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somenewsarah · 5 years ago

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Born to Wed

Summary: The Malfoys find a suitable wife for their son, Draco, and they experience Hogwarts together.

Words: 10.5K

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Requested: LOL I don’t get requests

Warnings: None

From the day you were born, your fate was decided. You, a Nott, were to be married to another Pureblood. You were to follow in your parents’ footsteps, study their sacrifices to the Dark Lord and learn from them. From the very day you were born, your life was planned for you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

A mere six weeks before your grand arrival, the Malfoy family was blessed with their own miracle. A boy, Draco Malfoy, who only weighed a whopping 7lbs and 7oz. He arrived with a thin layer of white-blond hair and the greyest eyes that his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, had ever laid her own brown eyes on.

At the announcement of your arrival, Lucius Malfoy had appeared at your father’s doorstep and the deal was done. You, only two hours old, were to marry the six-week-old Draco Malfoy when you were both of age.

Year One

During your first year of Hogwarts, you and Draco had played the part well. You pretended not to really know each other, though of course you were both sorted into the Slytherin house before the hat could even touch your head. You’d made sure to keep space between the two of you, not condoning his constant bullying of Harry Potter and the Weasley family.

At Christmas, the two of you again played the part well. As your two families joined together as they had for the past eleven years for dinner, Draco squeezed himself into the seat next to you, having just slicked back his hair.

“We don’t have to be friends at school, but we have to be friends here,” he murmurs to you. You nod, giving him a small smile.

“I know, Draco. Don’t worry. We won’t disappoint them.”

He gives you a curt nod, and the conversation is cut short by your parents entering the dining room. Narcissa’s smile is pleasant as she studies the two of you, seemingly caught in a private conversation. If only they knew.

You made it through dinner with no casualties. Your father and Mr. Malfoy excused themselves to the parlor, where they were to drink firewhiskey and talk business, while your mother and Mrs. Malfoy cleared the table for the house elves to keep themselves busy. The two women shooed you and Draco upstairs.

Once making it to your room, you closed the door and sighed.

“I didn’t think that went too horrid,” Draco comments.

“It didn’t,” you agree. You flop onto your bed, scooting back to sit against the headboard. You motion for Draco to sit on the end of the bed.

“I suppose if I have to marry you in the coming years, it wouldn’t hurt for us to be friends.”

“Don’t be daft,” you comment quietly. “You’re foul. I hear the way you treat that Potter boy. There is no way I’d be friends with you.”

“This is the way Father expects me to be, Y/N. So, it is the way I am,” he huffs. You only shrug in response. How could your parents expect you to ever be happy with someone as foul as Draco Malfoy?

It’d been a long year. You had served your fair share of detentions for trying to keep Draco out of trouble, only landing yourself in bigger trouble. You avoided him at all costs, but he was really giving himself a reputation as a foul troublemaker that no one wanted to associate with, well, other than Crabbe and Goyle.

Year Two

The summer had done marvelous things for you, such as finding a new love for Charms and creatures of the Forbidden Forest. You’d spent the summer reading, avoiding your parents as much as possible, though it didn’t save you from the weekly dinners with the Malfoys. They seemed to shove you and Draco together as much as possible. It was almost like they were testing you, seeing if they could get you two to fall in love so they wouldn’t feel so bad about planning each of your lives around the other. No matter how hard they tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything other than foul about Draco Malfoy.

Still, here you sat next to him in the Great Hall, watching Pansy Parkinson fawn all over him as if he were the next ‘Great Coming.’ An unwelcomed pang of jealousy rolls in your stomach, but you swallow it, choosing to ignore it instead.

He slowly pulled his arms from Pansy’s grasps, pushing her away slightly.

“Troll! There’s a troll in the dungeons!” Professor Quirrell announces. He stops running for a moment in the middle of the Great Hall and faints, landing on the floor with a thud. Screams erupt from the Hall as students panic from the troll.

“Y/N, come on,” Draco says. He grabs your hand, pulling you, his future wife, with him to the corridor. His fingers grasp yours as he runs, you in tow.

“Draco, slow down,” you beg.

“I can’t, we have to get to the Common Room!”

And so, you run with him, huffing as you turn almost every corner you could think to turn. When you finally reach the Common Room, you are the first ones there. He utters the password and pulls you inside.

Draco was slowly becoming your best friend. And you resented that with every fiber of your being. He was crude and cold, yet when you were alone with him, he was very attentive, maybe even caring. At this moment, you sat cross-legged on his bed in his dormitory, watching his eyes scan a letter that was addressed to the both of you.

“What does it say?” You ask, trying to get a small peak at it.

“Hold on,” he mumbles, his eyes glued to the letter.

“Draco, let me see,” you whine.

“I said hold on!”

You pout, but cross your arms, resting your elbows on your knees.

“It’s your mum, Y/N,” Draco says, slowly looking up at you. Your head twists to the side as you watch him, trying to decipher what exactly he was saying. “She’s really ill. She’s at St. Mungo’s right now, and the healers are doing everything they can. Father says he’ll let us know more when they know.”

“What?” You ask, your heart falling to your stomach. You snatch the letter from his hands, your eyes scanning it quickly, reading about your mother’s supposed fate. “Draco, what… what does that mean?”

Draco sighs. He scoots next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You rest your head against his chest as you wrap your arms around your legs.

“Is she going to die?” You whisper, your eyes trained on the flames that burned in the hearth across from his bed.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Christmas was dismal, to say the least. There was no change to your mother. She wasn’t the same, either. Not when you went to visit to her, and certainly not when you left. The healers worked diligently, day and night, trying to find exactly what was wrong with her, but to no avail.

