of him knew he should be scared, truly. But adapting possible trauma into humor was the only way Luke learned to cope towards things. It was all just a funny misunderstanding. Yes .

One where he possibly ends up six feet under or bleeding on the floor and screaming. He spiraled last night after seeing Aemond enter the Great Hall. A quick study of what to do if your eye is gouged suddenly from your head. The books in the library said to close the other and try not to move it because eyes mimic each other. If you apply pressure —

" Are you even listening to me?" Maris whisper-scolded with an elbow to the ribs. "You've zoned out again."

A stab to the peas on the plate and he watches them scatter. The butter he smeared previously has gone cold and is making the vegetable stick to the plate as they roll. "Im just thinking of what a joyous last meal this is. Maybe we can sneak to Honeydukes later and get some of those lemon cakes?"

" Stop joking-"

A pointed look. "I never jest about cake,"

A smack over the back of the head causes him to wince. "You're not dying!" She rubs the back of his head in an apology for how hard she smacks. "He's not gonna kill you,"

He dares a sneak finally. Aemond's eye stares him down with an emotionless expression. The way his large hand wraps around his knife however? The white knuckled grip of death that Luke can practically already imagine suffocating him into a inky, black, nothingness …

" He's gonna kill me and he's gonna like it," Enough is enough and Luke finally looks away. Trying not to imagine that twisted cutlery metal as his spine bending. "He's so much larger then he was years ago,"

Its an odd observation but true. Lucerys remembers even less about Bulgaria than his family seems to believe. A bit more than his younger brother, Joffery , who had been but a babe at the time. He hadnt even started school yet. He had been shorter than he was now of course and the towers of snow seemed so tall. The harsh, cold rain that still sends chills down his spine at the thought.

The funeral. The yelling under fyre-light. He just wanted the screaming to stop. The way the curse dripped so easily from Aemonds lips. Like venom, like poison. Wandless and young, untaught cruel magic.

Luke wasnt good at magic now hardly and he hadnt been then. The slice of metal through air then blood. So much blood. The screams only got worse, but it wasn't Jace who had been crying them anymore.

It had been nearly a decade ago when they fled. Daemon Targareyn, his mothers uncle, provided them with lodging near the school he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts at.

The last time he saw him, them , any of them. It had been that night after Alicent had gone after young Lucerys in return. Shortly after Harwins death. Enough had been enough. A young Rhaenyra fled with her children to England. Jace had gotten his letter to Hogwarts some time after. They made it their new home.

Luke adapted quickly. As quickly as he could. The less toxic life style away from Pure-blood greed was comforting. The constant scolds for being turned half-blooded nearly didnt matter here. Sure, some of the Slytherin families held prejudice. No one who mattered to him. It was shrugged and waved off other wise.

It was a modern age anyway. Most wizards and witches were half-bloods in this new age of 1976. Muggles , non magic folks , had a lots of interesting things to bring to the table.

Music, for starters. Music he wouldnt have heard otherwise. Art and poetry and movies and groovy new clothes. All these things he focused himself off because he wasnt perhaps best at the rest of it all. Magic, swords, dragons …

"Ya know what?" Luke starts. The cold plate of peas and the distant thought of drowning panicked sorrow in Lemony-sweets going on pause. "Im not gonna die."

"Thats spirit!"

"By Aemond or Mister Daemon-"

… " Now, thats a bit bold I'm not gonna lie." Maris whispers in a slightly judgy tone.

"I just," He squares his shoulders and sits straighter. "I just need to kpen up his perspective,"

"You need to open up his what now?"

He ignores and continues. "Show him? That he's wrong and that he can't have my eye or my life and neiTHER will be his because of his sick twisted — "

Maris pupils widen and theres suddenly a shadow looming from somewhere over him.

"My sick twisted what now?" A cool, liquid metal voice spills its way into Lucerys ears. Maybe reality hits a bit finally as goosebumps spread and a bit of fear kicks in.

A wince. A breath.

Lucerys tilts his head up slowly. Meeting the unwavering glare of Aemond Targaryen as he stands some where behind him. Above him. Peering down at Luke like he's the smallest thing he's ever gazed upon. Something to step on and squish where he stands. Something that belongs under his heel.

"Oh, yeah. Im dead."

[aurorablue22]

Scarface - Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Somebody decides to mess with Moony. 

(A/N): This can be interpreted as a platonic or romantic relationship between Remus and the reader, it hasn’t been specified! Also, as far as I know, I have created the names and characters of Michael Bershire and his crowd. 

Warnings: violence, blood, mention of scars, heavy swearing. If you are sensitive to these things, please do not continue below the “keep reading” line. 

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

It was a typical Sunday night for Remus Lupin. As per usual, he had picked up prefect duties for this evening, and wandered throughout the corridors of the castle. 

Midnight was fast approaching, and Remus paused for a moment. Due to him being a werewolf, his senses were amplified, meaning that one of his abilities was superb hearing. 

Lupin cocked his head towards the dungeon staircase, where he heard a bit of commotion. He didn’t even have a moment to approach the noise before the cause was revealed. 

Michael Bershire and his Slytherin gang. 

Remus forced himself not to roll his eyes. Of course, they just had to be out while he was on prefect rounds. 

It seemed that the five lads didn’t notice Remus until he cleared his throat. They quickly snapped their heads in his direction.

“Lupin, ol’ chap! What’re you doing out so late? Haven’t you got a book to read?” Michael Bershire held his head up high, an annoyingly perfect grin plastered on his face. His gelled auburn hair reflected so strongly the candlelight in the halls. 

Remus had to refrain from rolling his eyes as Bershire took a few steps forward. “Gentlemen, it’s approaching midnight. I’ll have to ask you to return to your dormitories.”

“Oh and that we will do! It’s just, we’re a bit preoccupied at the moment. Isn’t that right, lads?” Bershire looked back at his companions, who nodded fervently. 

Remus was taller than Bershire, but because of his horrible posture, they seemed to be on the same level. He bit back a grimace when Bershire’s painfully minty breath stung his eyes. 

“Now if you’ll excuse us, we have business to attend to.” Bershire dramatically turned, his house robes swishing behind him. 

“Well then,” Remus says, “I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to your head of house, and I don’t believe you’d want that to happen. So if you don’t mind-”

And just as dramatically, the Slytherin boy whipped around again. 

“What was that, Scarface?” 

Before Remus could even form words, Bershire was stalking towards him. 

“How dare you speak to me in such an authoritative tone? After all, you’re... well you’ve got mud in your veins!” 

“And blood on his face.” one of the boys behind him added. Remus recognized him to be Adam Percival, the greasiest boy he knew. 

“You’re right Perce, he does have blood on his face. What, was ol’ Minnie upset you didn’t grade her papers for her? Or was it-”

“Shut it, Bershire.” Remus tried his best to compose himself, but couldn’t seem to look away from his shuffling feet. The full moon was only a few days ago, and he’d been left with a couple scrapes around his jaw and cheeks. 

Michael Bershire was baffled. That is, until he came up with another one of his clever ideas. 

“Boys, I’d say we teach Lupin a little lesson. After all, he should know - given his crowd - that snitches are frowned upon.” The 5 Slytherins slowly stalked towards Remus. “And you know what they say-”

“Snitches get stitches.” 

It was then that Remus was swiftly grabbed by two of the boys, and his arms were held behind him as Bershire swung at his stomach. Once they’d decided he’d had enough, Remus’ arms were dropped and his knees buckled under their forceful kicks. 

They pushed him onto the ground where they continued to harm him; kicking and hitting with all their might. It seemed like ages before they let up. 

Slowly, they backed away, but not before Michael could kneel before Remus’ shaking form. 

“Remember what I said, Lupin.”

And with that, he stood up and hurried away, while Remus was left alone in the dark corridor. 

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

Sirius’ head perked up as Remus entered the common room portrait hole. 

“Moony you’re back! Merlin we thought you got lost-”

“Where ya been, mate?” James cut him off. “We had to play three extra rounds of exploding snap waitin’ for you!”

Peter sat up from his position in front of the fireplace. “Alright Moony? You seem kinda quiet-”

“Good Godric Remus, you look awful!” Sirius shouted when Lupin faced them. 

“Yeah, and I feel just as great.” he said, taking a seat on the worn out couch. 

James came to sit on the armrest beside him. “What happened Moons?”

After Remus came to explain the series of events, the rest of the Marauders were fuming. 

“Oh I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him!” Sirius shouted as he kicked over a coffee table.

“Sirius please, not now!” Remus groaned, covering his ears. “All I want right now, is to go to my room, and get a good night’s rest. Alright? I’ll deal with this bullshit in the morning.” 

“Here, we’ll help you up.” James offered his arm, to which Remus took politely. Just as they were lifting the lycanthrope off the couch, they heard giggles coming from the staircase leading to the girls dormitories. 

“Who’s there?” Peter whisper shouted, receiving a “You bloody idiot!” and a slap from Sirius. 

“It’s just us!” Marlene whisper shouted back, as she, followed by you and Lily, entered the common room. 

“What the hell are you doing up?”

“Nice to see you too, Black.” Marlene raised an eyebrow. 

“If you really wanted to know, we were hungry, and figured the house elves might have some snacks for us. What’s your excuse?” Lily said, crossing her arms over her pajama top. 

“Remus just got back from prefect duties, figured we would-”

“Sweet Merlin Remus, what happened to you?” you suddenly exclaimed, making Peter jump. 

You rushed over to him, taking hold of his face, forcing him to look at you. 

“It’s nothing (Y/N), really. My transformation was a little rough, that’s all-”

“Remus, your transformation was three days ago. What the bloody hell is all this?!”

“Bershire beat him up.” James confessed. 

Remus turned to face Potter, shooting imaginary daggers at him. 

“She was bound to find out anyway! Besides, look what he’s bloody done!”

“Michael Bershire did this to you? That bastard-” 

Remus gently removed your hands from his face. “Listen, I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t want to deal with this right now. Can somebody please just help me to my room?” 

The boys swooped in and half carried Remus to their dormitories, while you and your girls quietly said goodnight. 

“Can you fucking believe that?!”

“Marlene, hush.”

“That fucking twat. Oh, I can’t wait to see what the boys have in store for him. I bet-”

“Marlene, please! Remus said he didn’t want to deal with this right now, so we’re dropping the subject. I say we go back to our rooms and get some rest.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“Swallow your spit. Now c’mon.” Lily ushered Marlene back up the stairs, before turning back and taking your hand. 

“You alright, (Y/N/N)?” she gave you a knowing look. 

“I’m with Marlene. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for him.”

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

Lily was the earliest riser in your dorm. That being said, she took it upon herself to wake the rest of you up in the morning. You’d had a half decent sleep, and as you rubbed your eyes awake, you heard the playful banter of Marlene and Alice.

“Marls, get a move on!! You know what we said about those Hollywood showers!”

“It’s Americano, Ally!”

“I don’t give a damn what it is! Get out!”

You and Lily were ready before the rest of the girls, so you walked arm in arm down to the Great Hall. It wasn’t until the Marauders sat at your table you recalled everything that happened last night. 

“Alright (Y/N/N)? That vein in your forehead looks like its’ bout to burst.” Sirius said while grabbing a stack of pancakes. 

“Do you have an bloody clue what you’re going to do about this?! Remus, you can’t let Bershire off this easy.” you turned your head towards your favorite (and slightly bruised) lycanthrope. 

“I swear, I’m fine. And besides, the boys will work up something eventually.”

“Yea, eventually.” James exclaimed through forkfuls of food. “Moony made us promise to not even look at Bershire for a week!”

“A week?!”

James nodded enthusiastically, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. 

“Since when do you defend bullies, Remus?!” you practically yelled, clenching the cutlery you were holding. 

“It’s not that (Y/N), it’s just-”

“It’s because he’s afraid of him.” Peter blurted out, making everyone’s heads turn. His hands shot over his mouth in realization. 

“Why is it the only time you open your mouth it’s to say something stupid?” Sirius said, hanging onto a glare. 

“You’re afraid of Michael Bershire?! Remus that’s not healthy! That’s- that’s horrible! Sweet Merlin Rem, I’ll show him what to be afraid of-” Remus cut you off.

“I’ve told you already, please don’t make me repeat myself again.” Remus placed his hand over yours. “The boys will handle this eventually. If you really love me, stay out of it.”

You settled down then, but still scanned the Hall for any signs of Remus’ attacker. The rest of breakfast carried on as usual, the rest of your friends joining you for the meal. 

Sirius walked you and Mary to class, giving you each a courteous bow. 

“Shall I pick you up after your lesson, my fair ladies?” he said in a deep bow, with a rigid posh accent. “The gentlemen and I were planning on.. err.. skipping our courses.” 

You giggled at Sirius’ poor attempt of finding a replacement word for “skip”.

“Yeah, why not. See ya then, Black!” Mary turned towards the door.

“I bid you farewell my lovelies!” he then proceeded to bound down the hallway to Astronomy, which was on the complete opposite side of the castle. 

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

Your class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, passed fairly quickly. And just as he had promised, Sirius came to pick you up, now with James and Marlene in tow. 

Marlene beamed at the sight of you and Mary. 

“Thank Godric you’re here! I was getting tired of these two.”

James gave her a light shove. “We’ll be meeting Moony and Wormtail towards the east end.”

“Couldn’t convince Lily to come along?”

James looked like he was about to protest, but sighed in defeat. You and your friends continued down the corridor, eventually meeting Remus and Peter after their rigorous Astronomy note-taking. You soon found yourself squished between James and Remus, marching down the main hallway.

“Hey, I thought we were sticking to the east end?”

“Silly (Y/N), we were meeting in the east end.” Sirius explained, as if he were speaking to a child. “Now, we’re on our way to the west end.”

“Ah right, and it makes perfect sense to take the busiest corridor in the school.” Mary quipped, and Marlene giggled.

The walk was pleasant, and filled with greetings from fellow classmates. Every now and then, James and Sirius would snicker about something, or mutter jokes to the group. It was then, that you saw him.

Michael Bershire, proud and tall, lead his pack of nuisances opposite you down the bright hallway. Most students ducked out of the way to avoid him, and a few first years were visibly shaking at the sight of him.  

Your vision went red as you locked eyes on your target. It was time.

“James,” you slipped your bag off and passed it to your left, “mind holding this f’me?”

“Uh, yeah su- (Y/N)!!”

In the blink of an eye, you had left your friends’ sides and found yourself hurtling towards Bershire. Although you were smaller than him, the sheer impact of your collision with him knocked the two of you off your feet. You landed on top on him. 

He knocked his head off the stone floor, and for a moment you thought he’d lost consciousness. But the bewildered look in his eyes told you otherwise. It was now or never. 

“YOU BLOODY BASTARD!” you screamed, letting hell rain down on Michael Bershire. You swung left and right, pummeling his once perfectly sculpted face. You could feel the bruises forming on your knuckles already. “HOW DARE YOU TOUCH REMUS LUPIN?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU BLITHERING FUCK!”

Somehow, Bershire had managed to wrap his legs around your waist, pulling you towards him and flipping your bodies so that you were beneath him. He pinned your wrists beside your head, and you felt the concrete sting your hands. 

‘No, how dare you, you muddy little bitch?!”

And that’s what set you off. You produced a sound that could only be described as a battle cry, and flung your forehead up and into his. Distracted by the headbutt, Bershire’s tense core loosened the slightest bit. It was enough for you crunch up and bring your knees into his groin, causing him to cry out in pain. 

Using his own momentum against him, you successfully flipped around again, resuming your position above his quivering form. Your hands found themselves around his throat, and without realizing it, you were bashing his head in the ground. 

thunk, thunk, thunk.

It was only Professor McGonagall’s shrill cry of fear that brought you back to reality. 

“MISS (L/N), GET OFF OF THAT BOY!”

You felt strong hands wrap around your arms and shoulders, whipping around to see that it was the four Marauders pulling you away from Bershire. The Slytherin gang was dragging said boy’s writhing and groaning form onto a cot from the hospital wing. 

You only stopped your kicking and resistance when McGonagall approached you, pointing her finger in your face, looking more angry than you’d ever seen her. 

“My office. Now.” she spoke, in such a tone that visible shivers went down your spine. The boys had yet to let go of your arms, and half carried you down the hallway of gawking and goggling students. 

Once arriving to her office, McGonagall stood in the doorway. She looked expectant and impatient all wrapped into one. You were finally let go of, and slowly turned to the four boys behind you. 

James and Peter still looked a bit shocked, and you found little comfort in the proud look Sirius was trying to hide. But Remus’ face is what hurt you the most.

“Rem, I-” you croaked. He wouldn’t even look at you. “I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

McGonagall cleared her throat bitterly behind you, cutting you off. You whispered another, barely audible “I’m sorry”, before following the Professor into her office. 

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

Hello my lovelies!! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Let me know if I should follow up with this fic! 

Also, a reminder that requests are open!! <3

~Aurora

[mfingenius]

Hey, I’d love a drarry in 4th year where Draco is Harry’s second task and/or they go together to the Yule Ball (a lot of provocation between them!)

Harry's staring; logically, he knows he should hurry, knows he doesn't have time to simply float around, contemplating life, but Malfoy is there, floating motionlessly beside Hermione and Gabrielle Delacour and Harry is confused.

Cho was obviously Cedric's task; that had been clear enough even before Cedric had grabbed her - while Harry had just watched, as confused as he is now - and Hermione has to be Krum's. There's no Durmstrang student, and - as far as Harry knows - Krum only talks to Hermione.

Gabrielle Delacour is Fleur's. She's her sister, it's as simple as that.

Which means that whoever designed this Merlin forsaken task thought Malfoy was 'what he'd sorely miss'.

Where the fuck were they getting their information?

Harry's startled out of his silent shock when Krum pushes by, half transformed into a shark, and frees Hermione.

He gives him an odd look while he swims back up, which is quite an impressive feat with what is possibly the least expressive animal's head as his own.

Right.

Right.

He frees Malfoy with a quick Diffindo, and grabs his wrist so he won't simply go away while he looks around; his time must be almost up - he can almost feel it, the effect of the gillyweed beginning to fade, his lungs beginning to feel unpleasant with water in them - which means Fleur needs to show up to get her sister, soon, but she's just - not.

He looks at Malfoy's face; he looks unexpectedly young and - handsome, almost - like this. There's no denying his aristocratic nose and high cheekbones are appealing - at least to Harry, who doesn't know how Ron could possibly think Malfoy's 'weird-looking' - but Harry doesn't usually have time to appreciate it, since Malfoy immediately ruins it by opening his mouth.

Fleur is still not showing up.

Gabrielle, who looks exactly like Fleur, looks like a kid even to Harry; if he'd been deemed too young to participate in the games, why is everyone in this task as young as he is, or younger?

Surely, he tries to reassure himself, the heads of school wouldn't let them rot here.

Even if the egg said they would, even if it said it 'wouldn't come back'. These are children.

Harry only has to ponder half a moment more before he decides that he doesn't trust adults that much.

A matching Diffindo frees Gabrielle, and he drags her and Malfoy up with merepeople grabbing at his feet, with his lungs filling with water, heart bursting in his chest and vision darkening at the edges because he can't breathe and he can't get out and-

He breaks the surface and hears screaming, and he's coughing up water and maybe blood - or maybe it's not his, but someone is bleeding, because the water around them is turning pink - and he wants to sink right back down, wants to rest.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle!" Fleur's shrieking is louder than anyone else's, but Harry thinks that's fair; he's never had a sibling, but he can't imagine thinking they were going to die because of a school approved activity.

Everyone else is cheering, he realizes; they're happy for him, for them, they think this is good.

He manages to catch sight of Cedric's, Krum's, and Fleur's faces, and none of them look like they're feeling anything even slightly positive.

"Potter?" He finally looks at Malfoy. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

Harry can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him. What is he doing? What was Malfoy doing, representing the thing Harry would sorely miss? Dumbledore - or the merepeople, or whoever made this decision - could've taken Ron, could've taken any Weasley, hell, they could've taken bloody Mrs. Norris, and Harry thinks they would've been a better choice than Malfoy.

He tightens his grip around Malfoy's and Gabrielle's arms, and begins dragging them towards the other contestants; as soon as they're there, hands are reaching in and pulling them all out, wrapping them in blankets, and Fleur is hugging Gabrielle and crying and Malfoy's teeth are chattering and Harry can still feel water in his lungs and he can't think.

"Merlin, Harry, you're bleeding!" Hermione exclaims.

Harry looks down and realizes she's right; the merepeople got him with their claws.

"Come on," she says, cheeks red from the cold. "We'll get you to the infirmary."

*

Slytherins keep making kissy sounds at him in the hallways, and it gets worse whenever Malfoy is around; he'd think this is Malfoy's doing, except the bastard looks just as embarrassed as Harry - if not more than Harry - when it happens.

They can't quite even look at each other anymore, let alone argue, because if they even say a word to each other, there are three dozen people suddenly watching.

Which is how Harry finds out he would kind of miss Malfoy if he were gone.

In the totally not friendly, even less romantic, entirely normal rival kind of way.

Obviously.

He likes to think Malfoy misses him a little bit too.

Which is, of course, why Harry seeks him out after checking the Marauders' map and making sure there's no one else within a hundred meters of them.

"What the-" Harry has to cover Malfoy's mouth, because if not, it would ruin his plan of quietly shoving Malfoy into the broom shed.

"Shut up, you git," he says, looking around and shutting the door behind him; Malfoy bites his hand, hard, and Harry muffles a yelp, pulling it back.

Malfoy smirks, looking quite pleased with himself, and Harry glares.

"What do you want?" Malfoy asks, looking around and upturning his nose; his features are decidedly less appealing when he's talking; Harry wants to shut him up. "Why'd you bring me here? It's disgusting, Potter."

And yeah, okay, the broom shed isn't quite nice - it has just as many spiders and much more dust than Harry's old cupboard under the stairs - but it's not like they could talk anywhere else.

"I didn't want other people listening," he says.

Malfoy looks at him incredulously. "Listening to what?"

Which makes Harry realize that he didn't really have a plan after this, and yeah, it might've been a bad idea.

What does he want to do? Talk to Malfoy? Apologize? For what? Insult the bastard? Argue? It wouldn't be too hard, considering Malfoy's a pointy, contrarious git, but Harry suddenly doesn't know why he dragged Malfoy in here, either.

He can't let Malfoy know that.

"You never thanked me," he says.

Malfoy's look turns more incredulous, first, and then his eyes narrow furiously, jaw tightening.

"Thanked you for what, Potter?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Making sure every single person in this awful school thinks we're secretly dating? Making sure I can't get down a bloody hallway without some idiotic Gryffindor asking me something beyond inappropriate about you? Making my parents think there's something going on between us so they're threatening to disown me?"

"What?" Harry asks, immediately thrown off. "Your parents would disown you if we were dating?"