“Y/N, Christmas won’t be the same this year. I’m sorry,” your father drawls. He takes another drunken sip of his firewhiskey and leans back in his recliner, his breathing heavy and his eyes glazed.

Instead of staying home, you use the Floo Network to the Malfoy’s. It was Christmas morning, but from all your previous experiences, you knew they would be awake and in full swing. Draco always demanded the best of the best, and he wouldn’t rest until he got it.

You weren’t wrong. Draco sat on the floor, his black pajamas a drastic contrast to his light hair and pale skin, the Christmas tree illuminating his skin. Lucius and Narcissa sat perched on the couch, their backs straight and stiff as boards.

“Y/N, hello,” Narcissa smiles. Draco smiles, too, but Lucius does not. “Happy Christmas. You have some presents under the tree as well, of course.”

“Happy Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Draco,” you smile. You place yourself on the floor next to Draco, giving him your warmest smile.

“How is your mother, pray tell?” Lucius asks, his voice cold and hard as always.

“Not well, Sir. No change.” You clasp your hands together in your lap and stare at your fingers as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“We’ll make sure to drop by and visit,” Narcissa promises.

The Malfoys, well, Draco, may not have been who you ever envisioned you’d one day end up marrying, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Year Three

It was on the train ride back to Hogwarts that the Hufflepuff boy first noticed you. You’d bumped into him as you were searching for an empty compartment, completely oblivious to the other students rushing towards you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, your mind jumbled with thoughts of your mum and what the year would hold and all the news about Sirius Black.

“No, no, please don’t apologize. It was my mistake,” he says, staring down at you. “I’m Cedric.”

Your heart clenched at his bright eyes and that smile with his head tilted to the side. You look between his outstretched hand and his eyes.

“Y/N,” you smile.

The moment your hand connects with his, the lights on the train flicker out. An audible gasp escapes your lips as Cedric grasps your shoulders and pushes you into an empty compartment. He pokes his head out, watching as the windows frost in the compartment across from yours.

“What’s happening?” You whisper. He shakes his head, about as dumbfounded as you. You keep quiet, trying to peak around his shoulder. The compartment doors suddenly become chillier and chillier, and Cedric quickly slams the door shut.

“Dementors,” he whispers.

That year, the castle was guarded by dementors from Azkaban. You studied hard, making it your mission to be the top in your class at Potions and Charms, and you succeeded well, thanks to Cedric and his tutoring. You kept your distance from Draco, as he didn’t like the idea of you fancying a Hufflepuff boy. You two had many arguments throughout the first term, and you weren’t looking forward to Christmas.

At this very moment, Draco stands in front of you in his room at Malfoy Manor, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze cold and hard.

“Draco, all I need is for you to cover for me. Please.”

“Why would I protect you? You chose the Diggory boy,” he spits.

“I really like him, Draco. I thought at least you’d understand,” you sigh. “I know this would worry Father and mum isn’t getting any better. I wanted to tell her first and then tell everyone else. Why are you so against it?”

He bows his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y/N, our parents made the Unbreakable Vow on our behalf. We are to be married after Hogwarts. How am I supposed to marry you if you’re off fancying another lad?” Draco says, exasperated. He crosses his arms, marching up and down his bedroom, stroking his chin. His eyes dart, his lips pursed in a way that made your stomach roll.

“Dray,” you sigh, clambering to your knees. You reach out, grabbing his arm to stop his pacing. His gaze meets yours and he lets out a breath you weren’t aware he was holding in. “I didn’t choose Cedric. He chose me.”

At the end of Christmas break, you return to Hogwarts. The air has shifted and all feels right for once. Draco agreed to cover for you with your parents, but with your mother’s worsening condition, you were beginning to wonder if he would even need to. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

You spent every moment you could with Cedric. What started as innocent smiles and playful shoves turned into desperate hands and wandering lips; neck kisses that left bruises and heavy breathing in broom closets. Cedric was your buoy in a stormy sea and there was nothing you would not do for the Hufflepuff boy, and nothing he would not do for you.

Year Four

Your eyes are glazed over as you tune out Dumbledore’s droning on and on about the Triwizard Tournament. It meant nothing to you. There was no way you could ever experience eternal fame and glory- your fate was decided the moment you took your first breath.

Your chin rests flimsily in your hand, your head lolling onto Draco’s shoulder. The nights were growing longer by the day as the Dark Lord was sure to make his arrival known soon, though you and Draco were too young to be Death Eaters. You’d surely heard the hushed whispers at Malfoy Manor and witnessed some strange beings crawling about the house at all hours.

“This doesn’t matter,” you whisper to Draco as the two new houses began to introduce themselves.

But oh, did it. One minute everything feels okay, and the next, you’re standing in Cedric’s dorm, begging him to change his mind about the tournament.

“Cedric, you don’t need eternal fame or glory! Please, it’s too dangerous,” you beg, your eyes watering and your lip quivering as you tried to hold in all of your fear about the upcoming challenges.

“My love, everything will be fine,” he says, his eyes searching yours. His hands fall on your hips as he envelops you. “I promise, everything will be fine.”

Everything wasn’t fine. Cedric was chosen to participate in the tournament. You stood, cheering for him as any supportive girlfriend would when his name was announced, but deep down, you were holding back bile.

“He’ll be fine, right?” You ask Draco.

“Possibly,” he retorts, his face already bored of the tournament.

You sit down once more, your eyes darting between the room Cedric disappeared into and Draco.

“What?” You ask, your eyes scanning the letter your father had sent. Most of it was nonsense, gibberish, drunkenly written in such a way that you likely had to be drunk to understand it. “Draco, what does this say?”

You pulled his duvet around your small frame as he takes the letter from your hands. His eyebrows scrunch as he reads it, but his face falls.

“Y/N… It’s your mum. She’s passed.”

Your breathing hitches in your throat, and you wrap the duvet tighter around you, taking comfort in the smell of your future husband’s cologne. You bury your face in the fabric, the cotton kissing your skin like a homely hug. How could she really be gone? Did she stop fighting? Impossible. Your mum was the hardest fighter you knew.

Suddenly, Draco was beside you, scooping you into his arms and holding you in his lap. You laid your head on his shoulder as silent tears fell from your eyes. You knew she couldn’t fight forever; it’d only been a matter of time before she died. And that time had come.

The first task came quickly, and you paced nervously outside the tent Cedric was being held in. When he finally walked out, you wrapped him in the tightest hug you’d ever held him in.

“My love, what’s wrong?” He asked, pulling back to study your face. He knew all about your mum, but right now you were worried for him.

“Nothing. Just… do great, okay?”

He smiles at you, leaning down to leave a chaste but loving kiss on your mouth.

“Y/N?” He asks, gazing down at you. You quirk an eyebrow at him, a small grin forming on your lips. “I love you. Don’t worry about me.”

And just like that, the Hufflepuff boy had knocked the wind out of you once again. An ear-splitting grin fell on your lips and jumped into his arms once again.

“I love you, too, Ced. Please be careful.”

“Always, love,” he smiles. He sets you down. “Go find a seat with Draco, I’ll see you afterwards.”

You oblige, running off with the biggest grin on your face. You dodge Draco’s questioning glances and settle into your seat, waiting on the tournament to officially begin.

The celebrations after the first task were unmatched. It seemed everyone wanted a word with Cedric regarding his clever use of magic to not only defeat the dragon, but to obtain the golden egg as well.

He holds the egg over his head, cheering in the Hufflepuff common room as his fellow housemates cheer for and with him. He gives you his biggest grin and your heart melts. You’d never been prouder of someone.

“You were amazing,” you gush for the millionth time. Cedric kisses you soft and slowly, one arm wrapped around you, the other wrapped around the golden egg. The Hufflepuffs cheer as they watch, not one person interrupting.

“I love you so much,” he says again. You don’t think you could ever get tired of hearing it.

Draco stares at the lake, then at the empty seat next to him, then at Cedric, then back to the lake. You are supposed to be here already, sitting with him, ready to watch the second task, but you aren’t.

The news from the previous night was news he wasn’t sure if he would share with you or not. The Dark Lord is going to return on the night of the third task, and Draco knew he would make a show of it. With Cedric being in the tournament, he thought it best not to tell you. Surely Cedric wouldn’t be harmed, right?

Cedric readies himself, then dives into the lake. He can’t shake off the hurt that you aren’t there, cheering him on from the stands. It’s rather selfish of him to be upset though, since you have been dealing with the death of your mother. He knows you put on a brave face for him, but he knows.

He listens for the mermaids, using their voices as a guiding beacon of hope, though for what he doesn’t know. He swims deeper, weaving his way through the long kelp and fish that obstruct his view. And then he sees you.

Draco sighs heavily, almost ready to get up and leave. He’s grown bored of the tournament, as there always seems to be bigger things to worry about. Just as he’s standing to leave, a loud cheer erupts from the crowd. Cedric has surfaced, Y/N in tow. Before Draco knows it, he’s breathing again, and is halfway jogging to you. He watches as a towel is handed to you.

Cedric wraps you up in a hug, kissing the top of your head. Your heart swims. You’ll love this boy forever.

The third task comes, and Cedric and Harry Potter are tied for first place. Your nerves eat at you as you watch him out on the Quidditch Pitch, about to enter the maze. Draco seems just as nervous as you, but says nothing.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, looking over at him.

“Nothing,” he says. He doesn’t meet your gaze, and you know it’s something bad.

“Draco, please don’t keep it from me. You know you can tell me whatever is bothering you,” you push.

“He’s back,” Draco whispers. Your heart stops. “And he’s here. Tonight.”

“Cedric,” you whisper. You stand, but Draco pulls you back down. “No. What is he planning? Do you know? Draco, why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve told me so Cedric could’ve blown the competition, Draco please…”

“I don’t know anything,” he says hurriedly. “I just know he’s back and he’s making a show of it tonight.”

For the next half hour, your leg bounces. You gnaw at your lip. Your mind is in shambles, your heart torn. Draco squeezes your hand tightly between both of his, bringing it to your lips to kiss it softly. He was your husband-to-be, after all.

Murmurs break out amongst the crowd. You stand, sighing as Fleur is escorted out of the maze, followed by Viktor. Still no sign of your Hufflepuff boy.

“Draco,” you whisper. “Is he going to be okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he says, looking over at you. You nod- you can understand his reasoning, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. “No matter what, I’m here, alright?”

“I know,” you say once, louder than before. “He’ll be fine. It’s Ced. He’ll be perfectly fine.”

Suddenly, Harry Potter emerges from the maze, the Goblet in his hand. Cheers break out among the crowd as the Gryffindor House claims their victory. You try to cheer along, but your eyes narrow as Harry falls to his knees. You see the streak of yellow, and your heart stops.

“Cedric,” you whisper again. “Cedric… no, no no. No. Not Cedric, please not Cedric!”