Malfoy looks taken aback, like he didn't expect himself to say that, and he looks away. "Forget it. I'm not thanking you."

"Your parents would disown you for dating me?" Harry asks, still stuck on that fact. "Why?"

Malfoy looks troubled, and he shakes his head, looking at the door like he wants to flee; unfortunately for him, Harry's blocking it.

"Are we done here?" he asks. "I'd really rather not spend time in a shed with you."

"Oh, please, you'd love to spend time in a shed with me." Harry rolls his eyes, because he, too, is easy to goad into an argument, as long as it's Malfoy doing the goading.

"Yeah? What part of this do you think I'm loving?" Malfoy asks drily.

Harry doesn't have an answer except for the realization that he himself isn't having the worst time of his life. He isn't even having the worst time he's had today.

"Arguing," he says dumbly.

Malfoy looks at him incredulously again, and then he shakes his head, almost to himself.

"Go to the infirmary, Potter," he says, sliding past him, twisting himself in an almost impressive way so he doesn't touch Harry at all. "Tell Pomfrey to check for head injuries."

"Would you care if I did have a head injury?" Harry asks, already knowing he doesn't have one but not willing to quite reject the idea, because he's enjoying time with Malfoy. He's enjoying arguing with Malfoy.

Malfoy snorts and rolls his eyes. "Sure, Potter. If you end up in the infirmary with a head injury, I'll visit and even bring you flowers, I pinky swear."

He leaves the shed, and leaves Harry blinking after him.

------------------------------------------------------

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Commissions

[drarryangels]

Prompts are open! Professors!Drarry, husbands, one tells students all about his husband. No one knows who that is. Until one day sth clues them in. And everyone's like - WHAAAA?! Bets are lost. McG is amused.

Hello there! This is the oldest prompt in my ask box, haha! So sorry it took like two years to get around to this.... *blushes*

Anyways, I hope you like!

-

“That will be all for today,” Harry says. “You can have the rest of the period to work.”

He leans back against his desk and watches the scramble of students trying to pair off with their friends. He smiles and shakes his head. Every day is the same. Gloriously, marvelously, wonderfully the same.

“Professor Potter?”

Harry looks over to one of his students, a slight teenage girl with her hair tied up into three ponytails. “Yes, Miss Wimblefon?”

She twirls a curl of hair around her finger and smiles up at him. “I had a question for you. About the assignment.”

Harry sighs and waves his hand. “Ask away.”

“You said that the enchantment only works if the user is truly in love,” she begins.

Harry nods and folds his arms. “Precisely. Which is why you are only working on the theoretical application of this spell, and not trying to use it on your classmates.”

Jane giggles. “I’m in love. Can I give it a try?”

Harry stands up and brushes off the front of his robes. “You most certainly may not, Miss Wimblefon. As much as I am pleased by your interest in the subject, it’s not appropriate nor safe to produce the enchantment even when one is truly in love, and I have the strong suspicion that you are not.”

Jane’s cheeks go red. “Well, what does the spell do anyways?” she says, crossing her arms and huffing.

“An excellent question,” Harry says. “An easily answered one if you do your reading.” He holds his hand out to the classroom, and she gives him one last glare before turning on her heel and taking a seat with Mildred Daney.

*

“Merlin,” Harry says, dropping down onto the bed and spreading his arms out wide.

“What is it?” Draco asks, emerging from the bathroom and leaning against the door frame with his toothbrush stuck out of his mouth. “Jane flirting with you again?”

Harry groans and rolls over on the bed. “How did you know?”

Draco disappears to spit out his toothpaste, and then returns, smelling of mint and citrus shampoo. He climbs up the bed and drops down beside Harry, curling an arm around his waist and pressing his nose in the back of his neck.

“Because she’s the exact same with me,” Draco sighs. “Always playing with that bloody hair of hers.”

“She’s a sixth year already,” Harry says to the wall. “Isn’t this a bit odd?”

Draco nuzzles in closer behind Harry. “Someone should tell her that if she keeps tugging at that hair, it will all fall out by the time she’s twenty.”

Harry laughs. “Don’t you dare, Draco. Her mother will tear down the school.”

Draco bumps his head between Harry’s shoulder blades. “Well, then it will be McGonagall’s problem.”

Harry twists and rolls over to face Draco, his face smiling and bright. “You know,” Harry says, touching their noses together. “I think you may be right.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes,” Harry says and pushes himself on top of Draco, knees on either sides of his hips and arms around his shoulders. “Get Jane out of our hair.” He sets his head down on Draco’s chest. “And while we’re waiting for her mother to Floo in, we can plan our joint funeral, hm?”

“Bit early, isn’t it?” Draco says. He lifts his hands and rubs them up and down Harry’s back.

“Oh, no. Not at all,” Harry says. He lifts his head up and grins at Draco. “In fact, it may be a bit late if McGonagall has anything to do with it.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Forget I said anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” Harry says, and drops his head back down on Draco’s chest.

Draco is so warm, so soft. Nice. A weight tethering him to the ground, to sanity.

“Good night,” Harry sighs.

Draco smacks his bum. “Get up and brush your teeth, you buffoon.”

Harry groans as Draco pushes him away, all the way off of the bed.

“Why?” Harry wails as he hits the ground with a great oof.

“Because I love you,” Draco says happily before sending a stinging jinx in the direction of Harry’s backside. “Very, very much.”

*

“Hello, Professor Potter,” Jane says. She’s twirling her hair again.

“Hello, Miss Wimblefon,” Harry says over his breakfast potatoes. “May I help you with something?”

“Yes,” she says, looking rather pleased with herself with her chin all drawn up. “The book says that the enchantment provides a binding connection to the user’s true love. One that doesn’t break until death.”

Harry squirts some ketchup onto his plate. “Almost correct.”

“What?”

Harry picks up a piece of bacon. “Almost correct. The enchantment doesn’t die after death. That’s why it’s so complicated. It must be a mutual bonding, and both parties must be truly in love with the other. And the bond doesn’t break after death, which opens up a certain realm of questioning about putting intention behind spells.”

Jane shakes her head hard. “What does it benefit though? Why engage in such complicated and dangerous magic? What does it do?”

Harry smiles and sets his bacon down. “Miss Wimblefon, would you mind continuing this conversation during our class time? I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

Draco snorts beside him.

Jane glances over at Draco briefly and narrows her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak again, but Draco looks up from his hash and stares at her with wide grey eyes. Too wide to really be attractive, people have said before. Harry likes them.

“Right then,” she says, and runs off.

“Bless you,” Harry says, linking his pinkie into Draco’s.

Draco raises his eyebrows. “Harry.”

“Yes, my love?” Harry smiles at him. Innocently, very innocently.

“Why are you teaching verus amor est alliges duplicia?” Draco glares at him, and squeezes hard with his pinkie finger. “That’s extremely complicated magic.”

Harry shrugs. “No reason at all.”

Draco sighs and winds the rest of his fingers through Harry’s. “Oh, Harry.”

Harry grins. “Oh, Draco.”

*

“It’s class time now,” Jane says.

Harry glances up at his charmed clock over the archway in his office. “Not quite, Miss Wimblefon.”

“Well,” she says, already sitting down in the chair opposite him. “I didn’t want to interrupt your lecture, so I thought I’d pop in early.”

“Right,” Harry says. It’s probably best to get this over with. Maybe if Harry answers all her questions, she’ll leave him alone. “Go on then.”

“I’m curious to know what is the purpose of the spell.” She folds her hands on Harry’s desk and leans forward.

Harry pushes his chair back slightly. “It’s an irreversible connection with the person who loves you most in the world. It links you together. So, theoretically, if one half of the pairing was hurt, the other would know it. If something good has happened to one, the other feels their happiness.”

“So they share feelings?” Jane asks.

“No,” Harry says. “It’s not sharing. It’s just a sense. An added knowledge.”

“And what else?” she demands.

“It can act as a protective charm, if in dire circumstances,” Harry says. “A bubble of defense, if the two are physically close.”

Jane sighs and kicks her loafers on the floor. “It sounds fine, but not worth the magic.”

Harry smiles. He’d felt the same way when he’d first learned of it. “Well it’s more than that. The best part about it is the connection. It is difficult to explain, even for those who have experienced it. It is a joining of skin, two souls being one, a linking of magic. It is being melded with another person, body, soul, and mind. It is having them with you, always.”

Jane’s mouth opens a bit. “Er. Professor Potter?”

“Yes?” Harry asks pleasantly.

“Are you bonded to someone?” Jane asks, looking scared and excited all at once.

“To my husband, yes,” Harry says, and smiles at her.

Jane falls out of her chair.

*

It takes another four days after Jane faints in Harry’s office before she comes to confront him again.

“You’re completely oblivious to it,” Draco is saying to Harry. “He has an excellent aptitude for Potions. He’s very talented, really.”

They’re in greenhouse four, so Draco can collect clippings for a potion in his classes the next day. Harry hovers by Draco’s side, not doing anything particularly useful.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Please, you should see him in Defense. I might as well transfigure him into a hippo, and see if it changes the results.”

Draco touches a hand to his chest. “My, my, Harry. I think you’re spending too much time with me.”

Harry pushes at him. “I know I am. Thank Merlin for it.”

“Professor Potter?”

Harry trips and nearly stumbles over into a collection of finger eating bushes before Draco grabs his sleeve and hauls him up.

“Hello, Miss Wimblefon,” Draco says coolly. “May I ask you what you’re doing out of bed at this hour?”

Her eyes pass over Draco. “Professor Potter, I have more questions for you.”

Harry is still choking on his breath. “Er. Yes. Miss Wimblefon, can we resume this conversation at a later time?”

“No,” she says, and comes to stand next to him. “Carry on with your walk. I’ll simply join in.”

They have no choice but to walk.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Jane begins immediately as they’re leaving the greenhouse. “Especially not to a man.”

Draco throws an elbow in Harry’s direction and raises both his eyebrows in question. What is she talking about? he mouths. Harry shakes his head. He has no idea.

“So you’ve performed verus amor est alliges duplicia.”

Draco straightens up beside Harry. He chooses not to look over at him for fear of being burned to the ground with the look on Draco’s face.

“Quite,” Harry says.

“With whom?”

Harry stops. “What do you mean with whom?”

He looks over at Draco, who looks just as bewildered as Harry does, his irritation at Harry’s curriculum forgotten.

Jane stops too and looks back at them. “Who are you married to?”

Harry could fall over laughing.

Draco speaks before he can. “Miss Wimblefon. What is my name?”

Jane finally looks at him. “Professor Potter?”

“Yes.” Draco says very slowly. “My name is Draco Potter.”

Jane shakes her head, still looking confused. “So?”

Draco huffs and flicks his hair off his cheekbones. “So I share a last name with Harry Potter. Who do you think I am?”

“Potter is a common name, it’s not weird that you both have....” Her eyes go wide. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Draco snaps. “Merlin and Arthur, these children get dimmer every year. Potter’s a common name. Honestly!”

Jane turns and takes off running up to the castle.

Harry lets out a breath and holds out his hand for Draco to take. “I think you’re right, love. They really are getting dimmer.”

Draco takes his hand, gentle. “Why did we choose this career path anyways?”

Harry shrugs and they begin the walk up to the castle together. “Good pay?”

Draco blows out a hard laugh. “Good pay, indeed.”

*

Jane Wimblefon tells the entire school that Professor Harry Potter and Professor Draco Potter are married at breakfast the next day.

Harry drops his head into his hands and Draco rolls his eyes. Headmistress McGonagall stands up briskly and walks right out of the Great Hall. Hagrid bursts out laughing before knocking over the entire front table, and Professor Flitwick along with it.

The students go into a frenzy, jumping up and running from table to table, expressions of shock painted over their faces.

“Forget dim,” Draco says, looking out over the chaos. “This generation is entirely brain dead.”

Harry laughs so hard he gets marmalade in his hair.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 6

You continue the tale of how you, James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter became known as The Marauders.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2    CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 6 .:The Making of the Marauders:.

~Previously~

“That was when they were first starting to put the map together,” you continued, “but that wasn't even the biggest secret they had. Of course, I wouldn't find out about that for another year. . .”

“So at this point I knew that they were hiding something else, but not what it was,” you told Harry, continuing on with your story, “But one night we had planned to meet up and use the invisibility cloak to map out the underground tunnels that ran through the storage cellars, and they never showed up. So I snuck into the Gryffindor common room through the secret passage and found their dorm completely empty. But what was there was our work in progress map. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1975  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This isn't going to work,” Peter said flatly, watching James and Sirius draw a large circle in chalk on the floor of the Shrieking Shack.

“Not with that attitude it's not,” James said, “if there's a way we can speed up this process I'm willing to give it a go. I don't know how long I can go on with this bloody leaf in my mouth.”

“Is this even real?” Peter sighed, “it looks like what muggles think magic is.”

“It's real all right,” Sirius said, “old, but real. I mean, Transfiguration was founded on the principles of magic circles! I'm not really sure what these runes on the side mean, but it's probably not important.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Peter retorted, “Remus, back me up here.”

He turned towards Lupin, but he had long since dozed off, arms crossed as he leaned against one of the nearly decaying walls in the corner. Peter sighed, taking a piece of paper from the ground and crumpling it into a ball before promptly throwing it in the sleeping boy's face. Lupin jolted awake, realizing what had happened and chucking the paper back at Peter in annoyance.

“Not a moment of peace,” he huffed under his breath.

“Sounds awfully boring,” James said over his shoulder.

“Blimey, what time is it?” Remus said, panicked as he noticed the light had completely gone from the sky, “It's long past sundown.”

“So?” Sirius shrugged.

“So, we told (Y/n) we'd meet them to work on the map at dusk,” Remus said, “They're probably looking for us right now!”

“Oh, they are,” you announced your presence, an unimpressed look on your face as they jumped, whipping around to look at you.

“(Y-Y/n)!” Sirius stuttered, “how did you—”

You held up the map, raising a brow at the four guilty looking boys.

“Right. . .”

“You snuck into our rooms?!” James said incredulously as he saw the map, which he was sure he had left on his bedside table, in your hands.

“You've snuck into my shower before, Potter,” you glared lightly at him.

“Point taken.”

“Okay, look, I'm sorry we didn't show tonight, and I know we've been acting weird,” Sirius sighed, “the truth is—”

“Lupin's a werewolf.” 

The color drained from Remus' face, slightly mortified that you already knew.

“Come on, guys,” you said, “the claw marks and you lot disappearing whenever there's a full moon kind of gave it away. You aren't exactly subtle about it.”

You could sense the intense nervousness in the room, especially from Remus. Ok, so maybe coming right out with it wasn't the best course of action.

“Look,” you said, “if you're worried about anyone else finding out, they won't. I mean, the only reason I even knew you were here is because I'm literally helping you make a magical map that details all the secret passages and shows where everyone is. I won't tell anyone, I swear.”

They still seemed a little unsure, and you bit the inside of your lip slightly.

“If it'll make us even, I'll let you know a secret of my own,” you said, “it can even be future blackmail me if you really don't trust me.”

“No, it's not that, (Y/n),” Remus said as he stepped forward, his throat feeling dry, “it's just, well, I've never really told anyone except the people in this room. Having someone else know. . . it's just a lot to process, but if had to be anyone I'm glad it's you.” He paused for a moment, feeling oddly self-conscious as he regarded you. “When I turn into a werewolf I can't recognize any human as someone I know. I have no control over myself in that state. In the worst case scenario, I could injure or even kill someone I didn't mean to. We originally started taking note of the secret passages and rooms to find a place where I could turn safely and not hurt anyone, and we settled on here. I don't remember much when I come out of it, but. . . I do feel this painful sense of separation each time. Werewolves are pack creatures by nature, so being isolated in that state is. . . agony, if I must be honest. They all figured, I can't recognize humans, but perhaps I could recognize other animals, so. . .”

“They're trying to become animagi,” you finished, “so you won't have to be alone. That's. . . that's actually really sweet,” you said, a breathy laugh escaping you.

Remus thanked Merlin the Shrieking Shack was as dimly lit as it was so his beet red face was at least somewhat less noticeable.

“I agree,” Remus said, turning to his friends and sharing a rare, genuine moment with them. “And, you don't have to tell us your secret,” he said, turning back to you, “it's okay.”

“Hey, I wanted to know,” Sirius said, Peter swiftly elbowing him in the ribs.

“I was actually planning on telling you anyways,” you said, “If you guys are trying to become animagi, I can help you.”

You took a few steps back, bracing yourself against the wall.

“Promise me you won't freak out.”

After receiving a few quick nods, you kicked off the wall. Your body seemed to morph in mid-air, shrinking and re-configuring so fast that by the time you landed on the floor you had been entirely replaced by a large, (e/c)-eyed wolf with fur reminiscent of your hair.

Peter yelped, instinctively putting Sirius in front of him who was gawking at the sight. Remus was in complete shock and you could have sworn you saw James' glasses slip down his face.

In your animal form your heightened senses could sense their fear, and you tried your best to assuage it. You padded around in a circle, sitting down and blinking up at them to try and show them you were in control of your actions. After you figured they'd seen enough, you crawled back into your robes, which had pooled on the floor when you'd transfigured, and willed your body to turn back.

James, Sirius, and Peter looked somewhere in the intersection of shocked and terrified, but Remus looked nothing less than impressed.

“That's amazing, (Y/n),” he said breathlessly, “your transformation was seamless, how long have you had this ability?”

“My aunt had me go through the process when I was nine,” you said, a bitter edge to your voice as you fastened your clothes back around you, “it's not fun, but obviously useful. And thank you, but trust me, it didn't come at all naturally to me. I spent a good part of my winter break stuck with a wolf's hind legs, which is just as inconvenient as it sounds.”

“But this proves that it's possible!” James said, a new rush of energy invigorating him, “we can actually pull this off.”

“If I can manage to keep this sodding leaf from choking me every ten minutes,” Peter grumbled.

“Here, this should help with that,” you said, drawing your wand and pointing it at Peter's mouth. With a simple sticking charm, he suddenly felt the odd sensation of the leaf in his mouth disappearing, only to find it had melded with the flesh on the underside of his tongue.

“It's a long process, but yes, it's possible,” you said to James. Your eyes drifted to the floor where the magic circle and pages of runes were still scattered about, “if you were thinking of taking shortcuts, you might have wanted to read the warning about this spell requiring a blood sacrifice.”

The quartet paled and you laughed at their dumbstruck expressions.

“Kidding,” you grinned, “but seriously, there's no shortcuts. Now look alive, boys. We have a lot of work to do.”

_________________________________________________________

From then on, you helped the four wizards along on their quest to become fully fledged shifters.

“In order to become an animagus, a wizard must keep a Mandrake leaf in their mouth for an entire month, even when eating and sleeping,” Peter read aloud from the book they'd snatched from the restricted section, “Next, under a full moon, the wizard must place the leaf in a vial full of dew that has neither been stepped on nor exposed to the sun. The resulting potion must be stored in a dark place, and the following incantation: Amato Animo Animato Animagus, must be recited every morning until an electrical storm arrives, at which point the potion can be taken.”

“Blimey, all that to turn into a bloody cat?” Sirius said, exasperated.

“Well we have the first part almost done,” James said, feeling the faintest outline of the leaf still under his tongue, “Next full moon we'll have to go dew-hunting, I suppose. Looks like you'll have to stick it out for a few more cycles, Moony,” he said to Remus.

“That's alright,” he said, “I've made it this far.”

“He won't be alone for those,” you said, “I'll spend the full moons with him until you guys are ready.”

“What?” James said, looking at you like you'd just told him you were off to join Voldemort, “not a chance, that's way too dangerous.”

“Aw, don't act like you're all concerned about me all of a sudden, Potter,” you smirked. When his expression didn't change it took you aback slightly. He was actually worried about you. “Look, I'm probably the best suited for it anyways,” you said, coughing a bit to coast through the awkward tension, “Remus and I are both wolves, or at least partly. If one of you end up turning into a sheep or something you might be dead meat, not to freak you out or anything.”

“That's reassuring,” Sirius said under his breath.

____________________________________________________________

“You really don't have to do this,” Lupin insisted as you sat on the floor together in the Shrieking Shack later that month.

“I want to,” you assured him, “take it as a thanks for helping me pass Arithmancy. Besides, it's a perfectly fine excuse for me to practice interacting with other animals in my animagus form.”

The boy beside you was quiet for a moment, shoulders tense and jaw set tight. It wasn't that he wasn't happy you were here, he was more grateful than you could know, but he was terrified that he was going to end up hurting you. On top of that was the fact that he didn't want you to see him as he transformed. It wasn't pretty, and it was visibly painful. He didn't want you to think any lower of him, though he knew that fear was irrational.

The calming jazz record that spun on the other side of the room was the only noise between you two for quite some time, but you understood that he needed time to gather his thoughts. This was something so deeply personal you were surprised and a bit honored he allowed you to be here at all. You noticed the photograph that he held in his hands; it was of Hogwarts, taken from the very edge of the forest. The sun was peeking over the horizon, spilling out between the complexly constructed towers that made up the castle's exterior, and casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape.

“It's beautiful,” you said, “the picture.”

“It is,” Remus smiled to himself and nodded, “James gave it to me, as a reminder. He said that matter what happens during the full moon, the sun will always rise on us again.”

“Huh,” you mused softly, “perhaps he isn't such an insufferable jerk after all.”

“Oh, no, he is,” Lupin chuckled, “but he is also a very good friend, and endlessly thoughtful even if he denies it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. You supposed he was.

“Well,” you said, laughing a bit as you shifted in your seat, “this isn't as deep and meaningful as the photo, but I brought something for you.” You reached into your bag, retrieving something that made Remus' eyes widen.

“Where did you get that?” he said, elated as you held out his favorite chocolate bar which had been out of stock at Hogsmeade for weeks now.

“You guys have a secret tunnel that goes right to the Honeydukes cellar and you've never taken advantage of their storage?” you grinned.

Lupin hesitated as he held the bar in his hands.

“So you stole it?”

“I left five dracma in the tip jar,” you rolled your eyes, “I'm not a death eater.”

His smiled returned at that, and he ripped open the familiar foil gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“It's the least I could do,” you said.

“It's really not,” he said, turning to face you fully. You were left a bit breathless as the unexpected intensity of his eyes. “None of this is the least you could do, because the least you could do is nothing,” he continued, rambling, “we were so horrible to someone you consider a dear friend, and you were willing to look past that. You're risking your life by even being with me right now, (Y/n).”

“You don't—”

“I do know that,” Remus said sharply, “I've never been in contact with anyone as a werewolf. The one time I was, I. . .” he trailed off, and it hurt you to see his pained expression, “I just don't know how I'll react.”