The people around you stare, but you don’t care. You push past them, dropping Draco’s hand as you make your way down the stairs of the tower and onto the pitch.

“That’s my son!” Amos Diggory cries out, trying to break through the crowd. You beat him to Cedric’s body and before you know it, you fling yourself onto him, holding his head against your chest.

“I tried to save him, I tried,” Harry cries, a handful of Cedric’s jersey between his fingers.

The tears fall from your cheeks and onto Cedric’s. You lean down, kissing his forehead repeatedly as you close his eyes. Hugging him close, the world around you seems to stop. He was supposed to be with you forever.

“I love you so much… Please come back to me, Cedric,” you whisper in his ear through your own sobs. Your breathing catches in your throat and you hiccup.

Arms are around you and you’re lifted off his body. You know who it is before you even turn.

“Draco, please no,” you sob, reaching for Cedric. Dumbledore drapes a Hufflepuff blanket over his lifeless body, and all your strength leaves you. Your knees give out and you slide down Draco’s body, hitting your knees, your heart hurting more than it ever had. “Draco, please,” you beg, but you aren’t sure what you’re begging for.

You watch from the ground as Harry is escorted off the field, and Cedric is carried away.

Draco picks you up, cradling you to his chest, shielding you from the grieving students and parents who begin to mourn Cedric. First your mother, now the first boy you had ever truly loved.

It’s been three days since Cedric died. You wear his Quidditch jersey every night for bed, and sometimes his tshirts under your robes. You didn’t care that people thought you were mental, or delusional. It made you feel closer to him.

“Come on, love,” Draco says, lifting you from his bed at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa insists that you stay with them throughout the summer. Your father’s mental state had progressively worsened since the passing of your mother, and he’s become the worst version of himself.

You wrap your arms around Draco’s neck as he carries you into his bathroom. The water is already running, and bubbles are foaming.

“I’ll give you some privacy. Call if you need me,” he says. He kisses your head once after he sets you down, and you give yourself a minute to breathe before slowly peeling your clothes off and sitting in the warm water.

Year Five

Meetings. Every single day. Just meetings. Secret meetings. Hushed meetings. Malfoy Manor booms in a way you never thought possible. Death Eaters in and out, your own father in and out, all with one common goal. It’d been a long summer, and though Cedric stayed on your mind, the healing process began and you were learning to move on.

Draco keeps you away from the chaos as best he can. Today in particular, the two of you enjoy a picnic in a field of sun-facing sunflowers, just before the peak of dawn. He’d gone all out, packing strawberries and biscuits, an assortment of your favorite teas, some pumpkin pasties that you love.

“You didn’t have to do all of this,” you smile, flopping back on the picnic blanket.

“I did,” he chuckles. “Another ridiculous meeting, another ridiculous group of people sitting in the parlor.”

“Still,” you shrug. You take a strawberry from the basket and take a bite. Draco watches your mouth, his heart jumping in a way it never had before. He looks away from you, instead lying next to you, his head just inches from yours.

“Could I ask you a question?” he asks. You tilt your head, looking over at him.

“Of course you can, Dray.”

“You loved Cedric, right?”

“Yeah. I did,” you sigh, your heart aching. You gaze at the sky, taking in the clouds that seem to form so quickly.

“What did that feel like?”

“Why do you ask?” You ask, leaning up on your elbow. You gaze down at him, studying the curves and shadows of his face.

“No reason. Just curious,” he says, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, laying back down. “I suppose it’s something like an infatuation. I was at my happiest when I was with him. I could talk with him about the things on my mind, and he did the same for me. I suppose it felt like being with my best friend.”

“I thought I was your best friend?” Draco jokes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snort. You both grow quiet. “I guess you are.”

“Does that mean being Mrs. Malfoy won’t be terrible?”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” you giggle. You turn on your side, your eyes traveling over Draco’s features. Your breath hitches in your throat for the first time since seeing your Hufflepuff boy on the Hogwarts Express, and your heart races in a way that’s unfamiliar.

Draco looks over to you, his eyes locking with yours. No words are spoken; you just gaze at each other. You notice the way the blue in his eyes streaks between the clouds of grey, and he notices the gold flecks in yours. For the first time since you’d met Draco, you finally felt the spark your parents had been pushing you to have.

“Y/N, we should join,” Draco insists, holding the Inquisitorial Squad flyer out in front of the both of you.

“Why would we do that? Seems daft,” you dismiss him, turning your eyes back to your Potions book.

“Because, it’d be a way to get insight into the Ministry for Father. I’m joining. Are you with me?”

You set your book down, your eyes narrowing to slits as you stare over at Draco. You sigh, then nod. “Alright, alright. If it makes you happy.”

Draco smiles his broad smile- the one he saves for you- and gives you a light kiss on your cheek. Your returning grin is unmatched as you fight to regain focus on your book, trying to knock some homework out before the end of the night, but your heart skips a beat the way it does when Draco is around, and you give up.

“Thank you,” he says in his small voice, resting his elbows on either side of your hips, pinning you to the plush chair in the Common Room.

“Yeah, yeah,” you laugh. You make a show of pushing him off you.

“Get a room,” Pansy sneers. “The Common Room is supposed to be a comfortable place, not one that makes me gag.”

Your eyes roll farther in your head than ever before, and you give Draco the ‘look.’ The look that says: ‘Say something or I will.’

“Bugger off, Pansy,” Draco says. He waves her away with his hand, turning his attention back to you. You raise an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, picking your book up and placing it in your bag. “I’m going to the library to study. Sign us up for that Squad, or whatever.”

“Inquisitorial Squad,” he corrects. He stands, watching as you leave.

A badge is pinned to your robes by that grubby Umbridge woman.

“Now, the Inquisitorial Squad is upon one of the highest honors a student at Hogwarts can achieve. As we all know, it is impossible for myself and Mr. Filch to be everywhere at once, so we’re counting on you to report back to me with wrongdoings of other students,” she chirps. She hands each student a notebook. The front page of the notebook breaks down the demerit system. The following pages are specialized to match the crime, the student’s name, and their house. “Wrongdoings should be recorded properly each day, and at the end of the night watches, we will reconvene and punishments will be made. Does everybody understand?”

“Yes Professor,” you drone. You inwardly roll your eyes. What has Draco gotten you into?

The first night of the Inquisitorial Squad rotation comes, and you’re roaming the halls with Draco past bedtime, looking for any students out of bed.

“Why don’t we patrol through the Gryffindor Tower? Potter and his friends are always roaming about the castle at night,” Draco spits.

“Or we could go towards the kitchen? Most Hufflepuffs sneak out past bedtime to stock their rooms with snacks,” you shrug.

“How do you know that?” Draco asks, looking over at you.

Your heart stops for a minute, and that familiar pain is fleeting as you feel the pang before he goes. “Something Cedric told me.”

Draco looks at you apologetically. He grabs your hand in his own, squeezing your fingers gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- sometimes I forget that Ced- I- I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Dray. Really,” you say, keeping your eyes cast downwards. “It comes and goes, but I think for the most part I’m okay. Cedric was the first boy I ever loved, and his death was cruel and unfair. No one even believes that he’s back, not even the Ministry- the people who are supposed to be protecting us. He died for nothing.”

Draco stops the two of you, and he turns you towards him, holding onto your shoulders.

“Cedric didn’t die for nothing, Y/N. We’ll make sure of that.”

“But how? We’re working for a woman who believes that the Minister is right and Harry is wrong when you know he’s right, Draco. There’s no way for us to prove it.”

“Do you trust me?”

“What?” You tilt your head, confused. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Y/N, do you trust me?” He asks again, his eyes boring into yours.

“Draco- I… Yes.”

“Alright, that’s all I needed to know,” he says. He strides forward, pulling you with him.

“Keep watch,” Draco insists. His obsession with Harry Potter is officially out of hand, but you huff and do as asked, peaking your head out from the corridor.

“This is ridiculous,” you say.

“Shh,” he snaps. He places his hand on your lower back, anchoring you to the wall in front of him. “You know Potter and his gang are in there, it’s just a matter of time before we catch them. We need to do this, Y/N.”

“Fine,” you sigh. Chills run down your spine as you feel his warm breath on your neck. You didn’t know why he needed to be so close to you- you were standing in a wide-open corridor that no one ever used. Well, no one except Harry Potter, apparently.

Draco eyes the skin on your neck, the silver locket placed around it glimmers in the dull light, enticing him. He feels your shallow breathing against his hand on your back, but he doesn’t act upon his urges.

You turn your head, looking at him over your shoulder when you realize just how close his face is to yours. Your eyes dart to his lips, then back to his stormy eyes, his doing the same. Your heart races in your chest, and your breathing is shallow and stuck in your throat. Just as he’s leaning in, the door at the end of the corridor appears, and Harry Potter himself exits.

His eyes are wide as he takes in the scene of you and Draco- not that he should be shocked. Everyone knew of your situation.

“Potter,” Draco spits. He adjusts the sleeves of his button-down shirt and stalks towards him, and although he looks rather unaffected by the moment between the two of you, his cheeks are tinted pink.

“Malfoy,” Harry spits back. “Nott.”

“Harry,” you say quietly, joining Draco. “We’re here to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?”

“The Inquisitorial Squad,” Draco says, sounding rather bored. “They know you and your lot have been having secret meetings.”

“I suppose you’re the one who told them, yeah?” Harry bites.

“Harry,” you say, looking up at him. “I know you and Draco have your differences, but listen to me. They’re onto you, and they’re coming to bust you. They know you’ve been meeting here, they’ve been watching you for weeks now. I don’t know what’s going on, but you haven’t made it too difficult to figure it out, and they think they have. Tomorrow afternoon, at your two o’clock meeting, they’re going to try and stop it.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Draco looks over at you. “I won’t let Cedric die in vain. And if that means going against what everyone expects of me, I’ll do it.”

“Joining the good side, are you, Malfoy?” Harry mocks. You roll your eyes.

“Seriously? Can you both just stop it for five minutes?”

“I don’t believe you,” Harry says. He stalks past you, leaving you both dumbfounded. You look up at Draco, him down at you.

“I don’t know what else we can do, then,” he shrugs. You sigh, but you understand.

“Maybe after tomorrow he’ll believe us.”

Harry believed you, alright. Right after the Inquisitorial Squad, minus you and Draco, busted Dumbledore’s Army, Hermione Granger somehow got rid of Umbridge in the most ladylike way imaginable.

“That was something,” you say that night, sitting in the Great Hall.

“Can’t say we didn’t warn him,” Draco laughs, his snotty bite coming back into his voice. He picks at the badge on his robes, picking yours off as well. “Next time I try to help, just tell me to stop.”

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Year Six

The Malfoy Manor was darker and gloomier than ever. Voldemort was back, and was back with a vengeance.

“Draco?” You ask, rolling over on your back to look at him. The sunflowers had long since died, but you two still came to the field to get away from the overbearing looks of expectance from his parents, from your father, and all the death eaters around you.

“Yes?”