“You're saying that as if something bad's already happened,” you said gently, “it'll be okay.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asked quietly, equally full of frustration and admiration.

“I'm willing to put my trust in you, Remus. I think it's time you put some trust in yourself.”

Lupin's heart pounded a little harder in his chest. Had you ever called him by his first name before? You looked at him so reassuringly, so confidently. He couldn't understand it, but your words reached him to his core.

“(Y/n). . .” he trailed off, blinking rapidly. A shaky breath escaped him, and your stomach dropped.

“Remus?”

Suddenly you saw something shift in him. His breathing became heavy and his pupils dilated, completely filling his irises in a matter of seconds. He braced himself against the wall as he stumbled to his feet, his skin slowly taking on a gray hue.

“It's happening,” he said, voice deeper and strained, his neck convulsing, “you have to transform, now!”

You didn't waste any time, taking the shape of your wolf form and padding away a cautionary distance. Your stomach churned as you watched Remus yell out, his expression full of pain as his body grew in size, his cries slowly becoming reminiscent of howls. His face contorted in agony as his head morphed into a more animalistic shape, ears growing from his scalp and fur appearing as if his werewolf was fully formed inside him, physically escaping through his skin. You've seen werewolves before, but seeing someone you know actually turn into one, it was completely different. Nothing could have prepared you for this. Seeing anyone in this much pain made your chest tighten harshly.

At last it seemed the transformation was complete. Remus Lupin was gone, and in front of you stood a creature of at least eight feet, perched on his hind legs and towering over you especially in your animal form. You could hear how ragged his breathing had become, his body convulsing with the motion; growing and retracting like a beating heart. You heard a whimper escape his throat, and you could tell he was still recovering from the pain.

You steeled yourself, making the decision to alert him to your presence subtly. You tilted your head upwards, releasing a similar sounding whimper to his. Immediately the werewolf across from you was on high alert, his head snapping towards you and his lips pulling back into a snarl as his ears lowered. You took an instinctive step back, lowering your head slowly. He seemed puzzled by your behavior, which made sense seeing as Lupin told you he never interacted with any other animals during the full moon. His head tilted inquisitively and he took a heavy step forward. You forced yourself to not back away, testing the waters. His eyes narrowed again as he saw you standing your ground, but you quickly sat down, your head tilting to expose your neck slightly. You made doubly sure not to show any signs of aggression; you knew you had no chance against a werewolf at full strength.

However, he seemed to take your queues well. His tail seemed to relax a bit, his eyes returning to their full, round shape as he looked at you with curiosity. You sniffed up at him and he hesitated, but eventually circled around you and did the same. You could almost see the turmoil in him, as a werewolf you doubted anyone he came across treated him with anything less than terror in their eyes, but you were completely relaxed.

He whimpered again, and you were shocked at the sign of submission. You rose to your feet, and he didn't back away. You let out a friendly yip, which he returned, and you felt the weight lift off your chest. You leaped to the side, and he followed you, running alongside you as you bounded across the room, practically leaping off the walls. You jumped at each other playfully, rolling across the floor in a mess of fur. You smiled inwardly as this continued throughout the night, no longer seeing fear or pain or aggression in his eyes when you looked into them. Even if he wouldn't remember most of this, you hoped he would at least feel better in the morning than all the times he had to go through it alone.

Exhausted from all the playing around, you padded softly back to your robes, crawling inside yours and and gesturing over to him with your head. He followed you, coming down to all fours before laying beside you. You weren't sure when sleep came over you, but it was like the world's most comfortable blanket had been thrown over your shoulders, and your eyes drifted closed of their own volition. . .

“Merlin's beard, just what were you two doing last night?!”

You and Remus both jolted awake at the sound of James Potter's aggravatingly loud voice but quickly came to your senses. Remus' arms were wrapped around you, your back facing him. You were just barely covered by your robes with nothing underneath as a result of your transformation. As you scrambled to get decent your face heated even more as you saw Remus was currently without a shirt, his pants ripped considerably. You scrambled away from each other, trying to make yourselves decent.

Peter was howling with laughter, James looking smug as ever. Sirius was oddly quiet, but you were too wrapped up in the embarrassment to notice his behavior.

“What was that about being 'endlessly thoughtful'?” you grumbled to Remus.

“Right, I completely take back what I said,” he scoffed, “ 'insufferable jerk' is much more accurate.”

“Close your eyes, you perverted git!” you yelled at James, who was blatantly staring at you, “toss me my clothes at least, would you?”

James bit back a smirk as he grabbed your bag that was sitting in the corner of the room— clothes you had brought with the intention of changing into after returning to your human form when Lupin fell asleep. He tossed it over to you and you began to change under your robes. As his back was turned to you his mind began to wander. You'd always been attractive, sure, but since you'd always been his rival he hadn't really given you a second thought, especially when he'd been trying to get Lily's attention for ages. But just now, thinking about how downright adorable you looked when you'd yelled at him, something in him shifted. He shook it off quickly, turning to Lupin with a grin he'd managed to put on concernedly fast.

“You cheeky bastard,” he said to Remus, who was furiously changing into a new shirt, “you just wanted her alone, didn't you? Do you really need us to become animagi after all?”

“You're the worst, Potter,” the werewolf glared at him.

“Don't listen to him, Remus,” you grumbled, straightening out your tie as you slipped it on over your shirt, “he's an even bigger idiot than he looks.”

“Are you implying I look stupid?”

“Implying may not be a strong enough word.”

__________________________________________________________

It had taken months of brewing the potion and getting all the necessary preparations in order, but they were finally ready. Remus sat with you in the grass, wand at the ready to undo any untoward transfiguration that happened on accident. Peter, Sirius, and James stood across from you, standing at the edge of a stone ledge about five feet off the ground. You'd said that a leap of faith is what would best trigger their first transformation. They looked nervous, but they were prepared as they'd ever be. Over the last year you had grown considerably closer to the four boys you had miraculously come to know as friends.

“Remember, focus on your emotions,” you said, “you need to pick a strong one, let it fill your body and flow through you. If you block the magic off from any part of your body, it's not going to be pretty.”

“Right, but how do I—”

“James, I swear, I'm really rooting for you to be a mute animal.”

“But how do you choose-”

“Just do it already!”

“Oh, sod it,” James squeezed his eyes shut, not giving himself time to second guess before jumping off the ledge. For a moment he was certain he was about to land face first in the dirt, but then it happened— a moment where time seemed to freeze and his body felt completely weightless. He felt this sensation where his arms and legs vibrated with an intense, foreign energy. Images flashed through his mind in that brief moment in the air; Sirius manically laughing as they ran away from Filch, Remus snapping off a piece of chocolate to offer him after he'd lost Gryffindor a Quidditch match, and, unexpectedly, you. A feeling of warmth spread through his chest, and he grasped onto it, letting it flow through his body like you said. In an instant he felt torso shift, his shoulders narrow, his neck elongate; and when he landed on the ground he still landed face-first as he predicted, but in a completely different form.

He could see you and Lupin in front of him, mouths agape. He was about to say something when he found his vocal chords only allowed him a gruff whine. Shocked, he lifted his head, which felt much heavier than he'd last recalled, and as he looked down at himself he was taken aback to be met with a pair of hooves right beneath him. He staggered to his feet on wobbly legs, of which he now had four. As he tilted his head he could see the shadow of a pair of antlers twisting into brilliant shadows on the grass.

“Potter, you did it!” you exclaimed, “you actually did it!”

“Well how about that,” Remus chuckled, “a stag.”

“It fits him, I think,” you grinned, looking over at Sirius and Peter who looked determined and terrified respectively. “Well go on, it's your turn now!”

Sirius braced himself for the jump, but somehow he found no fear in his system. After seeing James shift in the air right before his eyes, he knew he could do it. He looked over at Peter who was nearly shaking.

“Come on, Peter,” he said, “we'll go together.”

“I-I don't know about this, Sirius,” Peter said, “I'm not ready, I don't think I can do this.”

“It's just a little jump,” Sirius said encouragingly, “you can do this.”

After a few nerve wracking deep breaths Peter gave him the smallest nod one could manage.

“We'll go on three,” Sirius said, “Ready? One—”

“AaHH!”

Sirius shoved Peter off the ledge, knowing he wouldn't jump on his own, before taking the plunge himself. Peter's screams became higher and higher pitched as he shrank at an alarming speed, almost an undetectable size by the time he hit the grass. A small brown rat scurried across the field towards you and Lupin.

The stag in front of you made a sound, dragging his hooves across the grass in what you could imagine as James' unadulterated laughter at his friend.

Sirius began to morph almost as soon as he left the ground, something you were surprised by. He landed on his hind legs, landing gracefully as his front two followed, and a shaggy black dog looked back at you with mischief in its eyes.

You couldn't help but go over and pet him. You laughed as he nudged you with his nose, a resistance that was quickly halted as soon as you started scratching him behind the ears.

“I have to say, I didn't think you would actually manage that on your first try,” you said, secretly prouder than they could have known, “but if anyone could have done it, it's you three stubborn goons.”

James huffed as he saw you continue to pet Sirius, using his antlers to prod the dog out of the way. Sirius barked, lunging at him playfully. It was quite a scene to see the two interact.

“Honestly, this is a pretty solid group,” you said, “you've got James who blends perfectly with the surrounding wildlife so he wouldn't be suspicions, Sirius who could probably do a fair bit of damage as a dog if he needed, and Peter who can fit through small spaces and snoop around the castle virtually undetected.”

“Quite an odd pack,” Remus chuckled.

“Definitely,” you agreed, “but a pack nonetheless.”

And that very week, Remus Lupin was able to spend his first night as a werewolf with his four friends by his side.

__________________________________________________________

“So, how did we choose which animals we turn into?” James had asked you the next day at breakfast, “I specifically tried for a dragon.”

“You don't get to choose,” you rolled your eyes, “You're a stag, that's the end of it. It's pretty much up to chance.”

“I'm sorry, you're telling me I could have turned into a fish and died right there on the ground?!”

“If only,” you sighed dreamily, earning you a playful shove from James. “Alright, it's not completely random, but you're definitely in the unknown the first time you turn,” you went on to explain, “and once you turn for the first time, that's it. That's your animal. A wizard takes on the animagus form of whatever animal most closely resembles their personality. So, a horny bastard for James, a loyal little puppy for Sirius—”

“A bitch for you,” Sirius quipped.

“Never heard that one before,” you scoffed, purposefully messing up his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” he shoved you off him, twisting each of his curls back into form.

“Well, look who's a high maintenance pup,” you chuckled.

Around the same time that year, you finally completed the map. It came together beautifully, each different way of folding the paper revealing a different level of the castle for easy navigation. You'd included the surrounding forests as well as the parts of Hogsmeade that applied for the secret passageways, all of which were marked with symbols and the unique names you'd all come up with. Every student and staff member at Hogwarts had a tiny scroll with their name that appeared in their location. Remus had added the nice detail of including footprints at the last second, so you could see which way they were facing and walking as well. It was fireproof, rip proof, and prone to insulting anyone else who tried to read it. It was the pinnacle of your magical (and slightly illegal) achievement.

“We should write our names on it,” James said, looking down proudly at the finished map, “it belongs to us, after all. We don't want anyone else taking the credit.”

“Yeah, fantastic way to get caught,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “what if Filch comes across it? That's like leaving your signature at a murder scene.”

“You should use code names, then,” you suggested, “I know you guys call Remus 'Moony' as a joke, but I kind of like it.”

The scarred boy blushed lightly at the compliment, a brow raised to his other three friends.

“Alright then, I guess you should all say hi to Rudolph over here,” Sirius said, jutting his thumb in James' direction. The bespectacled boy narrowed his eyes before shooting back.

“Right! And this is my good friend, Snuffles.”

Sirius lunged at him and James swatted him away in laughter.

“Come on, you two,” Remus said, “or we won't put anything down for you at all.”

“I've got an idea for Peter,” you piped in, “When my mom used to garden she said she didn't mind having rats there because their tails resembled worms, which were an old a sign of healthy soil, I know it's odd, but I think Wormtail sounds pretty cool.”

Peter seemed to perk up at your acknowledgment and nodded. It suited him somehow.

“Should we pick animal features too, then?” James mused, “I guess Antlers doesn't really sound that cool. What's another word? Horns? Give me some analogies, guys. What else do they look like?”

“Yours honestly kind of look like a couple of bent forks,” you snickered.

“Prongs?” Sirius snorted, the laughter that followed nearly splitting his sides.

“Oh, go on, what have you got then?” James scoffed.

“I was thinking Padfoot,” Sirius said, “like a dog's paw prints.”

“You know, for someone who was just making fun of code names a second ago you sure have given a lot of thought to yours,” you teased.

“Shove it,” he smirked, “What about you? Can't very well have a second Moony.”

You stared at him in momentary disbelief.

“Me?”

“Well, yeah,” Sirius chuckled.

“We couldn't have done any of this without you,” Remus reminded you with a smile.

“I think you've more than earned an honorary title as one of us,” James said.

“That is, if you want to,” Peter said timidly.

You looked at the four of them, genuinely touched.

“I. . . I don't know what to say,” you smiled.

“You could say 'yes',” James piped up.

“Alright, you loons,” you laughed, “if you leave Severus alone for good, then yes.”

“Hey, I think we've been pretty good about that lately,” James pouted.

“Yes you have,” you admitted, “It's the only reason I bothered to give you the time of day, but this time it's a promise.”

James rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face was undeniable. He'd never admit it out loud, but being friends with you was more fun than messing with Snape ever was.

“Alright, fine. (Y/n) (L/n), I solemnly swear that I will leave tormenting our dear old friend Snivelus behind us forever,” he said dramatically, putting a hand up at his pledge.

“Oh, bother,” you laughed, “the only thing you'll 'solemnly swear' to is that you're up to no good.”

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

“Then that's settled,” Remus smiled, “you'll need a code name too.”

“Let's see,” Sirius hummed in thought, “What other defining features do wolves have besides. . . well, their. . . fangs?”

“They're canines, you numbnut,” you huffed.

“Close enough, I'm writing Fangs.”

“Oi, I didn't agree to that!”

“Too bad, I'm already writing it~”

“Okay, well if that's the stupid name I'm getting saddled with them I'm going to write it myself,” you said stubbornly. You actually didn't mind the name at all.

“Well that's it, then,” James said, “Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs, and Fangs. We could join the bloody circus.”

“All we need is a group name,” you said, half joking.

“We've already got one,” James said proudly.

“Oh? Let's hear it, then.”

“The Marauders.”

“. . .”

You kept your face straight for exactly three seconds before you burst out laughing. The four boys flushed with embarrassment.

“The Marauders?” you chortled, “what are you, pirates?”

��It's what McGonnagall called us the first time we got ourselves into proper trouble,” James defended himself, his cheeks reddening, “You rowdy mob of marauders, she'd said.”

“Huh,” you chuckled, coming down from your laughing fit, “Well, then I suppose that would make this The Marauders Map. I'll admit, it actually kinda has a ring to it.”

And despite your group's joking quips and bickering, they couldn't agree more.

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

“Wait,” Harry said, eyes wide at your story, “So, my dad was an animagus too?”

“Sure was,” you smiled warmly.

“This whole time I thought 'Prongs' was just because his patronus was a stag.”

“Your animagus form is usually the same animal as your patronus,” you explained, “In some very rare cases they can be different, but they work in the same emotionally driven vein of magical ability, so it would make sense that they'd be linked. Your father was extraordinary at both, because as much as he would deny it, he felt everything very deeply.”

Your eyes drifted to the wall opposite you in the living room, and a small but sad smile graced your features.

“Love is often the most powerful emotion a witch or wizard can draw from,” you said softly, “but you already know that.”

Harry followed your gaze over his shoulder. There, posted on the wall among a collage of photographs from the Order was a picture of his mother and father. It was one he'd seen a hundred times, and one he had his own copy of: them in each others' arms in a London park, autumn leaves swirling around them as they danced without any music. Even from this distance he could see the emotion in their eyes as they looked at one another— like they were the only two people in the world.

“Yeah,” Harry said, wiping a stray tear from his eyes, “I do.”

Read chapter 7 here!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1

[kerie-prince]

clumsy

Hermione Granger x fem Slytherin!reader (fluff)

requested: (@chokemepansy) im terrible at requesting because i blank on ideas BUT anything for hermione please <3 take your time ily 💓

warnings: a single curse word, but mainly just soft hours

summary: Hermione has her very first date with you at Hogsmeade (song inspo from Fergie's Clumsy) (pardon my lame ass summary)

a/n: ty for requesting, luv 🥺 hope you like it! i made the reader slytherin just bc of you <3 and yes, i put in an outfit inspo but it's not like the cringy ones from wattpad

(gif not mine, cred to owner)

You came to love the smell of parchment and books. The sound of pages being turned, the feeling of a new book in your hands. You loved them because it made you think of Hermione.

Merlin, you were infatuated with everything about her. The excitement in her voice when she talked about her favorite books, the small paper cuts on her fingers from turning the pages – she didn't mind them as it was normal for her – and the look on her face when she received praise from professors.

She was all you thought about and you wanted to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower and yell out "I LOVE HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER" for the whole school to hear. And you were positive she felt the same. Hermione would refuse to let go of your hands when you walked together from class and on some occasions, you'd catch her staring at you during study sessions. Just like she was doing now.

"Miss Granger, for the last time, I am asking you what are the contents of polyjuice potion?" Snape was hovered over her desk. Hermione jumped in her seat and turned to face the brooding professor. Your Slytherin housemates who sat at the back of class laughed at her startled state as she named the contents. You looked back and glared at them all. When Snape left your table and continued his lecture, you leaned closer to Hermione and whispered as low as you could, “Are you okay? You seem kind of distracted,” you noticed.

“Y-yes, I'm fine,” Hermione stuttered. Snape excused the class and Hermione waited for you to be done packing your things just so she could hold your hand to the Great Hall. “Are we still going to Hogsmeade on Saturday?” you asked.

“Harry’s got detention with McGonagall for ‘ accidentally’ turning Crabbe into a water goblet in class,” Hermione used her free hand to make air quotations, “and Ron’s busy with Lavender that day.” She had a sad look on her face, thinking that they wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade after all. You picked up on it and had an idea. “So, just the two of us then?”

Hermione’s chest became warm, “Okay. It's a date.” Your eyes slightly bulged out and to Hermione, you had an indistinguishable smile, “I mean, not like a date date, but a girls date.” You weren't sure if she meant it like that, but you laughed at her stumbling her words. The always composed girl becoming a cute, blubbering mess for you. Not that you knew for sure it was because for you but you’d given it a lot of thought.

She never held Harry’s hand like she did yours unless he was upset about something and she was comforting him. And she certainly never held Ron’s hand. Nor does she ever hug him knowing Lavender would go ballistic. Not that she’d ever want to. He was her best friend, yeah but she had never gotten used to it. They both had an unspoken thing to not hug.

“Sounds fun,” you chirped, “can’t wait for it.” You gave her a lingering hug before going to your table. You sat in between your best friends Pansy and Daphne. Pansy had a smirk on her lips once you were in her line of sight, “Did you finally tell Granger?” You knew what she was talking about and nudged her arm with your elbow, “Shut it.” The two girls chuckled and gave each other knowing looks. “I might tell her on Saturday,” you disclosed.

They had matching shocked faces; for nearly a year, they’ve watched you pace around their shared dorm debate with yourself whether or not to tell her about how you feel. You’d have a sparkle in your eyes every time you talked about her and nearly spent every day with her. They weren't upset about it. In fact, they couldn't wait to see you two together. But you were unexpectedly insecure by thinking of the worst case scenario in which she’d reject you.

“That’s great, Y/N/N. I’m so happy for you. I know everything will turn out well,” Daphne supported. Pansy nodded and pointed to Daphne as to say ‘Me too’. You grabbed the hands of both girls and held them tightly, “Thanks, girls. I love you guys.” You wrapped an arm around both of them and brought them in for a hug. Daphne returned it while Pansy made a fake coughing sound. “I can’t b-breathe,” she exaggerates. You held on for a couple seconds more before letting go and started eating. “Okay, so how is this happening?” Pansy asked.

“We’re going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday,” you inquired. “So the whole lot is going as well?” Pansy was talking about Harry and Ron of course.

“No, just the two of us alone,” you replied, taking a bite of the chicken on your plate.

“You mean, this is a date?” Daphne exclaimed. “We’re going to help pick an outfit, no questions asked.” She had a stern look that dared you to talk back. As sweet as Daphne is, once her mind is set to something, she doesn't budge. You accepted it and was met with her usual warm smile. Inside, you were ecstatic and couldn't wait for Saturday. Your crush has gone on for too long, and you were tired of waiting.

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

Your dorm mates got you up at the crack of dawn. And by crack of dawn, it was actually 10 am at most. They made you change into every outfit they picked out which totaled in 8. You appreciated everything they were doing, but some of the outfits were too much for a day in Hogsmeade. Daphne picked out tennis skirts with cropped argyle sweaters. Pansy picked short dresses that stopped at your mid-thigh and black wool turtlenecks to go over them. They had completely different aesthetics which is what probably made them perfect friends.

You settled on something casual; a thick striped long sleeve polo with light blue jeans and white trainers. It was going to be a nice spring day and you didn't want to wear something that would be too short and you get cold later. Daphne did your hair in two French plaits and Pansy did your makeup modestly. Once you were done, it was noon and you rushed to meet Hermione for your ‘girl date’.

She took the air straight from your lungs. She looked more breathtaking than the night of the Yule Ball. You distinctly remember being incredibly jealous of Viktor Krum and beat yourself up for not asking her before he did. But now, if he was here, you were sure that the famous Quidditch athlete would be jealous of you.

Hermione’s usually wild hair was tamed into smooth wavy curls that framed her delicate face. She wore a floral print button up that was definitely new as you’ve never seen it before. Or did she save it just for you? Her navy jeans hugged her ankles and she donned light pink flats. And probably for the first time since the Yule Ball, she had mascara and lipgloss on. Casual, but perfect.

Your face was flushed, and you weren't sure if she was also blushing or if maybe she was just wearing blush. “Shall we?” You reached out to grab her hands – her soft hands – and waited for her response. She didn't say anything when she laced her fingers with yours and started walking on the path to Hogsmeade. Hermione was about to say that you looked pretty when she tripped over a small rock on the pathway. “Are you okay?” you expressed concern. She was still holding onto your hand as she steadied herself up, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆

You snorted and had to hold the butterbeer in your mouth, “Ron did what?” Hermione laughed as she told you how Lavender exploded on Ron for forgetting their anniversary and when he tried to make it up by giving her chocolates that he got from his older brothers, Lavender instantly grew a huge chin that drooped over her neck. Ron had gotten so mad at them and in unison, they told him ‘Why’d you think we’d ever give you real ones?’

“So that’s why no one has seen her for a couple days!” you noted. She was nodding as she laughed. You could only imagine what it was like to see it in person. Poor Lav. You went back and forth talking about whatever went on since the last time you were together.

Hermione went on talking about a new book she read about over the winter holiday. The way she expressed her emotions and passion for it made you fall for the Gryffindor girl more. When you hadn't said anything, she stopped and lowered her head, “I’m boring you, aren't I?”

You sat straight in your chair and fumbled your words before reaching out to grab her hand from across the table, “No, no, no, of course not. I could never be bored of you, I love you.” Your eyes widened. You didn't exactly expect to let it slip out like that, but you studied her reaction to see if you could leave it at that or otherwise. She sat still with a poker face. “Y-you’re my best friend, Mione–”

“I love you, too,” she confessed. “Huh?” Please, please, please tell me I heard her right. You didn't get to fully process what she said because after a few seconds, she gathered all her courage and reached over the table to give you a quick peck on your lips. It would've been a sweet moment hadn't she accidentally knocked her glass over in the process. Everyone in the Three Broomsticks had their eyes on you, Hermione’s face beet red and lowered out of embarrassment. You tried cleaning the mess and out of nowhere, Hermione ran out. Fuck this you thought as you ran after her.

“Mione, wait!” She hadn't gone far and luckily for you, she listened. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes averted from yours. “Where are you going? Aren’t we on a date?” Confidence had finally kicked in when you asked her. Hermione’s breath hitched. She couldn't see anything in your face that showed you were joking. Because you weren't. “Yes,” she grabbed your hands and started walking towards the other shops in the small village. Until once again, she nearly fell back when she nearly slipped over another rock on the ground. You supported her back up and giggled, “You’re so clumsy.”

—

requests open!

[engie-ivy]

Everyone seems to think it's just the most hilarious prank Sirius was given a potion to make him think he's in love with Remus. Remus himself, however, doesn't quite like hearing Sirius say everything he's been secretly dreaming of, and not meaning a word of it. However, there might be a bit of truth to Sirius’ words. Or a whole lot of truth.

Truth Be Told

Remus is haggard. After a long day of classes, he has spent the evening tutoring a second-year Hufflepuf, and it would surprise Remus if the boy can even tell the front from the back of his wand. All Remus wants now is to drop down on a couch, and unwind with his friends. As he enters the Gryffindor common room, he spots them sitting at the back and makes his way over.

“Wotcher, Moony,” James greets. “You look bloody knackered!”

“Alright, Moony?” Peter grins. “Long night?”

“Moony!” Sirius says. “I’m so glad you’re back. Even when it’s just an hour, I miss you whenever we’re not together. You light up any room you enter, no matter how tired you look. Just the sight of you makes my heart skip a beat, as you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

The boys all fall silent and stare. Remus blinks a couple of times. Then James bursts out laughing, quickly joined by Peter. Horror appears on Sirius’ face and he clasps a hand over his mouth.

“Eh,” Remus says hesitantly, as he sits down. “What’s going on?”

James, still laughing, wipes a tear away from his eyes. “D’you remember how Sirius hexed McKinnon last week, making everything she ate taste like earwax for the entire day?”

Remus nods. As funny as the prank may have seemed, dealing with an angry and hungry Marlene McKinnon hadn’t been an experience worth repeating.

“Well, she got back at him just now by spiking his Pumpkin Juice with some sort of potion, but so far, we hadn’t figured out what kind of potion. Until now, that is!”

“A Love Potion?” Remus asks incredulously.

Sirius, face bright red, is pointedly not looking at Remus.

“The potion must have made him so head-over-heels, he’s too overwhelmed by your all-encompassing beauty,” Peter snickers.

Remus is still stunned. “Why a Love Potion to make him fall in love with me, though?”

James shrugs. “Girls have a weird sense of humour, mate.”

Remus shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous!”

James wants to say something, but Sirius cuts him off. “There’s nothing ridiculous about being in love with you!” He exclaims. “You’re the kindest person there is. You have such a good heart, and you’re always there for me, no matter what. You always make everyone feel at ease. You’re clever, hardworking, and strong. I don’t understand how everyone isn’t in love with you! And Merlin, you’re so attractive. The way you bite your lip when you’re trying not to laugh is so bloody sexy.”

Sirius isn’t the only one blushing now, as Remus feels his own cheeks heat up. “Err, thanks,” he mumbles.

James and Peter, however, nearly fall off the couch laughing. “This is gold!” James manages to say in between his laughs.

Remus doesn’t agree. He finds it more embarrassing than funny that apparently, McKinnon thought making him in love with Remus was the best joke she could play on Sirius. And even worse, and Remus will take this secret to his grave, like a bloody twelve-year-old who reads too many romance novels, he occasionally fantasizes about Sirius illuminated by candlelight, holding his hands, waxing poetically about his undying love for Remus. To now hear Sirius say similar words, without meaning any of them, is definitely more painful than funny.

Sirus doesn’t seem amused by it either. “I’m sorry,” he says miserably. “I know I shouldn’t be saying this! I mean, I know I don’t have a chance with you, Moony. You’re such a good person, so much better than me. I truly don’t deserve you.”

“Merlin,” Peter laughs. “Sirius Black thinking he’s not good enough? I wouldn’t have thought it possible! What the hell did McKinnon give him for a Love Potion?”

Remus wonders that as well, as he watches Sirius hide his face in his hands. With the Love Potions Remus knows, the person under the influence at least doesn’t realise how insane they’re acting, but poor Sirius seems perfectly aware.

“Moony,” Sirius says pleadingly. “Normally, I think every minute spent apart from you is a minute wasted, but as I can’t seem to stop embarrassing myself in front of you, would you mind terribly to maybe stay away from me until the potion has worn off?”

“You really do say the most ridiculous things,” Peter agrees.

Sirius glares at him. “You calling me confessing my deepest feelings ridiculous is actually really hurtful, Peter.”

Peter blinks at him.

“Right,” Remus says, getting to his feet. “Yes. That would probably be best. Just... take care, and let me know if you need me.”

“I always need you, Remus,” Sirius says. “And I always will.”

“Err, right. Yes. Okay. Great. Eh, bye then.” Remus hurries away.

As Remus makes his way through the common room, he walks past Marlene, Lily and Mary sitting together at a table.

“Oi, Lupin!” Marlene calls, with a smug smile. “Is Black having a nice evening?”

Remus folds his arms over his chest. “You think you’re bloody funny, don’t you, McKinnon?”

Lily raises her eyebrow. “Come on, Remus. Black had it coming.”

“I suppose he had,” Remus sighs. It’s true. Marlene and Sirius are always pulling pranks on each other and retaliating. “But next time, please leave me out of it!”

“Leave you out of it?” Marlene repeats. “When have I ever gotten you into it?”

“Please, a Love Potion to make him confess to being in love with me?” Remus rolls his eyes. “I can understand how you’d think Sirius Black fancying me is just the biggest joke, but please, don’t.”

The girls fall silent.

Mary is staring at Remus with wide eyes. Lily is nervously tugging at her braid. Marlene is shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“What?”

Marlene and Lily exchange a look, then look back at Remus. “Eh, Remus,” Marlene says carefully. “The potion I gave Black wasn’t a Love Potion.”

Remus begins to ask “Then why-” But Marlene continues talking. “It was Veritaserum.”

Sirius is lying face-down on his bed, wondering if there’s a spell that can make the ground swallow him up whole. Damn Marlene and her damn Truth Potion! At least his friends, and most importantly Remus, had assumed it was a Love Potion. Luckily, James and Peter had eventually left him alone, thinking that the fun was over anyway after Remus left, so perhaps the universe doesn’t completely hate him.

He has barely finished the thought, or the door to the dorm opens. Sirius glances up, and when he sees Remus walk in, he considers smothering himself in his pillow.

“Moony,” Sirius groans. “Please. I really want to be alone.” For once, he and the Truth Potion are in perfect agreement on what to say.

Remus ignores him and sits down cross-legged at the foot of Sirius’ bed with a huge grin on his face, because, yes, the universe has it out for Sirius. Sirius pushes himself up and wraps his arms around his legs. “While normally I would be thrilled to have you on my bed,” Sirius says, because of-bloody-course he does. “Right now, you shouldn’t-”

“What potion did McKinnon give you?” Remus interrupts.

Sirius opens his mouth to say it’s the Love Potion, but what comes out instead is “Veritaserum,” which, really, he should’ve expected. He wonders if it’s too late to still smother himself in his pillow.

Remus grins brightly at him. He knew, Sirius thinks. The bloody bastard already knew.

“You know,” Sirius says irritably. “I’m so gone for you that you could probably push me out of the window, and I’d still be smitten,” has he mentioned that the universe hates him? “But I must say, Remus, it kind of hurts that you found out my deepest secret and came here to rub it in my face and laugh about it.”

Remus seems a little taken aback by Sirius’ blatant honesty, but he should’ve known that’s what he would get. “What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not laughing about your feelings! Or well, maybe I am laughing about your feelings, but because I’m happy about your feelings!”

Sirius looks away and mutters “Well, I’m glad you at least enjoy my desperate pining.”

Remus moves forward, and places a hand on Sirius’ cheek to gently turn his head back to him.

“You on my bed, sitting this close, and touching my face like that is Doing Things to me,” Sirius says, and he kind of wishes Remus had pushed him out of the window.

Remus lets out a breathless laugh. “Good, because what I wanted to say is, I’m happy about your feelings, because I most definitely return them. I’m gone for you too.”

Sirius’ eyes widen. “Really?” He breathes.

Remus smiles softly at him. “Really. I’m not taking any Veritaserum, though, so you’re going to have to take my word for it.”

Emboldened by the notion that he can’t possibly embarrass himself more than he already has, Sirius shifts a little closer understand. “You know,” he says, nervously licking his lips. “They say actions speak louder than words.”

Remus immediately understands. The hand on Sirius’ cheek moves to his neck and the next moment, they’re kissing.

Sirius briefly chases Remus’ lips as the other boy pulls away, and sighs while he blinks open his eyes. Kissing Remus is the best feeling in the world, leaving him dizzy, and rather hot and bothered. And of course, in his current state, he immediately informs Remus about this.

A flush appears on Remus’ cheeks and he chuckles. Sirius hides his face in his hands and groans. “And just like that, I turned the best moment of my life into the most embarrassing moment of my life.”

Remus grabs his wrists to pry his hands away from his face. “No, Pads, it’s okay! More than okay. I love kissing you as well.”

Sirius lowers his hands and looks into Remus’ soft, honey-coloured eyes, that look back at him affectionately. “I love you,” he breathes.

Remus lets go of his wrists and his eyes widen in shock.

Sirius winches. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wouldn’t normally go from first kiss to full-blown love confession in like zero seconds, but that damned potion! That potion goes by the rule ‘if you feel a strong emotion, immediately speak it out loud’, and loving you is the strongest emotion I’ve ever felt.”

Remus’ eyes widen even more.

“Oh, Merlin,” Sirius says. “I’m only making it worse, aren’t I? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to freak you out like this.”

“No, it’s... I mean, I...” Remus scrapes his throat. “I don’t mind. I admit, it’s all going a bit fast, and I wasn’t expecting a love confession so soon, but I think I’m... happy?” Remus lets out a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry, this is all very new to me.”

“It’s new to me too,” Sirius says softly, and then, just in case he hadn’t freaked Remus out enough, “You’re the first person I’ve ever said those words to.”

Remus nearly topples off the bed.

The universe must be having one hell of a laugh.

“Oh, bollocks!” Sirius says. “I keep saying these wildly inappropriate, way too intense things, for which it’s much too soon! I won’t blame you if you want to get away as fast as possible. As a matter of fact, you probably should stay away from me for now, before I end up telling you I’ve already been envisioning our wedding.” Sirius’ laugh sounds forced, and Remus’ sounds a little too high-pitched, and Sirius can see clear traces of panic in his eyes. Yet, Remus doesn’t move from the bed.

“You know,” Remus says a tad nervous. “Perhaps I could stay, but prevent you from speaking?”

“How are you...?”

Remus smiles shyly. “My idea was to keep your mouth... otherwise occupied?”

Sirius’ eyes widen, and then a bright smile appears on his face. “Remus Lupin, you always have the best ideas!”

Remus wakes up the next morning with Sirius’ body pressed against his back and Sirius’ arms around his waist. “Hmmm,” he hums happily, covering Sirius’ hands with his own. “I love waking up next to you.”

He can feel Sirius smile against his neck. “Me too. Waking up next to you and falling asleep next to you. Even your snoring is music to my ears.”

Remus snorts. “I gather the Veritaserum has worn off, huh?”

[malfoysstilinski]

girl in the mirror | DRACO MALFOY

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k 

SUMMARY: in which draco and y/n are soulmates and can hear each others’ music, and you’ve been blasting sad songs all week, worrying draco. 

WARNINGS: one mean joke about americans sozzles 

A/N: based on the tiktoks where soulmates can hear each others’ music. i dont think ive seen an imagine like that on here so i thought i’d write one :)) also set in 2010s 

In the Wizarding world, on your thirteenth birthday, you are officially bound to your soulmate. This means different things for different wizards and witches, depending on what they valued. For example, when Blaise Zabini turned thirteen, he was able to see his soulmate in mirrors-- fitting considering how self-obsessed he was. 

Draco, however, heard music. You must be obsessed with it, he realised. He found out he was right pretty quickly, waking up to the sound of your playlists muffled in his ears and falling asleep to them too. 

It was always Muggle music too. You must be a half-blood, or even… Merlin forbid, a Muggle-born. Realising that his soulmate wasn’t going to be a pure-blood like his parents had planned, Draco kept the news to himself and worked on his vocabulary. He tried his best to bite his tongue around Granger, ignoring his friends when they made fun of their ‘dirty’ blood.

He didn’t want to hurt you when he got to meet you. 

It took Draco longer than it should have to realise you definitely didn’t go to Hogwarts. How could you when he’d be sat in assemblies, the room so silent you could hear a pin drop, and all he’d hear is the thumping of your music in his ears as if he was underwater?

“She’s probably an American,” Pansy pretends to gag, the others laughing with her. 

“Could be a Beauxbaton,” Blaise suggests. 

Draco doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he thinks you are definitely a Muggle. It’s rare, but not unheard of in the Wizarding world, especially nowadays. For the Malfoys, though, it would be an outrage. 

You play your music the most when he’s eating dinner in the Great Hall or when he’s getting ready for bed. 

At first, he hated it. He hated your music, he hated how his head was rarely ever quiet, and he hated that he didn’t know who you were in order to beg you to take your headphones out for once. 

However, Draco learnt to love your music. Songs and bands he’d never heard of before quickly became his favourites and eventually, he found himself humming your Muggle tunes in the common room or quietly singing along in his dorm when the other boys were out doing whatever. 

He learned to love having your music in his head, especially as the years rolled on and his life became harder and harder. It made him feel like he was never alone, your muffled melodies making a home in his head and pushing out all of his anxiety and depression. 

Draco wanted to dance with you to them. He liked to lay in bed at night and listen to your songs and imagine that you’re lying next to him. He bets you have a nice singing voice. Maybe you can even play an instrument or two. Maybe you could teach him how to play the guitar, and maybe he could show you how to play his favourite pieces on the piano. 

Your music is never too upbeat, but today Draco feels like he hasn’t heard a single song that wasn’t about being sad. As he trudged from class to class, Draco couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong with you. It had been going on for the past few days, and the music stopped altogether on one of the days. 

He went to bed with an empty head for the first time in a few years, staring at his ceiling. He plugged his iPod in and went to the Muggle section, playing a few of your favourite songs. It wasn’t the same. 

“What’s up with you?” Blaise demands as Draco doesn’t touch his meal for the second time that day. 

Draco glances to his friend and looks away, shaking his head. “Mind your own business, Zabini,” he mutters weakly. 

Blaise’s soulmate, a Slytherin in the year below, joins them at sitting on the table and Blaise immediately forgets all about Draco, the two of them giggling as they hug each other. Draco thought he could throw up right there and then, shaking his head in disgust. 

Green was Draco’s colour and Merlin was he jealous. 

Why did you have to be a stupid Muggle?

Draco immediately feels bad for even thinking it. He wants to hug you and kiss the top of your head and mutter apology after apology. The soft feeling makes him feel weak. You did things to him that nobody else did, and he doesn’t even know who you were. The fact that you were most likely going through a rough time right now made it ten times worse. 

“What’s wrong with Draco?” He hears Zabini’s girl whisper. 

“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Draco snaps, lip curling in disgust. “Instead of talking behind my back like a coward!”

“Draco,” Blaise growls. “I don’t know what’s up with you, mate, but you need to calm down.”

“It’s your soulmate, isn’t it?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow from opposite them. “Are they playing that rubbish song you hate on repeat again?”

“No,” Draco hisses in defence of you. “I like that song, thank you.”

Pansy holds her hands up. “Okay, whatever. Sorry, Malfoy. What has got your knickers in a twist, then?”

He hesitates. He doesn’t like talking about you to anybody else but he’s really worried and he thinks maybe one of them might be able to help. 

“She’s…” Draco’s eyes drift to burn holes in the table in front of him. “She’s been listening to sad songs.”

Goyle snorts, making Draco’s head snap to him in fury. 

“Sorry, Malfoy, sorry… But that does sound ridiculous, mate,” Goyle admits. “She’s probably just into that… genre?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Draco huffs and shakes his head. “You don’t know her like I do. Something’s wrong with her, I can tell.”

“Well, why don’t you visit her?” Blaise asks, grabbing a grape and popping into his mouth. 

“What?” Draco spits. “Is that a joke, Zabini? I don’t find it funny--”

“I’m not joking,” Blaise frowns. “Merlin’s sake, Malfoy. Do you not pay attention in Charms?”

“Of course I do,” Draco hesitates, lying. “But what are you talking about, anyway?”

…

Draco feels ridiculous as he stands in front of the mirror in the bathrooms later that night. It’s silent since it’s the middle of the night, but Draco knows you’re awake because of the glum music playing faintly in his ears. 

He wants to visit you like Blaise told him to do, and as he stands in front of the mirror and casts his incantations, he can’t help but wonder if this is a setup. He doesn’t give his hopes up, doesn’t hold his breath that when he opens his eyes you’ll be on the other side of the mirror. 

But he wants you to be. He wants you to be there so badly. 

Draco does sort of believe it so he put on his black turtleneck and black suit and combed his hair like usual, replacing the uniform and robes he’d been wearing all day. He doesn’t want you to see him and be disappointed. 

He knows he won’t be disappointed no matter what you look like or what you are. 

Draco takes a deep breath as he lowers his wand and closes his eyes. When he counts down and opens his eyes, he’s stunned into silence by the sight in front of him. His heart skips a beat and he nearly chokes on his own spit. 

Staring back at him in the mirror is not his own pale reflection but what looks like a bedroom. The mirror glows orange from the lighting and he can see that it’s decorated with posters and records and other Muggle things. Draco doesn’t even process that you’re a confirmed Muggle at this point, he doesn’t care enough about that. 

On a single bed in the middle of the room, sat up in the very centre with headphones in and a laptop in front of her, is a girl his age. She’s got beautiful y/s/c skin and y/c/h locks that have been thrown up into a messy bun, her y/c/e trained on the screen in front of her as she watches what he assumes is a film or a tv show. 

She’s wearing a school uniform, not quite as posh as Hogwarts’, and it’s slightly crumpled from sitting in her bed with it on. Her polished black shoes are nowhere to be seen, rips in the bottom of her tights no doubt from wearing them thin five days a week. 

Draco can’t believe he’s looking at you right now. He reaches his hand out, eyes widening when his fingers seem to slip past the glass and he’s sucked into another world-- your world. He wasn’t expecting it to happen, a small yelp leaving his lips as he tumbles straight out of the mirror hanging on your wall and onto your carpet. 

You both scream as you make eye contact and you’ve thrown your laptop about in a panic. There’s no music in his ears now that he stands in front of you. Draco breathes heavily, unsure what to say. 

“Um, hello?” He offers. 

“What the hell?” You yell. “What are you doing in my bedroom? Who are you? My laptop!”

You ignore him as you dive off of the bed and pick it up. The screen is smashed making you glare at him harder. 

“I’m sorry!” Draco practically squeaks. “I- I have Galleons--”

“Who are you?” You cut him off roughly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Draco keeps repeating, hoping you will calm down. “I-I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” You repeat with a mocking laugh. “Is that a joke?”

“No,” he replies, voice pitched higher than usual with offence. “What’s your name?”

Normally you wouldn’t tell a stranger your name, but this situation is anything but normal. You stare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering why he feels familiar. There’s something about him that has you relaxing under his gaze, which is weird because he literally just appeared out of nowhere. 

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you reply sceptically. 

Draco smiles, “beautiful name.”

“Are you like a nonce or something?”

“Nonce?” Draco crinkles his nose in confusion. 

You narrow your brows at him. “You’re literally British-- how do you not know what that means?”

“I’m not… I don’t really come from your kind of England,” Draco doesn’t know how to explain there is an entire world she’s been hidden from-- this is the first Muggle he’s ever had a conversation with. 

“Are you Welsh?” 

“Do I sound Welsh to you?” Draco cocks his head to the side, already amused. 

“Sometimes I can’t tell the difference, not gonna lie,” you reply. “But no. I’m sure you’re English. You sound like you’re a private school kid or something.”

“I guess I am,” Draco replies quietly, looking around your bedroom and taking in all of the colours that it has. 

You seem to snap out of whatever daze you were in. “Hey! You distracted me. Now tell me what the hell you’re doing in my bedroom before I call the police.”

Draco’s tongue darts out to wet his lips as he contemplates his next words. He hesitates and sits down on your bed next to you. You can smell his cologne-- it smells much more expensive than the Lynx sprays the boys at college seem to be obsessed with. 

“Do you ever hear music in your ears?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in conformation. “You do. That’s… that’s me. My music. I hear your music too. You listen to it all the time. Um… normally a lot of bands and stuff.”

There’s a long silence. “Do you have me on Spotify?”

“What’s Spotify?” Draco’s nose crinkles. 

“You probably just see what I listen to on Spotify!” You claim, standing up as you become weary of the boy on your bed. 

Draco still doesn’t quite understand your Muggle terminology, but he gets the gist of what you’re trying to imply. 

“That doesn’t explain the music you hear in your head from me,” Draco tries. “Or how I just came out of your mirror.”

You look overwhelmed. “What are you?” You whisper. 

“We, Y/N, are soulmates.”