“How do you think this is going to end?”

Draco looks over at you. He rests his cheek in his palm, supporting himself on his elbows. “I honestly don’t know. Why?”

“I don’t feel safe,” you confess, watching the grey clouds as they take over the sky. You finally meet his gaze. His eyes are soft, his eyebrows pulled together. He reaches out and tucks a wild strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispers. He wraps his arm around your head and pulls you close to him. You breathe him in, your forehead resting in the crook of his neck as he holds you. You feel his fingertips trail the length of your arm, and you sigh.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Don’t you see, Y/N? You’re everything to me,” he whispers. He leans down, kissing your forehead so softly you wonder if he even did it. Your heart does flips inside your chest, and you bite your lip as you look up at him.

“This is going to be a hard year, isn’t it?”

Draco nods sadly, looking down at you. His nose brushes against your cheek as he rests his forehead atop yours.

With all your strength, you caress his cheek. You lean up, and for the first time, his lips meet your own. Your world stops spinning at the feeling of his gentle lips. His left hand moves from your neck to tangle in your hair, his right holding you by your back. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Draco rolls you onto your back, his lips locked with your own. You tug at the ends of his hair, your body arching into his.

At last, your body began to protest, and you both pull away.

“Y/N,” he whispers, trailing his fingers through the stray hairs on your forehead. You gaze up at him, studying the shadows his nose makes on his chiseled face, and the way his blond hair makes your heart jump when it’s flipped in his forehead the way it is right now.

“Hm?”

“Do you think you could ever love me the way you loved Cedric?” His voice is so small, you’re sure you misunderstood him. Your heart aches in a different way, and you avert your gaze, his own becoming too intense for you to stare into for much longer.

“Draco,” you start, but he rolls off you and onto his back, covering his eyes with his arms, shielding them from a sun that isn’t there.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he says flatly.

“No, that’s not what I- “

“I get it. It’s alright.”

“Draco,” you demand, finally sitting up fully and demanding his attention. You rip his arms from his face so he must look at you. “That’s not what I was going to say. Are you going to let me explain, or are you going to continue to be a prat?”

Draco’s jaw clenches, but he mutters an “if you must.”

“I must,” you say sweetly. You take a deep breath, your fingers wringing together. “I loved Cedric in a way that I never really understood until lately. It was more than just puppy love, but it was less than an unconditional love, if that makes sense. Cedric taught me a lot about love, yes. He showed me how to express myself, and that it’s okay to make mistakes. His loyalty never faltered from me- he showed me what I deserve. Cedric made my heart race, he made my palms sweaty. He made me feel giddy,” you say, keeping your eyes low.

“Go on,” Draco encourages, now sitting up fully as well, watching you unfold before him.

“But you… Draco, you make me feel safe. You make me feel like I could jump from the Astronomy Tower and you’d still be there to catch me. You make me laugh, you challenge me in ways I’ve never been challenged before. And even though sometimes you’re absolutely foul and loathsome, you still look out for me. I’ll never be able to repay you for last year, when you warned Harry with me about the Inquisitorial Squad.”

“I did that for you, not for Potter,” he says quickly.

“I know. And it’s one of the thousands of reasons that I am in love with you,” you say. Your eyes finally meet his. They’re wide and grey and beautiful and looking at you like you are the most precious thing in the world. “I don’t love you the same way that I loved Cedric, and I probably never will. But I love you in a way that is our own, in an unconditional way that cannot falter. I’m in love with you, Draco Malfoy, because before my mother died, she told me to watch for the man that made me feel exactly the way you make me feel, the same way my father made her feel.”

“Y/N,” Draco starts, reaching out to you.

“I’m not finished,” you say, pulling back from him. “It wasn’t both of our parents that made the Unbreakable Vow. It was our mothers. The vow was broken when my mother died. Draco, if I didn’t want to be with you, I wouldn’t be. It’s our choice now, whether we are to marry or not. And if you don’t want to marry me, well, I guess I could understand that. But I still choose you, and I will always choose you, for the way that you’ve always chosen me.”

“May I?” he asks, reaching for your hand. You nod once.

“Y/N, I’ve been in love with you for I don’t know how long. I realized it the day of the second task. When Cedric pulled you from the water, I could breathe again, and I didn’t even know you were down there. You never need to worry about me not choosing you. You are my only choice. My only one,” he says, looking through you it felt like.

You sigh, moving into his arms once again. You rest your head against his chest, and his arms hold you tightly. He kisses your hair softly, resting his cheek in your locks.

Dinner wasn’t what you expected it to be. Narcissa was quieter than she usually was, Lucius was ghostly white. Even your father hadn’t touched his own drink all night. Something was going on.

“Draco, Y/N, a word,” Lucius says quietly. He rises from the table, excusing himself into the parlor, where all meetings were had. You and Draco share a look before you stand. He grabs your hand as you walk into the parlor.

“Father, what is it?”

“Sit,” he commands. You and Draco both sink into the couch, and Draco’s hands cover your own, trying to stop their trembling. “The Dark Lord has requested you both be at the next meeting. He has an assignment for the both of you.”

“I thought we weren’t to be tied up in this?” Draco asks, now leaning forward a bit.

“We were promised immunity for the both of you if we remained loyal. We have, but the Dark Lord has thought otherwise. You are to both be at the meeting, no questions asked.”

You nod, staring down at your fingers as you finally understand what this means. Loyalty to Voldemort. The dark mark. Death eaters.