...

yuh

PART TWO HERE

[siriusmydeer]

hello love, i was wondering if you could do a james potter x slythering fem!reader? one where she is working so hard on getting her life together. she is trying to be different than her family and working so hard but it is getting to her. she feels like she is failing and every turn she takes is a dead end. she feels like there is no purpose to what she’s doing. i think some super fluff is required, like james boosting her up and loving her. plzzzzz & thx

his slytherin

james potter x slytherin!fem!reader

summary: when you overwork yourself james is there to save the day.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: mentions of insomnia, mentions of sleep deprivation, mentions of not eating, mentions of over working yourself, angst, sad!james, house stereotypes, bad grades, implications of smut, WOLFSTAR😍, mentions of food, a breakdown, THERES FLUFF I PROMISE

seventh year was quite literally, a mess. maybe not for others, finally done school or they were super excited to travel around the world seeing things they’ve never seen before. you’re dream had consisted of constant studying, and working that barely made any time for yourself.

for the prior three years you had studied and practiced with madam pomfrey in the healers wing to eventually become a healer yourself, and it took a lot more than you thought it anticipated.

you knew as a healer, later in life you would have to deal with artefact accidents, dementor attacks, creature-induced injuries, magical bugs, potion and plant poisoning, dragon trainers with injuries, and incredulous spell damage.

with that you had to be prepared, which meant more time hitting the books and less time spending your final year at hogwarts with your best friends and your staggering boyfriend.

(hahah u see what i did there?)

james had qued in on your restless nights by gazing across at you in the great hall. the colour of emerald green becoming frequent in his life now; surprisingly to everyone else. where you were sat at the slytherin table, your eyebags already deepening by the day and your nose buried in some sort of school book.

the thought of even being like your family, made you nauseous. you didn’t want to be like your strict, immoral family, the death eaters, the murderers, and the ministry officials. who worked like machines without feelings or care.

as a slytherin born into a pureblood family those were the expectations that were almost nailed into your back like a sign said, ‘here’s the pureblood slytherin, shame her even though you don’t know her!!’

of course those were the stereotypes, ones that had been built on for centuries since salazar slytherin himself. that you of all people had to inherit. so you had to fall, and rebuild yourself entirely for even a chance. the restless nights, insomnia, caffeine and studying was your way of rebuilding.

of course that had an effect on your grades, not sleeping, not eating and barely focusing made your grades tremble a great deal to the point where professor slughorn got concerned by his best potions makers, recent poors in his class.

you were too focused on being better that you couldn’t even focus on your own well-being, that you couldn’t even see you were hurting yourself on the people around you. almost self isolating yourself from everyone entirely.

“darling?” james whispered, his body sitting across from yours at one of the mahogany tables in the library. pince set him a warning glare not to cause any mischief as she turned around.

“hmm?” you mumbled, barely acknowledging his prescence and continuing to read your defence against the dark arts textbook, something about the ‘chameleon ghoul.’

he had barely seen you all week, and when he did he saw your agonized face scrunched up in a book and your mauve dark circles that rested below your eyes clear as day.

“why don’t you take a break, dear? have a rest, you’ve been working non-stop. ve’barely seen you.” he murmured the last bit, embarrassed for feeling ‘needy.’

“can’t jamie, newts are soon i need to be prepared.” you looked up in his direction for a moment, barely catching his saddened eyes through his spectacles at your denial of his request to finally see his girlfriend.

if this were two maybe three years ago, james would not be caught dead having a conversation with a slytherin, let alone a relationship with one. the stereotypes blinding his vision for along time before he could see what was truly in-front of him.

i mean the gryffindor pride genetically ran through his veins as he was born into the etiquette pureblood-gryffindor family himself. it was almost destined for the both of you to be corporeal enemies.

but... something about your altruistic and considerate attributes subtly changed his mind. thanking merlin, and horhace slughorn for pairing the both of you in potions in fourth year. there was always something about the way you were so gentle and benevolent with him in potions class might’ve flipped a switch in his mind.

“right then... see you later?” he muttered disappointed in himself, you work so hard to prove yourself meanwhile he didn’t even have a glare in his way because he was the perfect headboy gryffindor student; with absolutely no judgements thrown his way despite his actions towards others in previous years.

“dunno, i’m studying.” you replied, your voice monotone and dull almost raspy from barely using your voice unless answering questions in class to almost being a know-it-all and pushing yourself to the tops of all your classes.

he got up from his chair, it scraping against the floor as he walked to the exit almost like a dog with its tail between his legs. he just got so mopey by your dejected less merry self. he had to do something, he had to make you understand that being a slytherin wasn’t just you.

it was a part of you sure, but ambitious just meant you strived for your goals and you were cunning which showed your amplified skill.

that didn’t mean you were— evil? being a proud reckless gryffindor was one in his heart but nobody ever thought he was malicious.

so, james fleamont potter did the only logical thing he could think of; going to his bestfriends for help. of course at first they were not over the moon glowing in delight when they found out he was dating a slytherin, especially sirius.

but that was expected, his family being his only views on how a pureblood slytherin acted only projected onto you. giving you almost a conscientious reason to work, the thought of someone james felt was his brother perceiving you as despicable only made you pursue your self judgements.

but after your book swaps with remus, you and peters athrimancy study sessions and music bonding with sirius they grew quite fond of your personality and thought that you were due with a chance with the marauders.

“moony, i need help.” he spoke desperately as remus’ face was also buried in a book, except out of his own free will.

“james needs my help? hear that sirius? prongs needs my help.” he declared proudly as the brown-haired gryffindor groaned crossing his arms.

“it’s y/n.” he mentioned, glancing in sirius’ direction before sitting on the vermillion love seat across from the fawn haired boy.

“what about her?” remus was more-so confused, what would be so wrong with you that james had to ask him for help?

“she’s suffocating herself, the books, the studying, not sleeping, not eating, nothing. i dunno what to do anymore remus, she’s so pent up on wanting people to stop looking at her like she’s heinous she’s working herself to death!” he ranted, all his anger and agitation spilling out in one fast-paced sentence that james needed to catch his breath by the end of.

“i just dunno how to make her catch a breath, take a break. what do i do?” james panted, looking at his mates for an answer.

“imperious curse?” sirius proposed, a bad proposal but his intentions were... thoughtful. “yeah let me go use an unforgivable curse on my girlfriend so she can have a study break. no thank you, next.” james sarcastically humoured him, james didn’t want to compromise your education or use an unforgivable curse on you for that matter but you looked so incredibly burnt out he didn’t know how to help you.

“body-bind curse? so she’s like.... forced to stop?” peter suggested, looking up from his transfiguration essay catching onto the conversation as he twirled his quill between his fingers.

“or, y’know something actually logical you could do is take her books. get her lavender tea or something, let her talk.” remus finally spoke, shrugging then looking at the ‘lord of the flies’ book in his hands a smirk lying on his face knowing that would he james lucky choice.

“moony, you genius! i could kiss you!” james hopped up from his seat, on his way back to the library.

“oi! i’m the only one he’s going to be kissing, prongs!” sirius yelped as james walked out of the portrait hole with a distant chortle.

on his way to the library, where you were previously seated, james made a stop to the kitchen to grab a few of your favourite snacks and some water. he dropped them back at his dormitory, but not without a mini lecture on ‘kissing moony.’ from sirius.

what a drama queen.

the castle was slowly darkening, the only light pivoting from the floating candles in the air. he saw your frozen-like figure in the same spot you were except looking over your history of magic textbook, learning about the ‘emeric the evil.’

“y/n.” he stated firmly, you almost jumped from your seat in surprise, due to your recent sleep deprivation. “merlin james, give a girl a little warning first.” you chastised before returning to your next book that was slammed together right in-front of your eyes.

“james! i was—“ you were cut off quickly by him gathering all of your books and placing them in his left arm. “what are you doing?” you questioned, looking at him with furrowed brows, to exhausted to argue with him.

“you’re not taking care of yourself, you’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, your basically a study.... that muggle thing- robot! you’re a study robot! so i’m taking care of you.” he got sidetracked as he spoke in a gentle yet firm tone.

“but i have too-“ you were cut off again by his pointer finger shushing your lips together. “no, either you sit here in silence because i’m taking your books either way or you come with me to my dorm.” james spoke, resisting to your complaints.

“fine, but you have too—“ you started off, annoyed that your study time was ruined by james incessant comments about you ‘overworking yourself.’ he though, was not having any of that. “nope.” he grabbed your hand, dragging you off to the gryffindor tower.

you gave a small tired wave to sirius, peter and remus on the way to the dormitories as they were all either on the floor or splayed across the scarlet-coloured couches. sirius following with a teasing wolf whistle and wink seeing the both of you walking up the stairs.

“don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!” he chuckled, looping his arm over remus’ shoulders.

“ha, bloody, ha, padfoot. so, so funny i’m on the floor laughing.” he teased, sarcasm lacing his words in a monotone voice almost mocking snape.

you playfully rolled your eyes before being dragged up the stairs to the boys dormitory. the only noises heard were the clacks of your shoes and the soft breathing emitting from both you and your boyfriend.

your eyes were met with candies sprawled all over his poorly made bed, one of his quidditch sweatshirts paired with your favourite joggers; the ones he probably stole from your dorm room one night; because he was keen on you just staying there with him and ‘subtly’ moving all your things into his dormitory with the rest of the boys.

you looked at him with an arched brow, a silent question of ‘why are you doing this?’ ignoring your questioning look he sprawled himself on his twin-bed, his hands clasping in his lap waiting for you to change.

you put on the clothes he layed out, feeling james’ left hand tug you onto his chest when you were done. oh his soft, pillowy chest, you almost felt tempted to fall asleep right then and there.

“darling girl, tell me what’s going on?” he softly questioned while stroking your hair with one hand, his other arm stroking your back.

“i just—“ you stuttered, feeling a wave of tears glossing over your eyes. “i feel like everything is going so, so, wrong. m’so afraid of failing, i want to be better! i don’t want to be like m’terrible family, but it all feels like so much!” you mewled into his shirt, his grasp growing a bit tighter in an effort to psychically comfort you.

“baby, you’re nothing like your family, you have to know that?” he directed your vision to his gaze, the soft marks of mascara down your dampened face only made his gaze softer.

“you work so hard on trying to be not like your family, you don’t even know how amazing you truly are. you’re so generous, you’re always willing to help someone even if you don’t like them, i know i wouldn’t have that patience!” he softly chuckled, seeing a faded grin on your lips.

you sniffed as he continued his praise, “you’re such a hard worker, and i’m truly in awe of you. you’re the one person who truly puts her best foot forward and it’s so incredibly amazing, but you’re working so hard your exhausting yourself. y/n, it’s breaking me to see you like that.” you saw small wet streaks around his eyes, not truly realizing your self destructive habits had been harming people around you; had been harming him.

“jamie, i’m— im so sorry!” feeling the wash of emotions suddenly bundled up wash all over you, your nervous system feeling overwhelmed with the emotions of sadness, guilt and anger bubble up all at once. you whimpered into his shirt, spewing out mumbled apologies that were barely coherent due to all the sobs.

“shh- shh, don’t apologize.” he articulated, shifting his hips up and grabbing a folded parchment from his back pocket.

“w—whats that?” you questioned, trying to calm down the mewls and whimpers that wanted to escape your throat.

“this, darling, is a schedule.” he pointed out, a week schedule with times on it that labeled your subjects as well as times of the day. he also dedicated certain parts of every single day with “james!!” in bright red ink.

“so those,” he pointed out, directly at all the times he wrote his name leading up to the newt dates, “are times you and me spend together, no studying, just loving. so i can remind my beautiful, smart, and amazing talented loving girlfriend how astonishing she is.” he said with a grin, proud of himself.

“you really know how to charm a girl, potter.” you may have teased, but without him you don’t know what you would’ve done. james was truly your saviour, your light, stars to your moon; if you will.

he was yours, and you were definitely his. 

taglist: @fathermarty @kittykylax @terr0rizer @aspiringsloth20 @dear-luna @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

[lebrookestore]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Collab hosted by @heartyyjeno and @neojaems

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧

Pairing: Qian Kun x reader

Themes: richkid au-ish, royalty au-ish, slight humour, ANGST, strangers to lovers, betrayal, suspense, drugs, murder, cruises, pride and prejudice

Warnings: angst, mentions of murder, drugs, smoking, betrayal, drugging, making out, messed up stuff honestly

Wc: 17.1k

Taglist:  @danishmiilk @channoticedmeuwu @chicksung @1-800-seo @blueprint-han @jenosslut @cupidluvstarrz @kkakkdugi @sweetlyjaem @vera-liscious @leetaeyonglover @kunrengui @unknown5tar @kisshim @the-rooftop-fight @rueyins @kiri-ah @sly-merlin @alicanta77 @rouiyan @jae-dreamin @peachyyjaes  @girlwithmightymuses-deactivated @jenoleemonade​ @radiorenjun​

Summary: Many things can happen on a cruise ship, most of them are unexpected. Secrets are exposed, arrangements are brought to light and love can bloom- but when the secrets and arrangements clash, will the love survive? [loosely based on the Opera; Tristan and Isolde]

Playlist: here

Authors note: My first collab fic!!! I honestly really love how this turned out, and I hope you do too! Take this as a thank you for 400 as well, since I have literally nothing else planned rip. Thanks to Mina for letting me scream about this fic to her and feedback would be really appreciated! Without further ado, I present to you: Love Shot!

“Lady Y/n”, the woman greeted you, bowing respectfully. You smiled softly, touching her shoulder to indicate that it was alright. “Winter”, you said fondly, “You know I don’t care for formalities”, you reminded the girl, who nodded eagerly, and took your bags.

Sighing tiredly, you stood at the entrance, waiting for Winter to return and guide you to your room on the cruise ship, where you would be staying for the next three months. The air was crisp, more breathable than it was in the city. Crossing one hand over the other, standing up straight, you exude confidence and an air of authority, something everyone around you acknowledged and respected.

Your family was and would always be one of the most respected families in Japan. You had money, a name, and many many enemies. There was always someone on the prowl, ever ready to steal your family’s worth, to ruin its reputation. Your father had gotten the family estate when the wealth had been divided amongst him and his brothers, and that had only added up to your net worth. As the daughter of one of the richest men in the world, you had big shoes to fill, especially since you had no siblings. 

You had had your fair share of bad publicity, and drama. Scandals always lazily floated around, and at this point, you welcomed them like an old friend. Added some spice into your otherwise very structured life. 

A year ago, your father had died, leaving all the responsibilities to fall upon you. He had been found dead one morning in his bed, your mother shaking as she sat on the edge, looking on at her dead husband with a crazed look in her eyes. There were rumours and suspicions, but you decided to pay no heed to them.

And with all these new responsibilities, you made the news more times than you cared to count, and the way the media preyed on the tragedy, highlighting it, using it against you. Your mother was at her wit’s end, a broken shell of the commanding woman she was before. You heeded every request of hers, and fulfilled any wish, no matter how idiotic. Your life had changed, but at the same time, it hadn’t. You were still the same filthy rich girl from before.

Winter returned, a rosy hue on her cheeks as she greeted you once more. “This way Ma’am”, you grabbed her arm, glaring mockingly, “Y/n”, you asserted, “You’re never this formal Win, what happened?”

“It’s my job”, she said sheepishly, “And I’m a little out of it, please don’t pay any attention to it”

You wanted to prod her further but decided to respect her privacy, and silently followed her down the halls of the ship, studying your surroundings. It was clear the place was dripping with money, nothing you weren’t used to. With the gold plating and jewel-encrusted chandeliers, you felt more at home than on a vacation.

Well, it wasn’t really a vacation now, was it?

This was business, for your family. A set plan, rules and things you had to do. Even thought it was all arranged, you still had to look pretty and smile and be nice to him.

Stopping in front of a door, she fished out a pair of keys and inserted one of them into the keyhole, opening it and leading you into your room for the stay. It was one of the first-class cabins on the cruise, more spacious than the others. Bowing once again, Winter left you, promising to return to call you for dinner. Sitting down on your bed, you inspected the room, noting its features. It was all the same.

Deciding to get ready for the dinner, you unzipped one of your bags, picking through the garments you had brought along with you. You knew dinners were a big thing, especially if you were of your status, and today would be monumental, especially since you would be meeting someone, and that someone was very important. Finally choosing a silk dress, you slipped it on, retouching your makeup and checking your phone for any updates, you left your room making sure you had your keys with you. The hallways were pretty chilly, so you decided to turn back and get your pullover just in case. 

Waiting patiently by your door for Winter, you checked your phone, reading over the message your mother sent you. A list of instructions, a code of conduct for the evening.

You had to impress them.

Once again, Winter showed up, still donning the rosy blush as she regarded you, and began leading you through the winding halls of the ship. She seemed to be very out of it, not completely focusing on the task at hand as she tripped over her own feet. You reached out, grabbing her arm and stabilizing the girl.

“I’m sorry”, she squeaked, “Forgive me”

“Be careful Winter”, you said, “And stop patronizing yourself, you’re never like this”

Flustered, she nodded a little too fast, “I’m sorry Y/n, just following orders”

“Whose orders?”, you asked incredulously. She rested her hand on the gold plated doorknob, turning to you.

“Your mother of course”, she said, before pushing the door open. Hushed whispers traveled across the room at your arrival, the room falling into silence.

Dinner was served.

Kun walked into the dining hall, his eyes dark and alight with amusement. He slipped his hands in his pockets, leisurely making his way to one of the tables. He observed the scene, taking note of the crowd. Jazz music played softly in the background, setting the mood. Clicking his tongue, he pulled out a chair taking a seat at the table he had chosen. 

He wasn’t alone, there were two other men sitting there, and a woman. One was his brother, Chenle, who was six years younger than Kun. He looked intimidating for an eighteen-year-old, with a square-ish jaw and large eyes. They were set in a blank stare, as if he was used to this, and was tired of it. He regarded Kun with a nod, before going back to his food.

The other was his uncle, Akira, who was only ten years older than Kun himself, being the youngest brother from his mother’s side. He was dressed in an expensive suit, eyes covered with his dark sunglasses. He didn’t even acknowledge Kun, instead, he had his eyes trained on the door, presumably waiting for someone.

The woman was sitting next to Kun, his sister, Yuxi, younger than him by a year. She didn’t even spare a look at Kun, but he was used to it.

A server walked up to the table, handing Kun a menu, and bowing respectfully. He was wearing a white suit, in pristine condition, hair slicked back, shoes polished to the point of reflection. Kun studied the boy, who seemed a few years younger than him. His tag read ‘Heesung’, and he looked bored out of his mind.

“Heesung”, Kun said, “I’d like a glass of Dom Pérignon please”, he requested, to which Heesung nodded, taking note of it in his notepad. “I’ll come back with your drink and order”, he informed Kun as he left.

The doors opened, two women standing there. One was obviously the help of the other, dressed in a black and white uniform. She opened the door wider, exposing the other women to the crowd. She was obviously of some high status, the air around her seemed to hold some sort of authority. She walked down the stairs, her help close behind as she scanned the room to spot a table for herself.

You soon found the table you had been assigned to by your darling mother and walking towards it. You held your head a little higher, asserting a sort of silent dominance over them. Winter pulled out a seat for you, and you thanked her softly, turning to the man on your right.

“Akira, I suppose”, you said, lifting your hand up and shaking his hand. He smiled, “The lovely Y/n”, he said, “I presume your mother has told you about me”

He was handsome, you supposed, in an oldish way. You nodded, “Yes, she has”

“And I hope you are intrigued”, he suggested. You forced a smile, biting down the initial disgust at the older man. “Very much so”, you assured him, turning to the other two, “And you are”, you asked, desperate to avoid any further interaction with Akira.

“Yuxi”, the lady sitting next to Akira introduced herself, holding up a glass of some sort of drink, looking at the other two men.

“I’m Chenle”, the one on your left greeted, smiling slightly. You returned the gesture, looking at the other one expectantly.

“Kun”, he said, disinterest apparent in his tone. “A pleasure to meet you, Y/n”, he said coyly, leaning back in his chair and observed you. Nodding at his curt response, you waited in silence for the waiter to come and take your order. “So who are you?”, Kun asked, to which you blinked in surprise. “You mean you don’t know?”, you asked, not meaning to sound as vain as it came out. You were genuinely shocked at the fact he didn’t know who you were.

“Kun”, Akira warned, “I told you about the lovely Y/n”, he explained, “You know about the deal”

“Was I expected to know her?”, he asked, “To be fair, she's like every other woman here, just richer”

Your eyes widened at his blatant disrespect, as his lips upturned into a smirk, somewhat enjoying your obvious discomfort.

“Ahem”, Heesung interrupted, “Your order?”

Mildly put off, you asked for the meal you wanted, trying not to sink into your seat from embarrassment. If your mother was here, she would’ve given you an earful if you slouched.

Always hold yourself to a higher standard Y/n, she constantly reminded you, Head a little higher than the rest.

Ignore him darling”, Akira advised you. The nickname set a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Excuse me”, you said, “I’m not feeling well”, getting up, you called for Winter, asking her to get your food to your room. 

You walked out gracefully, not missing the sly smile that Kun gave you.

Mornings were something you had always looked forward to. You woke up early on most days, while your mother was still asleep, to be alone with your thoughts. It was hard to think with your mother droning on about responsibilities, and things she wanted you to do for her. You had to mindlessly listen, and accomplish every task she set out for you. You were beyond thankful for Winter, who helped you, and single handedly kept you sane. She was your friend, more than a servant, which was why her sudden formality was confusing you.

While your mother wasn’t with you at the moment, you still decided to leave the confines of your bed, and explore the cruise in peace and quiet, perhaps get an early breakfast alone. You changed into acceptable clothing, casual instead of the finery you were used to and tired of, and headed out to the deck. The cool sea breeze was welcoming, making you feel refreshed. You sipped the tea in your hands, cupping the mug to provide some warmth to your fingers, as you leaned against the railing of the ship.

The floors were made of wood, giving it a rustic feel to it. It contrasted the marble interiors, giving it a simpler look. It was homely, more so than your own home. You smiled wantonly, the silence of the scene comforting.

You mother came to mind, as you remembered the deal, the entire reason why you were on this cruise, it wasn’t a happy vacation, on the contrary, it was a welcoming, an introduction to a new family, one you would soon be thrown into. 

“You're alone”, a voice observed. You turned around to face the man from yesterday.

“Qian Kun”, you said politely, “It appears so”

You weren’t particularly angry at him for not knowing who you were, in fact, you would go as far as to say, you were relieved.

“Relax, I know who you are, I’m just teasing you”, he said, which destroyed all hopes of you being an unknown person. You raised an eyebrow in the question of his doings, to which he grinned, “Y/n Osaki”.

You nodded, looking down at your tea, not quite knowing what to say. You didn’t know Kun very well, but from the short encounters you had with him, he confused you. You studied him for a moment, trying to understand him. He seemed to be put together, content with himself, yet he took pleasure in trivial things, like getting a reaction out of you.

“Well, I don’t truly know you, other than the fact you’re this rich girl my uncle is interested in”, he quipped, standing at your side and looking out at the sea, not sparing you another glance.

“Uncle?”, you asked slightly horrified. Kun seemed to be around your age, so the thought of Akira being his uncle sounded very messed up, especially since your mother was also rooting for the older man.

Kun hummed in agreement, “he was ten when I was born”, he continued. You decided to ignore that fact, for now, focusing on the subtle dig he had thrown at you. “You’re rich too, or so it seems. Certainly, you’re wealthy if you can afford this cruise”

You hadn’t meant to sound vain or stuck up, but it was true. This wasn’t a cheap stay, especially since you knew they were staying on the first-class level of the ship just as you were. Your mother had told you almost everything about them.

He seemed amused, his dimples appearing as he smiled, “We’re comfortable”

You scoffed at the statement, deciding to take a sip of your tea instead of retorting. The conversation, if you could even call it that, fell into a silence. You tapped against the porcelain of the cup, looking blankly at the water.

He was attractive, dark hair splayed across his forehead, dark grey eyes, lips that seemed to upturn into a smirk easily. He had an easy going demeanor, with a touch of underlying darkness, you supposed. It piqued your interest, but you made sure not to show it. 

“See you around Y/n”, he said, walking away, seemingly bored. You watched him disappear under the deck, and suddenly, you were all alone.

Alone with your thoughts.

“And school? How is that going?’, you asked, switching your phone to your other hand as you flipped the page of your book. Your brother bristled at the other end of the line, clearly not pleased with the turn of the conversation, “It’s fine”, he said, “Same old. Sungchan is still trying to woo that lower class girl”, he said this with a snicker, “It’s pathetic really.”

“Tsk”, you clicked your tongue, “Don’t belittle her, she’s smart”

“And not to our standard”, he replied, “Sungchan should know better”

“Shotaro”, you said in a warning tone, “Leave it alone, he’s probably just messing with her. You know how we do things”

“Of course, but it’s turning into an infatuation of sorts, he only talks of her! I’m tired of it”

“Maybe he’s in love”, you suggested, turning the next page. The line went silent, you didn’t worry too much as this gave you time to read a few paragraphs properly, instead of the skimming you had been doing. “And what is love Y/n, hmm?”

“Am I supposed to know?”, you bit back sarcastically. You could hear Shotaro scoff on the other side of the line, “You’re the one getting married, dear sister, and isn’t the eldest sibling supposed to teach the younger one?”

“I am not in love”, you said, “I do not need to teach you anything, pay attention in school instead”

“Love you too Y/n, goodbye”, he said flatly, deciding that if you were to talk of school, he was not going to have any part of it. You shook your head amusedly, placing your phone down and continuing to read. Shotaro was your brother, you were close to him, even with your constant bantering and seemingly formal conversation. It was just how the two of you had been brought up- in a very classy way. You had a reputation to uphold, and a family name to flaunt. 

You shifted in your seat, hearing three knocks on the door. “Come in Winter”, you called out, and the girl walked in, holding a box that was wrapped in ribbon, a pretty bow sitting at the top. You placed your book aside, taking the box from her hands. “What is this for?” “Sir Akira sent it”, she explained, dusting down her generic uniform, “Hesaid he would like you to wear it tonight”

You raised an eyebrow at this, skeptical, but nodded. Winter made motion to leave, but you held her hand, “Sit”, you said with a smile, “Talk to me”

“Miss-”

“Y/n”, you reiterated, “Please Winter?”, she sighed at your request, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “You’re keeping your guard up, we grew up together, stop”, she sighed, “I know, I hate this too”

“Do you? This is my room, no one is watching here, now”, you moved over, patting your lap and she grinned, laying her head down on it. “Aren’t you going to open that?”

“Mmhh”, you hummed, pulling the ribbon, letting the cover loose as a pretty red fabric peeked through. You pulled out the dress, studying it.

“It’s pretty”, Winter observed, looking up at your skeptical face. “What happened?”

“I hate it”, you muttered, “It’s tasteful, sure, but I don’t want to wear it”, you folded it and placed it to the side. “I have several of these.” You wondered how Akira had gotten your size perfectly, let alone the similarity in your style of clothing so on point.

“You still have to wear it tonight”, she reminded you, prospering herself up on her elbows, “How’s your brother?” You glanced at her, picking your book up again, “He’s fine”

“Oh what are you reading?”, she asked, “Will you read to me?”

You nodded with a smile playing on your lips, opening the cover of Pride and Prejudice, leaning back and searching for the line you had finished on. The musty pages welcomed you back like an old friend as you indulged in the love story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. You read about the part, those five chapters where her feelings matured and her opinions changed over time for the man, who she had positively despised before.

You wondered if you’d ever fall for Akira, who you despised too, and was forced into marriage with. Maybe you were a lot like Lizzy Bennet, except you didn’t have a father to back you up.

Duty.

The Osaki Family was very familiar with this term, it was like every second day you heard it. With your family name came responsibilities, expectations and a warped sense of reality. Warped because your reality was very different from most people.

Duty came in different forms. For Shotaro, it was completing his extensive education and taking over the business side of the family, succeeding your father’s work. Your mother’s was to sit there and look pretty, the face of the family as of now, a sympathetic heroine of sorts ever since your father deceased. Yours was to extend family relations, and keep the prestige. You were going to take your mothers place, not something you were particularly looking forward to, but it had to be done.

It was your duty, after all.

The cruise was a way to get away from these duties, by keeping them at the forefront of your mind, replaying like a broken cassette tape. 

“Y/n Osaki”, someone called out, and you looked up from your seat. You were sitting on the deck of the ship, reading in peace with your phone by your side in case of emergency. You recognized the woman as Kun’s sister.

“Yuxi, If I’m not mistaken?”, you asked, moving aside on the bench to give her room to sit.  She crossed her legs, propping one hand on the backrest of the bench and smiling, “Tis I!”, her voice was cheerful, “I’m terribly bored of being surrounded by my brothers, so I thought I’d find you and talk to one of the female specimens”, she joked, causing your lips to upturn into a smile.

“Talking seems wonderful”, you assured her, “What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything honestly, something that isn’t about ‘who’s the man’”, she drawled, an unamused look on her face as she supposedly referenced her brother's banterring. Her eyes cast down to your book, “Jane Austen hmm? My brother loves that book”

“Which one?”

“Kun”, she answered, shifting in her seat, “He can argue for hours about whos the better character,” she smirked, stretching out her legs, “I love my family, but I’m tired of them”

“I understand that far better than you think”, you said, “I sometimes wish we weren’t related”

“You’re one to talk”, she snorted, “You have just about everything you’d ever need and more.”

“I’ll be losing it all in a little, I assume you know this”, you smiled sadly. She nodded, “Alright”, she said, “Perhaps you have everything except freedom”

Kun was tired.

 In the event of having to deal with his brother and uncle’s ‘nonsense’ as he called it, he left the table at dinner to search for some quiet. He walked down the hallways of the ship, the soft rumbling of something he couldn’t quite make out reached his ears. 

He passed his own room, and several others, before coming to the room he was looking for. It had a red door, washed out and dark so it didn’t really stand out. He pushed it open, entering a sort of mini hallway, with another door at the end. 

He walked to that one too, entering a small, dark room. There were boxes and suitcases in there, all from his family.

 But they weren’t all luggage.

 He scanned the room, trying to remember something, it was like there had been an itch ever since he saw you. Like you had opened a door to a memory, but the memory was hazy, he couldn’t quite catch it. It was like a connection had been established, and he couldn’t quite shake it off.

 He sighed in defeat, leaving the room and walking into the hallway once again, only to be met with you, donning a red dress, hair done up in curls. You startled, blinking on seeing him emerge from the side, “Oh”, you said, looking him up and down, “Hello, Kun.” 

He took in your pretty features, wondering how you got roped into this. 

“Shouldn't you be at dinner?”, Kun asked you, lips turning into a sly smile. You looked at him, seemingly unfazed, “Shouldn’t you?”

 “Dinner is nothing special I can assure you that”, he muttered bitterly, “I take you're procrastinating getting there?” 

You nodded, “As much as I enjoy your family's company, I am not entertained by your Uncle, no offense”, you rubbed the side of your arms, “This dress was given by him.”

 “So that’s why he was talking to your servant”, Kun said, “Alright, let’s skip dinner then.”

 “Skip it? My mother would-”

 “We won't tell her”, he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ll make up a convincing story.”

 You studied him, deeming him sincere and nodding, “Lead the way then”, you gestured, and he took your hand, smirking and leading you down the hallways, “There’s a lounge somewhere here”, he mused, “Ah here.”

 The two of you entered a fancy looking lounge that definitely matched the entirety of the cruise ship. There was a bar at the end, and couches in the center. You took a seat, leaning back as he went straight for the drinks

. “Want anything?”, he called, taking a bottle down.

 “French 75”, you requested, “You sister told me you liked Jane Austen?” 

He raised an eyebrow at you, “I do”, he agreed. “Why?” There was that odd feeling again, as if you held some sort of importance, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

 “I mean”, you looked over at the bar, “dinner isn’t going to get over anytime soon and we’re stuck with each other, friendly banter might help pass the time since I don’t have my phone or book with me.” 

He hummed in agreement, “Which book are you reading?” “Pride and Prejudice.”

 “High class families and their literature”, he hummed. “Alright, what about it?”

 “You don’t seem very intrigued by the story”, you observed, taking the cocktail he handed you. “What do you think of Lizzy Bennet’s and Mr. Darcy’s relationship?”

 “Lizzy Bennet, in crude terms would be considered a high class bitch.” 

“Excuse you?”, you asked, slightly outraged in a playful manner. “She is smart and funny and has some brains, unlike the rest of the sisters.”

 “She judged Darcy all too fast don't you think?” He raised his own glass to his lips, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke. “She blatantly disregarded his affections.” 

You felt heat rush to your face, mostly in indignant anger, an urge to defend one of your all time favorite heroines of any sort of story. You had always stood by her. Seeing someone ridicule her, though you had invited him to do so, was irking. “She did not! He bitched about her family and confessed, expecting her to be okay with his idiocy?”

 You asked him hotly, leaning forward in anticipation for his answer. He seemed amused by your irritation, “He’s a man of class, he’s going to judge a not so upper class family. I mean, you would know of this right?”

 “Not if my family was belittled”, you said with a frown, “I see Darcy as the prick who refused to back down because of his goddamn pride.” 

“I always thought Elizabeth was the one with pride, and Darcy held the Prejudice against her family.” His argument was strong.

 You nodded. “I suppose you’re right, but Lizzy Bennet-”

 “Can’t do any wrong?”

 You muttered some not so ladylike things under your breath that your mother would’ve had your head for, glaring at the man who sat across you. While you were all up for playful arguing, being interrupted was something you weren't used to—nor did you appreciate it. 

“Would you let me speak?”

 He smirked, “I suppose you’re defending her because”, he looked at his glass, studying the clear liquid inside it, “you think of yourself as her.”

 “I’m done here”, you said quietly, placing your drink down and getting up, refusing to look at him, knowing his smug expression would just irk you more. His accusation, while probably lighthearted, did not sit well with you. 

“Goodbye.”

The sun was out the next afternoon, casting its golden rays on the deck of the ship, giving it a lovely, summery feel. Guests bustled and walked about, chatting in groups. A small band played their merriment off to the side, setting the mood with their joyful tunes.

Winter stood off to the side with the rest of the servants, a pensive expression on her pretty face.

You stood with the rest of the crowd, next to Akira’s family, returning the warm smile Yuxi sent you. Apparently, there was supposed to be some sort of performers on the ship to entertain the folk. 

You sighed, watching the scene with a polite, yet bored gaze. You would rather be in your room reading, instead of out here. But of course, this was all done from obligation, you had to be there.

Akira shuffled to stand next to you, “I missed you yesterday”, he said, “I was looking forward to seeing you in the dress I got you.”

“I wasn’t feeling too well last night”, you fibbed, eyes meeting Kun’s for a fleeting second, “I appreciate the dress.”

You could feel Kuns smirk, even if you weren’t looking at him. Shifting on your feet, you leaned towards Winter, requesting her to get you a glass of water. 

You were still so uncomfortable around Akira, with his easy smile and underlying words. You knew he was being nice because he had to. You were already his, whether you liked it or not. Shivering at the thought, you took the glass from your friend, taking a sip and trying to focus on the band that played a jazz rendition of ‘Seven Nation Army’.

You wondered for a moment, how it would be if you weren’t from the Osaki family. If you were just another girl, instead of leverage for your family. Once Shotaro was of age and finished his schooling, he would take your fathers place, your mother would remain a shell of herself, useless and forgotten.

You would be like her soon.

Yuxi called Akira for something, giving you room to breathe.

“I hope you’re not still angry at me”, Kun’s voice came from behind, an amused lilt to his voice, “About our little miff yesterday.”

You turned to face him, shaking your head, “I’ll admit, my storming off was a tad immature.”

He frowned, studying you. “Why are you so formal all the time?”

The question took you aback, “Sounds like you have a stick up your ass, reminds me of my friend, Ten.”

“You literally just apologized to me, only to insult me once again?”, you asked, wondering how his mind worked. He was so confusing, one moment all proper the next he acted like a regular kid with a crass sense of humour.

A smile stretched out on his lips, “I never apologized Y/n”, he reminded you, “I only asked you if you were still mad.”

“Touche”

“Loosen up a bit”, he said, “Don’t be so high strung all the time.”

You raised an eyebrow at this, “Oh do tell me how”

He grinned, taking your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, “Let’s go then, I have an idea.”

“Oh hell no”

“Oh hell yes”, Kun smirked, “Are you telling me you’ve never had a water balloon fight?”

“You’re telling me this is a regular occurrence for you?”, you asked incredulously. He shook his head, “No, but it's fun, so lets start”, he handed you a bunch of balloons in a bag.

“How the fuck do you even have these? We’re on a cruise?”, your confusion was comical.

The two of you stood in an empty hall in the cruise, and Kun had locked the door so no one would barge inside. Somehow he had accumulated a bizarre amount of balloons all filled with water. You could foresee the mess that was about to befall you.

You silently wondered why the fuck you agreed to this madness. Maybe it had something to do with Kun;s pretty smile.

He shrugged, “Don’t question it. Yuxi me and Chenle fight this way when we want to get away from our Uncle”, he swatted you away, “Now go! Unless you want me to destroy you from the start.”

A challenge.

You never backed down from a challenge.

You thanked yourself for deciding not to wear that summer dress Winter had initially laid out for you, opting for some pants and a shirt instead. 

Grabbing the bag, you hurried to the other end of the hall, hiding behind one of the heavy curtains and picking up one of the balloons, getting used to the weight in your palms. All you had to do was hit him right? Seemed simple right?

Wrong. So wrong.

As soon as you felt as ready and slipped out of your hiding place, you were hit on your leg, a cold wet feeling creeping up on your leg. The impact of the balloon made you stumble a little bit as you regained your footing, shooting Kun a dirty look. He smirked in response, “Pay attention L/n”

You felt another hit on your arm, realizing he had taken advantage of the fact you had been distracted. Narrowing your eyes, you flung your own balloon and gracefully missed him, the balloon ending up rolling on the ground sadly. 

Embarrassed, you retreated back behind the curtains, grabbing two of your weapons, and scurrying to the other curtain before you could be hit again. Your left pant leg was soaked through, still smarting from the hit and your arm was damp, but your focus was on hitting your opponent.

He chuckled, “Hiding just prolongs this, you know that right?”, he was taunting you, and you scowled, coming out from behind the curtain and throwing your balloon, hitting his calf and making him grunt. 

It was your turn to smirk, pleased at your successful attempt. 

Your triumphant feeling lasted about for five seconds, until you were hit again.

Damn Qian Kun and his quick thinking.You staggered back and he walked closer, “Gonna stay behind those curtains?”, he asked coyly, “Okay, fine you need incentive.”, He threw another at you, making you whine at your own slowness. “Lizzy Bennet needs to be more forgiving”

He had brought up your argument. He knew it would tick you off, making you want to justify your own point of view.

“Mr. Darcy needs to stop being such a prick!”, you exclaimed, flinging your own balloon at him, hitting his side, making him wince, “And you need to stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m the stubborn one?”, he said, almost whined. Another water missile landed next to your foot, bursting and spraying you with water. 

After a few minutes, the two of you were soaked to the bone, your clothes stuck to your skin uncomfortably, but a tired smile stretched out on your lips. His expression mirrored yours as he tried grabbing your arm. The two of you had finished all the water balloons and had been chasing each other around the hall like kids.

For the first time you actually felt like a kid.

You squealed as his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you down with him as he tripped. Falling into him, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him and entrapping you in his embrace.

Laughter bubbled from your lips as you struggled against him, “Leave me!”

He laughed into your hair, “Truce. Lizzy and Darcy are both idiots.”

“That's established!”, you said, “Let me go idiot”

He did, a wide smile on his face, “You’re more comfortable around me now”, he observed.

You realized he was right, you were more comfortable. You liked the smile on his face, the lilt of relief in his voice. The hall was wet in some places. One of you hiding places, the curtains had a big splotch of water on it, you silently wondered how the staff would react to the state at which it was in.

“I am”, you stated, “Not so strung up now?”

He snorted, “I destroyed you in the water balloon fight, I practically knocked you down from your high horse.”

He looked at the smile on your face, liking it. Even though your hair was wet and messed up, he thought you were beautiful, now that your face wasn’t set in a semi permanent haughty expression.

You hit him playfully, not finding it in you to glare at him. His dark hair was wet, and it fell in front of his eyes as he looked at you, feigning a look of hurt. “You wound me.”

“My mission in life”, you snickered. A silence fell upon the two of you, as you rubbed your arms, the cold biting into your skin. You would have to leave soon, take a shower and show up and dinner, all prim and proper again. The thought made your stomach sink, because you had had fun for the first time in a long time.

You met Kun’s eyes, which were sparkling with a mischievous glint. Raising an eyebrow at him, you crossed your arms, “What?”

“We both have to agree”, he started, “That Mr. Bennet is the best character.”

Winter scurried along the hallways, clutching an envelope, hiding it under her apron lest she ran into you. Her nails dug into the paper, guilt welling up in the pit of her stomach. She stopped outside the door she had been summoned to

Knocking on the throat thrice, she took a step back, waiting for it to be opened. 

A man opened it, narrowing his eyes at her, “Yes?”

“A letter for you sir”, Winter squeaked, “Sir Akira. From Mrs Osaki.”

Akira grabbed the envelope from Winter, swatting her away. The girl bowed and scurried off, not wanting to have anything to do with the contents of the letter. She had already been swayed by your mother enough.

Akira shut the door and locked it, tearing open the letter, desperate to get to it. He pulled it out, fumbling with the paper and reading it hastily.

Dear Akira,

                I would first like to thank you, this wasn’t easy to do without you. Don’t worry, everything will fall into place, and no one will be the wiser. Y/n, my darling daughter, doesn’t know the whole story, only about the wedding, and we shall keep it that way. When our families unite, it shall all be sweeped under the rug.

I shall forever be grateful to you for helping me get rid of him. My debt is free I suppose now, as you read this letter our plan has been put into effect. In return for helping me you shall have protection and a new reputation.

Thanking you, 

                  Mrs. Osaki

Akira sighed in relief, knowing his fate was sealed. He had been skeptical at first, when he saw how distant you were. You didn’t even give him an inch, and he suspected you knew what he-his family did and had done.

But supposedly you didn’t.

When your mother had asked him for his help, he was surprised. The Osaka family? Not happy? How could it be?

How could a wife have murderous intent as much as your mother did?

Folding the letter, he stuffed it into the pockets of his pants, pulling out his lighter and setting fire to the envelope. He watched the tongues of fire snatch onto the paper, bright yellows and blues emerging from nothing. Throwing it in the bin, he crushed it under his heel and pulled out a cigarette.

Kun walked into the room, rubbing his hair with a towel. His and Chenles rooms were connected to Akira’s on the cruise, so that he could check up on them. A frown appeared on the older man's face as he studied Kun’s bedraggled appearance.

Kun’s parents weren’t like Akira, they were respectable and wealthy nonetheless, but still dabbled in the darker aspect of things from time to time, not that many people knew of it.

“Why do you look like a wet rat?”

Kun scowled at this, “I went for a shower”, he said, “You look like a rat more than I do”

It was no secret that Kun, Chenle and Yuxi despised their uncle for his dealings and amoral nature. But of course, Kun didn’t know the whole story, he didn’t know everything, all the letters, the truth about you and your family.

Even you didn’t know.

The only reason they were there was because if the plan didn’t go through exactly as it had been planned, their family’s reputation would be ruined for possibly forever. It was risky business, one that was going to be fixed, no matter how vile and wrong it was.

“Get ready for dinner, and for goodness sake, clean up”, Akira instructed, ignoring the dig and gesturing towards the door that connected his room to Kun’s, “Be on time.”

His nephew obliged and left, leaving Akira alone. He took a deep breath and walked out into the hallway, travelling along it quietly so as to not attract any attention. He stopped outside a red door, opening it and travelling along the dark little hallway it led into. Opening the final door, he found himself in another room, one that was dark. 

There were several boxes there, and a few suitcases. Akira’s, Kun’s, Chenle and Yuxi’s extra luggage. The boxes were not luggage though, they were Akira’s job. The dark side of things. He fished the letter out of his pocket and put it on the top of one of the boxes, next to the rest of the letters.

Leaving the darkness with the dark.

“You’re quite fun actually”, Yuxi said, chattering away to you during dinner. You smiled, returning the compliment.

You were grateful for her talk, which distracted you from the burning stare that Akira held on you, and Kun’s occasional glances. Not that you were against the latter, but it was slightly unnerving. Of course the two of you were much more comfortable with one another, but another feeling had settled in, a prickling on that settled in the bottom of your stomach.

Did you like it? You didn’t know.

Chenle indulged in conversation as well, you learned that he went to the same school your brother went to: Culture Academy. Apparently Kun had graduated from there just before he left for the cruise. Yuxi went to a finishing school, but you expected that, their family seemed the type to send their children to finishing schools.

You had graduated a few months ago as well, but from another high class school, while your brother attended Culture Academy.

“She’s terrible at water balloon fights”, Kun quipped, a smirk on his face as you glared, “Excuse me-”

“You guys had a water balloon fight without us?”, Yuxi asked, in mock offense, “And to think I actually trusted you for a moment”, she said, turning away from you and jutting her bottom lip out. “The betrayal.”

You laughed, “He dragged me, I had no say in it.”

They weren’t as cold as they had been when you had initially met them. It almost felt as if they were your friends. Taking a bite of whatever Winter had gotten you, you met Kun’s eyes, taking in the amused look in them.