That night, you stay at the Malfoy Manor in favor of returning home with your passively drunk father. You toss and turn in the guest room where you usually stay, finding the bed to be less than comfortable, less than warm. When you’ve finally had enough, you kick your feet from under the covers and pad to the door, stepping into the hallway quietly.

You weave your way through the manor until you come to the familiar brown door. You knock once, but there’s no answer. You push it open quietly and enter, closing it behind you. Draco’s light snores fill the room. His head is shoved into the pillow, his blond hair flopping into his eyes. You smile to yourself, memorizing the moment in your head.

A cool gust of wind blows through his open window, and you shiver once. It’s the only push you need to crawl into the bed with Draco, just like you’d done hundreds of times before. This time felt different, though. His bed not only brought comfort, but you finally felt at home. Safe and warm and home. You wrap the covers around your body and lay on your side, facing the door you’d walked through.

Draco stirs once, but doesn’t wake up. He turns, wrapping his arm around your body, his lips nipping at your shoulder. He settles again, snoring quieter this time. You sigh and snuggle deeper into his arms, finding solace in his warmth.

Everything about the room was just a little duller than usual. The lighting was a little bit dimmer, the stone walls were a bit darker, the room was a bit colder. You sit at the table, Draco on your right, your father on your left. Draco’s fingers are warm around your own hand, despite his shivering. He fights to keep still in his black tux, which you thought he’d look very handsome in on any normal day.

“Welcome,” Voldemort says in his gravelly voice. The meeting kicks off, the first one with the two new people. It’s mildly uneventful, and he mostly goes over business and plans. Finally, he dismisses everyone except you and Draco. Your breathing is hollow, and you cling to Draco.

“Ah, the young couple,” Voldemort says. “I have a special task just for you. You see, with you two still being students at Hogwarts, you’re able to get closer to some powerful wizards than I,” he gestures to a werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, standing by the door. “My dear friend Greyback will take you to Borgin and Burkes tomorrow, and you will begin your task. I want Dumbledore dead. And I want Death Eaters spreading our message all over Hogwarts, and it’s your job to get them there.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, and you look over at Draco, who looks cold and white as marble.

“Here you go, dear,” Narcissa says. She places a small cup of tea in front of you, then sits next to you, rubbing your back softly. “I know this is difficult, and I’m sorry we couldn’t keep you and Draco from this.”

You sip your tea gratefully. “I know. It’s not your fault, though.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be paying for my husband’s mistakes.”

“We’ll do what we have to do,” you say, offering her a small smile.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course,” you say, setting your teacup down.

“Draco will do anything to keep you safe. Anything. I see the way he looks at you. Like you’re his most prized possession. Almost like you’re so delicate that you’ll disintegrate if he isn’t there to hold onto you,” she says, half of a smile on her lips.

“What would you like me to do?”

“Show him how strong you are. Show him how brave you are. I think knowing that you can handle yourself if needed will give him some peace of mind. But please be careful doing it. I can’t imagine what losing you would do to Draco.” Narcissa looks at you, a fond smile on her face. “He loves you more than I could’ve ever imagined. And I’m so glad that it’s you.”

You can’t help your returning grin. “I will, I promise. I love him, too.”

“I know you do. You’re already family. We’ll protect you just as much as we protect him.”

You take Narcissa’s words to heart. That year, you spend the entire first half learning to hide your dark mark with a new wardrobe, and you spend all your free time with Draco in the Room of Requirement, trying to fix the Vanishing Cabinet.

“I’m working with Flitwick on some charms that are a bit more advanced for repairing than this, but it’ll take some time,” you say, flopping down on the dust-covered floor.

“How are you getting him to teach you such advanced magic?”

“I told him I’m trying to fix some of my mum’s things. I brought one of her old mirrors to practice on. We’ve been trying to repair it, but Narcissa placed an irreparable charm on it. When she thinks I’m ready, she’ll remove the charm.”

Draco smiles softly at you, holding your chin in his palm. “You are so incredibly smart, my love. And talented.” You watch the tears fill his eyes.

“Draco, we can do this. I know we can,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him.

“I know we can. But I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be forever known as the guy who killed Albus Dumbledore,” he says, his voice cracking. He wipes at his eyes once, and you try your hardest to hold it together for him.

“If it comes down to it, I’ll use your wand to do it. No one will ever have to know, alright?”

“I wouldn’t let you do that, Y/N.”

“Draco, do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. That’s all I needed to hear.”

You walk out of Dumbledore’s office feeling hopeful. You’d told him everything, from trying to curse him with the necklace that accidentally cursed Katie Bell, to the rum. To your surprise, he’d known everything. All of it. He’d known all along that you and Draco were tasked to do this. And he had a plan that he wouldn’t disclose with you, because the less you knew the better.

You walk towards the Great Hall, your stomach grumbling for the first time since you’d gotten the task, when you heard a strangled cry. You stop in front of the boys’ lavatories and look down, noticing that you were standing in a puddle of water.

Quickly, you walk inside, and suddenly, Cedric’s death flashes behind your eyes for the millionth time. Except this time, it feels much more real, and much, much worse. Harry Potter was standing over Draco, blood spewing from his white shirt. Draco’s breathing is shallow and almost nonexistent.

“I’m sorry! I- I didn’t know and-” Before Harry could finish, you had him pinned to the wall, your wand at his throat.

“Harry Potter, WHAT did you do to him?”

The door swings open and Professor Snape glides in, eyeing the situation. He kneels next to Draco, muttering silently as a quiet rage emanates from him. The blood rushes from the floor and back into Draco’s body. Snape stands, and instantly, you let go of Harry and rush to Draco’s side as he coughs and wheezes.