Akira cleared his throat, “I assume you’ll be there for the dance next week?”

You raised an eyebrow, “What dance?”

“Instead of a regular dinner there is going to be a sort of dance”, he explained, “I expect to see you there.”

It was a command, not a request.

There was that constricting feeling again, you gave him a tight lipped, curt nod, looking away again. You hated being around Akira, he made you so uncomfortable, and even though you couldn’t avoid him forever, you would try.

He made you sick.

You took a sip of your drink, letting the burning taste trickle down your throat. You were barely past your first glass, not being a heavy drinker. Your mother had told you it was not respectable to drink too much, so you stuck to her rules. You always stuck to her rules, but god, you would’ve loved to drown the entire glass and ask for another at that moment.

Or throw it at Akira. But that probably wouldn’t have been very respectable either.

Winter walked up to you, tapping your shoulder timidly to get your attention, “Miss”, she said, leaning down to your ear to speak in secrecy, “Your mother has called.”

Pressing your lips together to avoid making a displeased face, you excused yourself from the table and followed your helper into the hallway, taking your phone from her. She gave you an encouraging smile as you began speaking.

“Mother?”

Her harsh voice brought you back down, “Y/n”, she said sternly, “Why did you not go to that dinner?”

You fisted your hand, clenching your jaw. Of course she found out, “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“So you tell no one?

“I wasn’t aware of the fact that everyone was supposed to know about my health”, you couldn’t help the bitter undertone in your voice. She didn’t care whether you were sick or not, she cared about why you skipped.

“Not everyone, just the Qian family”, she hissed, “Y/n focus. Duty.”

You knew there was no point in arguing with your mother, she was as stubborn as an ox. You could never be right against her.

“Yes mother, I’m sorry”, you said through gritted teeth. You could hear the smile on her face at your surrender, “Remember darling, you need to impress them”, she reiterated, “It’s for-”

“The good of our family, yes I know”, you sighed, “I’ll follow the rules.”

“Don’t just follow the rules Y/n, behave”, he tone of voice made you feel like a little girl. “You may not know it, but our family name depends on it.”

This took you aback, leaving you mildly confused. What did this stupid vile plan have to do with anything? Sure your family didn’t have the cleanest record (those scandals tainted it a little bit), but otherwise it was extremely respected all through Japan and other parts of the world.

The question sat at the tip of your tongue, but you knew better than to press your mother for answers. If she wanted to be vague, she would. Ending the call politely, you walked back into the dining hall, sitting next to Yuxi. Whatever momentary joy you had gotten from talking with them vanished, instead it was a reminder of your cruel fate, the bitter reality you had to face whether you liked it or not.

Why?

“You’re insufferable”, you declared, leaning against the railing, “Poor girl, you guys really made her jump into a pool?”

He laughed, “Yeah, you should have seen the look of anger on her face. And in full clothing too?”

You frowned, “You monster!”

“Hey, she signed up for it, she wouldn’t have gotten in if she refused”, he reminded you. Kun was currently telling you stories of his schooling at Culture Academy, particularly about a club he was in. You listened intently, enjoying yourself more than you would like to admit. He was definitely entertaining.

Maybe it was because you never experienced half the things he did.

You looked at the ocean, the sun shining down on it and sparkling. “I suppose she did”, you whispered, letting the words float about in the air as a silence settled upon the two of you. It was comfortable, you didn;t feel the need to fill it in. He took out a lighter and a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long slow drag.

“You smoke?”, you asked, unable to keep the surprise from your voice. You had never seen him do it before. The revelation was something you hadn’t expected.

Another thing your mother drilled into you: never smoke. It’s unladylike and very unbecoming of a person, and also because the news would latch onto it and create a scandal that was not needed. In general you had never seen the appeal of smoking.

He raised an eyebrow at you, nodding as if he expected you to know this. Almost as if he was bewildered with your surprised response. And he was, Kun was confused as to why you were so shocked with the fact. It was just a cigarette, nothing that terrible. Didn’t you know what Akira did-

Oh.

Oh no.

“Yeah, occasionally”, he said, brushing it off quickly, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel, “Want to head back in?”

You nodded with a shrug, “Okay.” 

He smiled brightly, and a fuzzy feeling made its way into your stomach. You returned the smile, pushing away the feeling away to the back of your mind, far away in a dark corner of your mind, simply because it wouldn’t be right. You couldn’t even afford to think that way.

Not with the arrangement that had been set up, that was for sure.

You followed him inside, another thought blooming in the same dark corner of your mind, no matter how much you tried to push it away.

God it was wrong on so many levels though. 

“She got in”, Kun said, continuing his story from before, “It surprised everyone.”

You smiled, “I’m glad, poor girl, I hope she didn’t get hypothermia or something.”

Kun smiled, “She took my place as I left, you know, graduation and all”, he said, reaching his hand out and grabbing your own, leading you down.

“Your friends sound like fun”, you said fondly, even though you didn’t know them, “Especially that Hendery guy. Did he actually do that?”

Kun laughed, nodding, “He’s mad. I miss them”, his voice turned wistful, but only for a moment, before that pretty smile stretched across his face once again, “I have to tell you about the time Dejun…”

As you went back under the deck and the warmth of the hallways hit you, you decided you would deal with the feeling later. You decided to listen to him instead, liking the way his eyes lit up talking about his friends. You were starting to realize that you were now one of them, one of his friends.

That though stayed in the forefront of your mind, refusing to be pushed back.

And somehow, you didn’t mind.

Kun stepped into Akira’s room, eyes narrowed at his uncle. The tension in the air immediately raised tenfold. 

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

Akira sent his nephew a questionable look, “What do you mean?”

Kun sighed, running a hand through his hair, “Y/n”, he said, your name rolling off his tongue easily, yet there was a sort of anger that settled into it. Why didn’t you know? You should’ve known.

Why did he care this much?

Akira sighed, “What about her?”

“She doesn’t know who you are, not the entire truth.”

Akira let the statement hang in the air, his silence answering. He leaned back in his chair, humming an idle tune. “You’re right, but what prompted this?”

“She saw me smoking”, Kun said, “And was confused, she definitely didn’t look pleased. Tell me, how would she react when she realizes the man she has to marry is a fucking drug lord?”

His uncle winced at Kun’s words, “I know, but she won’t ever know.”

This was madness.

Kun knew of course, of the plan, but he didn’t know the whole story. He knew you were to be married to Akira, an arranged marriage that had been, well, arranged by your mother. And Yuxi had confirmed you knew of it as well. You had never seemed too keen on it, and this worsened everything.

“Sit”, Akira ordered, “And I’ll tell you.”

Holding back a grimace,  he complied, sitting opposite Akira. He waited for the older man to go on, wondering for a moment how it would be like to be in your shoes. You were around his age, and had to marry his uncle? The thought itself was mortifying.

“The Osaki family”, Akira started, “Well known, you’ve heard of them”, he didn’t wait for Kun to respond in any way, “They’re practically perfect, are they not? You’ve seen Y/n, you’re closer to her than I am. With her airs and graces, you’d think she’s perfect too, wouldn’t you?”

Of course Kun though you were perfect, but that's besides the point. He didn;t see how this made any sense.

“It’s all a lie Kun”, Akira said, “They’re unhappy, so unhappy. Her mother was a miserable, poor lady, forced to sit on the sidelines while her bastard of a husband ignored her.”

Wasn’t your father dead? 

Akira cleared his throat, “They’re perfect on the outside, a dollhouse, but through the curtains, it's all a mess. She asked me for help.”

Kun frowned, “Y/n-?” “No”, he said with a smile, “Her mother.”

It was slowly coming together, a puzzle so horrifying Kun didn’t want to believe it. His uncle had done many horrible things, many illegal things, but fuck, he prayed this one wasn’t real.

This was murder.

“So I helped”, Akira’s voice went hoarse, “I helped the way I could. I slipped a drug into a package and sent it to her, one so strong that could kill.”

Horror. This was madness.

“The next day, Mr Osaki was found dead”, a slow sadistic smile stretched out on Akira’s lips, “And Mrs Osaka was overjoyed! She thanked me profusely for helping with her plan. She promised to repay me somehow for my kindness.”

Kindness. Crime. When had the line between the two grown so blurry? Kun was frozen in his seat, frozen in fear. In fear for himself and his siblings, in fear for his family for being related to such a monster. He feared for you, the unsuspecting girl who had walked into his life and brought out things from the shadows he wished he left there. The girl, who’s own mother had been the reason behind her fathers death.

Fuck it was so wrong.

He knew the world he lived in, the wealth and the riches always brought trouble, but never in his life had he ever foreseen this much trouble. The clock on the wall of Akira’s room ticked slowly, every second seeming like an hour. Kun wanted to leave, but he was frozen in his seat, glued there.

His curiosity had gotten the better of him. He needed to know more. What was the ending to this tragic tale?

“And this is my repayment”, Akira said, “I marry Y/n, and everything gets sweeped under the rug. I can start a new Kun, I don’t have to be this person. I know you hate me, but listen, this could change everything.”

Kun felt sick.

“No”, he muttered, “This changed nothing you…”, he studied his uncle's tired expression. Akira’s eyes held a triumphant glare, and that made everything worse.

“You sick man”, he whispered, getting up, “She doesn’t deserve this. You don’t deserve a fresh start Akira, you have blood on your hands.”

Akira groaned, “I don’t expect you to under-”

‘Good”, Kun said, “I’m leaving and I want nothing to do with you for the rest of this trip.”

“Don’t tell your little friend”, Akira sneered, “If you tell her I won;t be the only one affected. Her mother will be brought into the light as well, and you really think no one will suspect Y/n?”

It was a losing situation from all sides.

“She doesn’t know who I am”, Akira said, agreeing with Kun’s earlier statement, “let's keep it that way, shall we?”

Dearest Akira,

                    Thank you for sending me the drug, I’ve slipped it into his drink. He shall be gone soon, and I shall be free. My son will take his palace when he finishes school and Y/n will be yours. A lovely full circle. I won’t have to deal with a man I hate anymore, a man that pushed me aside for everything.

Once upon a time I truly loved him you know? I trusted him and I gave him my heart. He trampled on it and now all I’m left with is a shell.

He forgot I existed, I am but a placeholder.

Not for long.

Thanking you,

                     Mrs. Osaki

You sat on your bed, reading yet another chapter of your beloved Pride and Prejudice in silence, as Kun sat on the other side, looking at his phone and occasionally stealing glances at you.

The friendship the two of you shared was….odd to say the least. You didn’t have to talk, even the silence was enough. You enjoyed his company a lot more than you cared to admit. Turning the page, you decided to stop for the day, placing your bookmark in the middle and shutting the book, turning your attention to Kun.

He couldn’t help the guilt that bubbled inside him, even though he had done nothing wrong. It was the heaviness he carried around for possessing the truth, and was hit with the consequences everytime he looked at you.

“Yes?”, you asked.

He blinked, “What?”

“You’ve been staring at me oddly”, you clarified, “I’m wondering if I did anything to offend you.

“No, no!”, he said a little hurriedly, “I apologize, I’m a little out of it today.”

“Do tell”, you said, propping your chin up on your hand, eyes meeting his with an expectant gaze. He gave you his easy smile, “It’s nothing I promise.”

“I don’t believe you for a second, you’re terrible at lying”, you declared, “Oh come on, I thought we trusted each other?” You tried guilt tripping him into telling you, but he was surprisingly stubborn.

“Do we now?”

“You wound me”, you muttered dryly, “Alright I won’t press you for answers.”

“Thank you for this kindness, oh Lady Y/n”, he said, making a show of pretending to curtsy, which was comical since he was sitting. You couldn’t help the amused smile that made its way to your face at that.

You stood up, placing your book on one of the side tables, brushing down your pants, “We need to be at the deck in five minutes, so I suppose we should make a move.”

He followed suit as the two of you made your way up to the deck. The dinner was out there tonight, so it was bound to be a little bit more casual than the usual dinners in the dining room. This also meant that you didn’t need to sit with the Qian family, which was a mix of relief and disappointment. You liked Kun and his siblings, but at the same time…

Yeah.

The night was a little chilly, so you had pulled on a sweater, finding a table and taking a seat, watching as Kun walked over to his own family, looking stiff. You took the menu from Winter, eyes scanning over the food.

“Ahem.”

You looked up from the menu, only to be met with Akira’s disapproving gaze. “Y/n”, he greeted, “How are you feeling today?”

You swallowed your contempt, forcing a tight pained smile, “Very well, thank you Akira.”

“I’m glad, then why don’t you sit with us?”

Your lips twitched as you tried to think of a way to get yourself out of this. “I’m quite fine here, thank you for the offer.”

He smiled widely, leaning down to your eye level, resting his elbow on the table and effectively capturing your attention. “It wasn’t an offer, sweetheart.”

The nickname made your skin crawl, as you reeled back, “Akir-”

“You will sit with us”, he said firmly, “What would your mother say if you refused?”

Your eyes widened as you realized he knew, fingers gripping the menu. He knew how your mother was and fuck, him knowung that scared you even more. Clearing your throat, you pushed all your confidence into your voice, “I’m quite comfortable here Mr. Qian.”

You didn’t use his first name, you used the family name, hoping to settle the argument, to show that you were not moving.

He took the menu from you, “Come along Y/n, its for the be-”

“Let her be.”

Akira turned around, facing his nephew, “Kun”, he said, voice falling into a tone that screamed it was a warning, “I am not talking to you.”

“But I’m talking to you”, Kun narrowed his eyes at Akira, “She wants to sit there, let her sit there. She is not obliged to follow your every instruction.”

Akira sighed, glancing back at you and smiling sickeningly sweet, inclining his head and walking away, going under the deck. You let out a sigh of relief, looking at Kun who looked oddly guilty.

“Thank you”, you said, “I could’ve handled it, though.”

“I know you could’ve”, he acknowledged, “I just felt like stepping in and helping.” His explanation was curt as he pulled out the chair opposite you, “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all. I suppose you’re wondering why I let you sit and wanted nothing more to do with your uncle?”

“I’m not”, he said, “I know what's happening there. And the position you’re in, better than you do.” A sad smile stretched out on his lips(not that you were observing them or anything), leaving you slightly bewildered. What did he mean by that?

You studied Kun, his attractive features and dark eyes. They looked like they held a secret, one you couldn’t figure out.

“Why did you help me?”, you asked again, meeting his eyes. He held your gaze for a few minutes, before they dropped to your lips for a split second. You held your breath, waiting for his answer, and mildly overwhelmed.

Did he feel the same way you had been feeling lately? Why did the prospect of that make you feel elevated? Fuck, you couldn’t think like that, it would ruin everything-

“I can’t tell”, he muttered, “I just care.”

The truth chases a lie with fervor, no matter how small. Like a lover in the night, chasing its partner with passion even in the darkest times.

You observed yourself in the mirror, studying the black dress you were wearing. It had a gold trim at the edges, and lace at the back, giving it the perfect combination of classy and scandalous.

Winter took a step back, curling iron in hand as she marvelled at her own handiwork, a smile adorning her pretty face, “You look lovely Y/n!”, she praised. You really did look lovely, the picture of what you were always supposed to portray: perfection.

“Thank you Win”, you smiled at her, “why don’t you wear one of my dresses tonight?”

Her eyes lit up in surprise and confusion as she placed the iron down, shaking her head, “Oh I couldn’t Miss, I’m a part of the staff, I will be helping out for the evening.”

“You don’t want to pretend you’re not just for a few minutes? You can change after fifteen minutes and go back to your work”, you enticed her, wanting your friend to have some fun.

She hesitated, “No miss, I could get in trouble.”

“Alright”, you relented, standing up from your seat and turning to the door, “Thank you Winter”

“Your very welcome miss, now go, the Qian family is awaiting you.”

You nodded, walking into the hallways and following the few people who were already going to the dance.People of repute, people who would look at you and incline their heads respectfully, as you did for them. They were from your world, after all, everyone was rich and important.

Standing outside the doors, you took in a deep breath and walked in. The hall had been decorated, changed drastically. The tables had been pushed to the sides, for the seating, and the center was left as the actual dance floor.

You walked over to the tables at the side, greeting a few people you knew. You spotted Winter standing at the sidelines with the staff. On reaching the refreshments table, you took one of the glasses of champagne and brought it to your lips.

Jazz music played as couples took the floor, swaying to it. You watched the Qian family, noting that Akira was looking for someone, probably you. Turning your back towards them, you took another sip of your drink. You looked at the starters that had been placed out for the guests, wondering what your mother would think if you took a plateful and sat alone in a dark corner eating. The picture of her horrified expression was enough to tickle you.

Distracted within your own thoughts, you failed to notice Kun standing next to you, an amused expression on his face as he watched you. To him, you looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress, even more so than usual.

“Y/n”

You jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion of your thoughts, facing the man. He was dressed in a suit, hair done slightly messy, but on purpose. His dark eyes met yours, amused as he smirked, “Hey.”

“Hey”, you breathed out, snapping out of checking him out. He looked extremely attractive tonight, a thought you couldn’t shake off. “Kun.”

He nodded, inclining his head towards the table, “I’m sure the refreshments are extremely interesting but”, a slow grin stretched out on his lips, “Would you like to dance?”

You suppressed your own smile, nodding and taking his hand he had offered you. Kun led you to the dance floor, a little off the centre so you wouldn’t be seen easily. Resting one hand on your waist, the other grasped your own, bringing it up mid air. He took the first step behind with you following him as the two of you danced.

“I’m not great at dancing”, he confessed, “So I have to warn you, I’m running off ballroom dancing class from school when we had our Formal Dance.”

You smirked, “Do you want me to lead or something?”

“Only if you twirl me”

You laughed at this, “Alright, brace yourself.”

He gave you a horrified look, “NO, nevermind, I’ll twirl you instead”, he muttered, retrieving his hand from your waist and raising the other so you could turn gracefully. You didn’t make any attempt to bite your giggled away at this, turning and facing him again, back into your former position.

“That was actually quite fun, wanna try?”

He gave you a look that screamed ‘really?’, shaking his head, “I thought we established that I was fine without twirling.”

“But-”

“No”

“Fine”, you made a show of being upset over it, saying something about he was missing out on his youth and that twirling during ballroom dancing was one of the few fineries of life he would never experience if he didn’t do it right now.

That, for some reason, still didn’t entice him.

Oh well, his loss.

You bantered lightly, as you swayed to the music together. You melted together almost, in the midst of your laughter and smiles. You felt so comfortable with him, but every moment you felt like that seemed like a curse, reminding you he wasn’t what you were there for. Whatever you felt towards Qian Kun was wrong, so wrong.

He led the two of you off to the side, away from the dance floor, still in each other's arms for some reason, even though you had finished dancing. He lifted your hand, twirling you once again just for the effect and grinning.

Once you faced him, you realized how close the two of you were. His hands were on your waist anyways, one of your hands was around his neck. Your other hand was intertwined with his, making the contact seem even more intimate.

The smile melted off your face as his eyes flickered to your lips. It was as if he had read your mind, and you wished he'd do it again. You wished he woul-

He leaned forward hesitantly, and in that dark corner of the dining hall, while the others danced around, while Akira looked for you somewhere, behind the tables and everyone, Qian Kun kissed you.

It was a timid kiss, his lips barely brushed against yours, before he pulled away, blinking at you. You stared back at him, equally as surprised, but not in a bad way. He dropped the hold he had on you, but kept holding your hand, as if he was figuring out what to think.

You grew slightly impatient with this, leaving his grip and cupping his face, bringing him back into a kiss. This one was much less innocent, it didn’t feel like he was exploring something for the first time. It felt real, and it felt right.

“Not here”, he muttered softly against your lips, pulling you along with him, out into the hallways. You followed him, giddy from the kiss, giddy from the fact that you had even kissed him. How did that happen? When had that happened? The incident that had taken place mere seconds ago seemed days old, almost as if it had happened several times before.

You wanted to kiss him again.

Resisting the urge to stop him right there and there, you let him lead you to wherever. He stopped outside a red door, almost rust in colour, hesitating for a moment, before he seemingly decided to fuck it all and opened it, pulling you into the little corridor it opened into.

He kissed you again, once, twice, thrice, until you lost count. Pushed up against the wall, your senses seemed to heighten. The low buzz of the cruise ran through you as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. All the banter, the teasing, the way he would trap you with his words had built up to this.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The only way you could describe the kisses was breathtaking. You felt as if you were struggling for air, yet you didn’t want to pull away. Your lungs screamed for air, but you didn’t want to heed. You didn’t want to break the spell he had put you under. You liked the burning feeling, the way his lips felt against yours, the way his body felt against yours. Drowning, you were drowning but fuck, you wanted no one to save you.

You wanted to drown.

He pulled away finally, letting you suck in a breath. 

“This is wrong”, you whispered, and he nodded, agreeing, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again.”

He took a step away from you, studying your features. You leaned against the wall, letting the silence overtake the two of you. You breathed heavily, making up for the air you had lost, albeit willingly.

Footsteps.

Soft footsteps made their way down the hallways, you could hear it. Kun looked alarmed, glancing at the door, “Wait here.”

You frowned, but nodded as he left, closing the door after him and supposedly speaking to someone in hushed tones, further muffled by the barrier between the two of you. You sighed, looking along the corridor you were in at the moment, walking to the end and opening the other door, lest the person he was speaking to burst in and found themselves in a very awkward situation.

You found yourself in another room, one that was dark. Using your sense of touch, you managed to navigate around it, noting that there were suitcases and boxes. You stumbled into one, wincing slightly as a sharp pain travelled through your shin. Using the box to steady yourself, your eyes were drawn to the little labels on the sides of them.

Squinting, you brushed over the names, trying to make out what they were.

Qian Akira, cocaine.

Reeling back, you blinked. Were those drugs? Looking at a few other boxes, you had forgotten about the pain in your leg as horror filled your senses, reading the names of drug after drug, all with the Qian’s names on it. The man you were being forced to marry was a criminal.

You had been thrown into a trance of some sort, a trance of absolute dread. For some reason you couldn’t look away as you kept reading, realizing that whatever was happening was much more serious than you had thought.

The next box had a few papers on the top of it, kept haphazardly one on top of the other. Letters of some sort, envelopes and receipts. You picked one up, eyes scanning over its content, or whatever you could make out in the darkness.

Dear Akira

                It’s set in stone! He’s gone, thank you so much. I promise you that this time next year you will be with my Y/n and everything will be solved.

Thanking you,

Mrs Osaki

The sight of your mothers handwriting and her name at the end of the letter made you sick. The other letters were much like the first, each one releasing more and more information, letting you piece together its words to form a cohesive thought.

Fuck.

You dropped the letters, breathing going heavy as you heard more footsteps. Someone was entering the room, they were coming inside and they would find you. You weren’t supposed to be here, you could tell by the way you had been written in the letters. 

You should have listened to Kun when he told you to stay where you were-

Kun.

Oh god.

The room seemed to close in on itself, the stacks towering above you. You felt trapped, claustrophobic and disgusted. Disgusted by the fact would ever put you in such a repulsive situation. You ran your fingers over the dust covered boxes, reeling back at the names and information that was on them. Bile rose to your throat as you choked back sobs.

He was responsible for it all, all the misery that had been thrown upon you, the odd requests all made sense. This wasn’t an innocent union, it was an elaborate cover up, and you were the leverage.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you staggered back, leaning on the wall behind you for support. Shouts echoed from the other end of the dark room, and your breath hitched in your throat in fear of being caught.

Shutting your eyes and clamping your hand over your mouth, you counted to ten in your mind, praying that whoever it was wouldn;t find you. The voices resided, the footsteps growing farther and farther. You opened your eyes, only for them to widen in a mixture of relief and fear.

“What are you doing here?”

Fuck.

Kun had made a big mistake, he had led you to the worst possible place he could have taken you in his daze. He had gotten distracted by you, and now he had to deal with the consequences.

If he could fucking find you.

After thwarting Akira’s attention by telling him you had gone on the deck for some fresh air, he returned into the corridor, before realizing it was the one place he wasn’t supposed to take you.

And you were nowhere in sight.

He looked around in alarm, before Akira’s voice called out again, “What are you doing Kun?”

He turned around, “Nothing, just checking, I want something from my suitcase,” he said quickly. His uncle narrowed his eyes at him, “And what is that something?”

“I left my book inside the suitcase, and I’m not interested in the dance so I thought I’d go read.”

“Y/n is not on the deck.”

“Am I supposed to keep tabs on her?”, Kun bit back, “She’s probably back at the hall Akira.”

Akira raised an eyebrow at Kun, “I don’t know what you’re playing at, young man, but I don’t like it”, he said, raising his voice. Kun felt like a little kid again, even if his uncle was just ten years older. Clenching his jaw he stood his ground, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

Akira left Kun alone, deciding that he wasn’t worth it. 

Kun walked into the room, looking around for you, praying you weren't there. He walked to his suitcase, and narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the outlines in the room.

He heard something shift, and turned on his heels, squinting. He could just about make out your figure standing in the corner, hand over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut. You trembled slightly as you stood there.

He walked over just as you opened your eyes, to meet his own in horror. You were definitely shaking, lower lip trembling in what looked like fear as you tried backing away from him, even though you were already against the wall.

“What are you doing here?”

He took a step forward, reaching out to hold your hand, eyes shrouded in concern at your state, but you shrinked away. “Don’t.”

“Y/n-”

“No”, your voice was shaky, “Stay away from me.”

Your mind was a mess, thoughts racing. You felt used and exposed, so vulnerable. Everything you knew had been a lie, you had been betrayed. Just a few moments ago you were happy, now everything you knew had been shattered, including your own heart.

“You knew didn’t you”, your voice broke in the middle, “You knew.”

Kun’s fake smile melted off his face as he realized what had happened, taking a step away from you. The tears in your eyes made their way down your face as you sucked in a breath, crouching down with your hands over your ears.

All you wanted to do was block all of it out, block reality out and not think of it, but that was hard when reality was staring back at you with a guilty expression.

Suddenly everything clicked into place, why he had been so nice, why he kept helping you. I was all out of guilt, everything was a fucking lie. Half truths and twisted words, secrets and scandals.

It was sick and twisted and you had fallen into the trap unwillingly, and didn’t know how to get out. 

You rocked yourself slowly, trying to compose yourself amongst the madness. You wanted to scream, to cry and tell Kun that you hated him, that you wanted him to leave and never talk to you again. Maybe that’s what hurt worse, the fact that you were attached. 

You had trusted Kun, you had fallen for him like the idiot you were, only for it all to come back for you, slapping you in the face. You felt so stupid for letting yourself believe anything good would come out of this. You should have listened to your conscience when it told you this was wrong.

But this...this was worse than wrong. This was murder. The betrayal of it all hit you hard, and it took all of your willpower not to fall over and give up.

“It was all fake”, you muttered, “all of it”

“Y/n I-”

“You were pitying me”, you spat, “You knew and yet”, sucking in a breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring the heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach, the hole that seemed to have been ripped out from your chest. “You still played me.” 

Kun pressed his lips together in a tight line, regret eating away at him. Of course it wasn’t all for his uncle, but you wouldn’t listen even if he tried. You were much too distraught, too far gone for that. Instead he composed himself, leaning down and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“We need to get out of here.”

The harshness of the statement made it worse. You looked up at his serious face through your hazy eyesight, wanting to push him away, but neither did you want to be alone. He sighed, helping you up to your feet, “We have to go or they’ll find you here and it won’t be pretty.” 

Taking your hand in his, Kun pulled out of the room, raising a hand to his lips, silently telling you to keep quiet. “If you don’t want Akira to find you here, go straight to your room, say you were sick.”

He was pity helping you again.

You nodded, sniffling slightly and pulling yourself together again, rubbing your arms. You hated it, fuck, and that moment you hated your own mother. You hated the fact that you had to depend on the boy who betrayed you. The boy who you kissed, and was willing to forget that it was wrong, until the world crashed down upon you.

Walking with you, he decided to part ways where the two hallways met, repeating his instructions from before, refusing to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, before walking away in the direction opposite where you were supposed to go.

How had so much gone so wrong so fast?

Locked.

You were locked away in your room, refusing to get out of it. The only person you let in was Winter, who came in with meals and other information. You ignored every one of Akira’s presents, declined your mother’s calls and avoided the rest of the Qian family like the plague.

It was like you had spiralled, down into this hole you couldn’t climb out of. Your father was dead, it wasn’t natural. He had been killed and you were amongst the murderers. Your mother had worked with them.

Your brother was back home, going about his life as usual. The world revolved as it always did, but yours has stopped.The little bubble that you had lived in for most of your sheltered life had finally burst. You had been thrown into real life before you could even say anything about it.

Knock!

“Come in”, you said, watching as Winter entered with a plate and her own phone, “Y/n”, she greeted you, with that same funny formal tone, “It’s your brother”

She handed you her own phone, and you frowned. Why hadn’t Shotaro just called you? Why had he called Winter?

Brushing those thoughts aside, you held the phone to your ears, “Taro?”

“Hey”, he said, “hold for a second, would you?”

You didn’t reply, patiently waiting for him, but instead you were greeted with another voice, a voice you definitely didn;t want to hear.

“Darling.”

Your throat seemed to close up, mouth going dry as you gripped the phone even tighter, looking at Winter in alarm. She looked away, and began setting your things straight on the little table next to your bed.

“Mother.”

“What has happened to you?”, she asked, voice cutting through any thoughts, “I thought you understood the gravity of the situation. I have told you countless times-”

“I understood what you told me before I found out I was a pawn,” your voice was remarkably steady, almost scarily calm as you leaned back, “I don’t care anymore.”

“Y/n”, your mother warned, “I told you, our family name depends of it, even if you don’t how how or why-”

“I do know”, you interrupted her smoothly, “I know that my mother is an amoral bitch and the fact that you killed father, without thinking of the feelings of her children, and went on to throw her daughter into a dangerous position.”

You were met with the static from the other line. Had you finally won? Your mother stayed silent at your sudden outburst.

“How did you find out.” It was a question, but it came out as a statement. That helplessness returned, your level headedness disappearing all of a sudden. How could she be so insensitive? She didn’t care at all.

“Doesn’t matter”, he continued, “Now you know it's imperative you marry Akira, or our secrets will be exposed and the family name will be tainted. This also saves the Qians.”

You fisted your hand, spite coursing through your veins. Fuck, you were so angry, angry at your mother for never doing your job, for expecting you to comply with her twisted plans. You were tired of playing along, you were fed up of being perfect, or at least, fed up of portraying that image.

“I hate Akira”, you said for the first time out loud, making them real. You despised him and everything he was, and the new information you had gathered about him had just made you hate him more. You wished you had never met the Qian family, Akira, or Chenle, or Yuxi, or Kun-

That was a lie. You didn’t regret meeting Kun, you regretted trusting him. You regretted not listening and going into that room. You regretted so much, but you regretted knowing the truth the most.

You wanted to live the lie again. 

“And I don’t care if you get in trouble mother, you deserve it.”

“It’s not just me Y/n”, she said, “It’s the Qian family as well, and it’s you and your brother.”

Shotaro.

“He still doesn’t know?”

“We’ll keep it that way. He’s still in school.”

Pursing your lips, you sighed, “I don’t want this”

It was as if she knew she had hit a weak spot, she could feel your resolve wavering. “Do it for Shotaro, if no one else. He hasn’t met life yet.”

You couldn’t understand how she was so cool about it, how she didn’t seem to care that there was blood on her hands, blood of her husband and no less. You supposed crying and screaming wouldn’t accomplish or change anything. This was your reality, and you just had to accept it.

Clicking off the call, you handed Winter’s phone back to her, burying your head in your hands. Decisions, decisions.

Winter stood there with a pensive look, biting her lower lip, before sitting down next to you, “I’m sorry Y/n, but what is troubling you?” Her soft voice mixed with the concerned look on her face was enough to make you break, leaning into her as tears built up in your eyes. She wrapped an arm around you, keeping you steady and holding you up.

She figured she owed you as much.

“Everyone I know has destroyed me”, you whispered hoarsely, choking back a sob, “They’ve either betrayed me or destroyed me and I’m so tired.”

“Who has done so?” She asked, rubbing your back comfortingly, prompting you to go on without actually asking you. You took in a shaky breath, thinking of everyone that was to blame for your misery.

“My mother”, you spat, “Akira, Kun-”

“Kun?”

Sucking in a breath, you nodded, “Kun. He-he knew. He knew and he still led me on, fuck I feel so stupid”, you laughed at the bitter irony, wiping away your tears, “And the thing is, the fact he did it hurts much more than anything else.”

“And why is that?”, Winter whispered.

“I trusted him”, you said, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would help somehow, “I liked him, I gave him my trust, even when it went past my duty.”

Duty, you were starting to realize, was slowly destroying you and everything you held dear.

Yuxi raised her hand so that the light fell on it, the pretty red nail paint glowing as she inspected it. Her right hand was a little messier than her left, she decided she would fix that later. Her hair was perfectly straightened, not a strand out of place, she looked perfect. Her appearance paired with her pretty airs and manners made her slightly intimidating, a little better than the rest.

Finishing school had been fruitful afterall.

Clicking her tongue, she dropped the act, sitting on her bed, hunched over her phone as she scrolled through her messages, catching up on whatever she was missing back home.

Truth was, she didn’t want to get on this cruise, none of the Qian siblings did. Spending time with their uncle? They hated the few dinners they had to tolerate anyways, but a whole three months? That sounded like torture, a torture they were enduring at the moment.

Akira had insisted, saying it would be a good experience for them now that they were adults, well, except Chenle. The boy was still sixteen, but was very much on their level. Their parents had unfortunately agreed, and so they found themselves where they were.

Kun walked through her door and into her room, pacing around, before taking a seat next to Yuxi and looking at her expectantly.

“What?”

“I fucked up”, he confessed. His sister wondered if he was waiting for her to ask the question just to dump that on her.

“Thank you for that eloquent explanation”, she said, “Mind telling me exactly how you did the fucking up?”

He sighed, running a hair through his hair as he leaned against the headrest and told his sister the whole story, from the arranged marriage (though she knew this), Akira’s plan and what he had done, to the kiss and you finding out. Yuxi listened intently, placing her phone aside as he went on.

Once he reached the end of all the events, Yuxi looked pensive, confused almost. “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do to fix this,” she said truthfully, “It’s royally fucked up and I don;t want to have anything to do with our uncle dear ever again.”

“You’re telling me”, Kun groaned, “I feel terrible, and I didn’t even do anything.”

“You did do something”, his sister said, walking to the little table and picking up her little bottle of nail paint, “You stayed silent.”

Winter burst into the kitchen, walking over to the drink area. She inspected them, figuring out which one was yours, and which one was Kun’s. Producing a small vial of some sort of liquid, she took the two drinks and placed them on the counter opposite, opening up the vial.

Guilt had been eating away at her for weeks now, especially when she realized that there might be more to the story than she thought. She had complied with your mothers orders, but now she didn’t care. 

Heesung walked into the room, “Idiot, what are you doing?”

Winter ignored him, putting a few drops in each glass and mixing them in. Heesung took the vial from her when she kept it down, inspecting it, “What is this?”

“Took it from the luggages”

“You stole? You could get fired!”

“I know that!” She snapped before sighing, “But I stole it from a criminal, so it’s even.”

Heesung raised an eyebrow, lowering his voice, “The Qians?”

Winter nodded, “A drug.”

The boy wondered if he should ask, if it was worth it to do so.  Winter took the glasses and placed them back on the tray, turning back to Heesung, pointing to them. “Kun and Y/n. These two glasses are for them.”

“Right. Why should I listen to you again when you’ve spiked their drinks?”

“Because”, she said, “What you’re holding is an infatuation drug.”

Heesung snorted, “So it’s a love potion? I knew you were a romantic Win, but you do know she’s marrying Mr. Akira right?”

“Not if I can help it”, the girl muttered, “She doesn’t deserve it, and is in love with someone else. And it’s not a love potion, it’s a drug.”

Rolling his eyes, the waiter picked up the tray of drinks, “So it’s a love shot then”, he asked, proud of his pun, “And I suppose you think it’s Mr Akira’s nephew?” Still, he pushed the two glasses a little away from each other so he remembered what he was instructed to do. He still thought it was ridiculous though.

“It is, she told me herself, well not that bluntly, but I know it.”

Heesung pinched the bridge of his nose, “And what if your meddling backfires?”

“Wouldn't change a thing., everything is fucked anyways”, she said, “I just want her to have one thing going right for her.”

Winter took the vial back, stuffing it into the pockets of her uniform and straightening out her apron. The smell of whatever was cooking wafted through the air as she composed herself again, “See you later Heesung, don’t mess up the drinks.”

Winter hoped her meddling would pay off

You walked into the dining hall, head held high as you made eye contact with the Qians. Akira gave you his sickly smile, Yuxi with her worried gaze and Chenle still oblivious. Kun looked confused as he watched you approach the table, taking the seat you usually did, before the entire truth came out.

Sitting down, your eyes flitted to Kun’s before you looked down at your lap, plastering on a fake smile and looking at Akira, greeting him.

“I take it you're better?” He asked this, leaning forward, “You must have been really sick, staying away for so many days. It's been a little over a week?”

You nodded, “Yes, I apologize for my absence.” You realized someone, probably Kun had covered for you. The waiter approached, handing everyone their respective drinks, before bowing and leaving.

You raised the glass to your lips, inspecting the table, eyes meeting Yuxi’s who averted her gaze immediately.

She knew too.

Suppressing a scoff, you decided to address the elephant in the room and announce what decision you had come to. You still weren;t completely happy, but it was better than nothing, and you had stood your ground against your mother, who finally agreed, albeit begrudgingly.

“I revoke our little arrangement Mr. Qian”, you said after clearing your throat. He raised an eyebrow at this, a sliver of panic visible in his eyes, “And why is that?”

“I know”

Those two words had held so much, his eyes widened as he stared at you dumbfounded. That dumbfounded expression morphed into one of misplaced anger. “You are not the one to say that.”

“Yes I am”, you said cooly, “I am the one getting married, well not anymore. My mother has agreed and I want nothing more to do with you.”

He clenched his jaw, visibly trying to control his anger. “A deal is a de-”

“Alright, I’ll tell you why you should agree”, you said with a mocking smile. Somewhere in the back of your mind you began to feel slightly drowsy, but you pushed it away, looking at Kun once more.

You didn’t want to look away.

The two of your eyes locked and it felt like you were falling. You could almost feel his lips on yours, his hands on your wait, the way he kissed you-

You snapped back to reality, looking away. 

“I have a message on the top of my fingers ready to be sent right now”, you said, “To the police about your little dealings and the fact that you killed my father”, the words rolled off your tongue easily, almost as if you were talking about something as mundane as the weather, “And then you’ll be ruined.”

Akira paled, and it was clear who held the ropes over the conversation now. You decided to give him proof, raising your hand that held your phone, finger hovering over a number.

“But this can be avoided! You see, just call off the deal”, you took another sip of whatever the waiter had given you, mind going ever so slightly fuzzy once again. “And I’ll keep silent. No one will ever know.”

He clicked his tongue, “You were my repayment.”

“I know, I was a prop hmm?”, you said, “Not anymore, call this off right now Akira.”

He sighed, as if he knew he had lost. There was no point in fighting anymore. “We’re done”, he said finally, and you smirked in triumph, taking another sip of your drink, “Thank you.”

Winter came around with the food, looking suspiciously at you and Kun, before walking away. You sighed, that feeling of blankness returning. You still had to deal with Kun, of course you did, but you didn’t want to do so now. That would make everything messy, but fuck, for some reason all you could think about was the way he kissed you.

This was bad. You had to stop.

You looked at your food, pushing it away and getting up, sighing, the adrenaline from confronting Akira. Did you expect to win? No, but now that you had, your head swam as you got to your feet, glancing at Winter, nodding your head slightly.

“Goodbye”, you said, “I have no business with you anymore.”

Leaving your dinner and the table, you walked into the hallways and sighed in relief. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders and you could finally breathe again. You made your way to your room, before stopping outside a door, freezing in your place.

That door led to the hall where you and Kun had that water balloon fight. You took a step towards it, placing your hand on the knob, but not opening it. You didn’t want to open it, just wanted to reminisce.

“Trying to run away from us? Or me? Because you’re still slow.”

You whipped your head around, meeting Kun’s gaze, “something like that.” Your voice was cautious as if you were walking on nails. As if you weren’t trying to not stare at his lips.

He leaned against the wall, staring at you as if he was trying to crack a code. His mind went fuzzy as well, the drug taking effect as it had for you. But both of you were fighting against it, desperate to win.

When did winning come at the cost of losing everything you loved?

Loved?

You bit your lower lip, averting your gaze. The tension in the room had risen tenfold, the way the two of you tried to navigate the gray area you had fallen into.You wondered why the world couldn’t be simple, black and white. Why couldn’t it be bad and good? Why did it have to be so complicated?

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. You snapped back to attention, forcing yourself to get out of your little headspace. Looking up, you met his eyes, and by god, you had never regretted doing anything more than that.

His eyes, they were dark,  voids of nothingness. They didn’t sparkle like they usually did, shining in the light. Instead they were like pools of ink, no light let in. Gone was the smirk you were so used to.

“I know”, you said simply, realizing it was true. You acknowledged the fact that he was sorry.

A bitter chuckle fell from his lips, “I hate myself for not telling you the moment I found out, but everything was so-”

“Messed up?” You finished his sentence, giving him a crooked smile, “Yeah, I get it. It’s all over now though”

“Over”, he repeated, “Right.”

Silence.

“I don’t want it to be over”

You looked at him, a sigh escaping you, “Kun-”

“You’re you, and I don’t want to lose you”, he said bluntly, “You can hate me-I hate myself, but I don't want it to be over.” You began to feel drowsy again, all you wanted to do was walk away and forget the past two months, because now you were attached. Emotionally.

“But I understand if you want nothing to do with us, with me-”

You took a step forward, leaning towards him and pressed your lips to his, mind going completely blank now. You wanted to melt into him, as he kissed you back in surprise, to forget.

You couldn’t do that.

He cupped your face, kissing you again. There it was that feeling, that feeling of drowning. Make it stop, stop, I want to breathe, you thought, before giving up. You liked the breathlessness, even if you tried not to.

Pulling away, you looked at him one last time, before pushing yourself off of him, away from the door that led into the hall, away from him. Kun watched you walk away, down the hallway, before you turned the corner.

And then you were gone.

You leaned against the railing of the deck, watching the water below you. The ripples were somewhat soothing, as you hummed an idle tune.

“Y/n Osaki”, you turned around to face the owner of the voice, Kun himself. He smiled taking position next to you, “Remember when I said I didn’t know who you were?”

You chuckled nodding, “Yeah.”

It had bewildered you at the time, the way he pretended he didn’t know who you were. Now you wished he really didn’t. That seemed so long ago.

It had been a week since the confrontation, a week since the last kiss. The effects of the infatuation drug had long worn off, but what was real was left behind. All the drug had done was amplify it. You didn’t see the Qian family much after it, making a point to avoid them. You didn’t have a reason to see them anyways, you were done.

Yet you still had unfinished business.

The cruise was coming to an end anyways, so what was even the point? Your life would go back to normal like nothing had happened, even though your world had been ripped apart and was holding itself together by threads.

Kun cleared his throat, “We need to talk.”

“We’re talking right now”, you said, avoiding the heavy meaning in his words. 

He sighed, letting it drop for a second before speaking up again, “I didn’t know myself until I asked Akira”, he said, not specifying what exactly he was talking about, but you already knew. “I asked him if you knew who he was and he told me the whole story, and I was….”, he trailed off, searching for the correct word, “horrified.”

“I believe you”, you said softly, “I’ve forgiven you.”

You haven’t forgotten though, you doubt you could ever forget something like this.

Kun didn’t know if that made him feel any better, but he knew he had to get it off his chest. He wondered how he could get you back. You seemed cold again, like the day he met you, closed off and wary of everything. You had a right to be, but he wanted the Y/n he had grown accustomed to, back.

“So”, he said, “Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth Bennet?”

“I thought we agreed on a truce?” You let a smile slip, amused. He grinned, “We did, but I have to know.”

You thought for a second, before inclining your head with a sheepish smile, “I’ll eat my words Qian Kun, Mr. Darcy has grown on me.”

“I’m glad. I won after all”, he said childishly, and you couldn’t help but scoff. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Why don’t I tell you something? Infact, I’ll say it in the words of Mr. Darcy himself”, he declared, “I found myself in this mess before I could do anything about it Y/n, and I can’t take what has happened. I cannot fix on the hour or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It was too long ago, I was in the middle before I knew it had begun.”

Your eyes softened as you shifted closer to him, meeting his own. Yours sparkled with mild amusement as you slipped your hand through his, “You do know that’s how Mr. Darcy tells Lizzy he loves her, right?”

“Is it?”, his eyes held the same mischievous glint yours did as he raised your held hands, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, “I suppose it’s fitting then.”

And then he kissed you properly, fingers intertwined, wind in your hair. 

Were you happy? Not entirely, not yet. You still had duty, you still had to bear the weight of your family name. You had to live with knowing your mother was responsible for your fathers demise, you had to keep it a secret for Shotaro. You had to be perfect.

No, you weren’t happy, but you were getting there.

fin.