“Hey,” you whisper, tears streaming down your face. “Hey, you’re alright. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Miss Nott, get Mr. Malfoy to the hospital wing. I’ll deal with Mr. Potter.”

You nod, pulling Draco off the floor. He limps next to you all the way to Madam Pomfrey. You quickly replay the situation, and she goes to work; serums and potions and herbal remedies are shoved into Draco one by one. The color slowly returns to his cheeks, and soon, he’s no longer spluttering and coughing. He reaches for you and you move next to him, collapsing in his arms at once.

“I was so worried,” you sob, clinging to him. “I thought… I- “

“Shh,” he whispers. “I’m going to be alright. I’m okay.”

Second term comes and faster than you would’ve liked, you finished the Vanishing Cabinet. Now, as the sky changes from a gloomy grey to an orange, and finally to a muggy black, you stand before the cabinet, almost admiring your handiwork and use of charms and more advanced magic than you would’ve liked to believe you knew.

“Is everything in place?” Draco asks, stalking into the Room of Requirement.

“Yeah, everything is ready. We have until the hour is up to prepare ourselves, though,” you whisper, reaching your hand out to him. He takes it gingerly, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise,” he says. “If I can’t do it, we run. Alright?”

“We won’t make it very far,” you say, watching him carefully. “Draco, please remember what I said. I can handle this. If you can’t, then I will. I’ve already spoken to Dumbledore and-“

“You did what?” He asks, dropping your hand. He’s angry. Almost too angry for your liking.

“I spoke to Dumbledore,” you repeat, keeping your cool. “He knows tonight is the night. He knows what is going to happen to him. He knows you- you’re going to kill him. But he says he has a plan. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“Of course he wouldn’t tell you what his plan is, Y/N!” Draco explodes. He paces the room, gnawing on the fingernail of his thumb. “Do you know what happens if the Dark Lord finds out about this? About you sneaking off and revealing the plan to Dumbledore?”

You move in front of Draco, stopping his pacing by placing your hands on his forearms. “Draco, he already knew. I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t know. He knew for months that the Dark Lord was going to assign us this task. He already knew, Draco, because someone had already told him!”

Draco’s gaze meets your own, but he doesn’t have time to formulate a response. The door to the vanishing cabinet opens, and Fenrir Greyback is the first to jump out of it.

“Good work, young’uns,” he snarls. “Good work indeed.”

Wand poised, head up, the fear of the moment striking you in ways you didn’t think possible. The summer breeze blew your hair back, and you swallow the lump in your throat as you consider those sparkling blue eyes.

“Miss Nott,” Dumbledore says, eyeing you. “How very brave of you, to take Mr. Malfoy’s place. Though I didn’t think you the type.”

You don’t respond, choosing to keep your mouth shut- if you spoke, surely your voice would crack and you wouldn’t be able to do it. Draco steps next to you, holding his wand in front of him.

“Don’t you understand?” He says through his teeth. His voice is a whimper, and your heart breaks for him. “We have to do this. I have to kill you. Or he’s gonna kill me… Or worse, her.”

Footsteps ring through the Astronomy Tower, and you know the others will be joining to see if the job is finished.

“Draco,” you whisper, nudging him, but his eyes stay narrowed and focused on Dumbledore. Bellatrix is the first up the stairs. She takes in the scene before her.

“Well, look what we have here,” she breathes. She moves between Draco and you, placing herself right behind him. “Well done, Draco.”

Draco can’t seem to hide his disgust as she moves around him, standing at the frontlines. You look over to him, trying to gauge how bad the aftermath will be when this is over. He looks like the shell of the boy you’ve come to love. You reach over as discreetly as you can and slip your hand into his. He falters only for a moment, but straightens his shoulders out as he squeezes your hand.

“Good evening, Bellatrix,” Dumbledore says. “I think introductions are in order, don’t you?”

“Love to, Albus, but I’m afraid we’re on a bit of a tight schedule.” She turns to Draco. “Do it.”

Draco doesn’t move, and your heart races faster than you thought humanly possible.

“He doesn’t have the stomach,” Greyback sneers. “Just like his father. Let me finish him in my own way.”

“No!” Bellatrix exclaims. “The Dark Lord was clear the boy is to do it. This is your moment, Draco. Do it.”

Draco hesitates, his eyes darting between you, Bellatrix, and Dumbledore. You could see the tears forming in his eyes, and how he blinked them away just as quickly as they’d come.

“Go on, Draco,” Bellatrix encourages again. “Do it, now!”

Another set of footsteps emerges from the stairwell.

“No,” Professor Snape drawls as he steps into view. Draco breathes a small sigh of relief, and you breathe one for him. You thought you were going to have to step up to kill Dumbledore.

“Severus,” Dumbledore starts. The room is silent as everyone looks at each other, then focuses on Snape and Dumbledore. “Please.”

“Avada Kedavra,” Snape says calmly, twisting his wand towards Dumbledore.

Draco grabs you, tucking your face against his chest to hide you from the scene, but it was too late. You saw how lifeless Dumbledore had looked, and you saw the way he fell from the top of the tower. By this time tomorrow, everyone would know that Albus Dumbledore was dead, and Lord Voldemort was now in full control.

“Y/N,” Narcissa whispers as you enter the kitchen later that night. You rush into her arms, not wanting anyone else to see you like this, weeping for the loss of one of your favorite Professors, the loss of your mother, the loss of your freedom, and the loss of your innocence. “Shh… You’re safe, it’s alright.”

The deed had been done, and although you nor Draco had uttered that killing curse, you still knew of the plan, you’d still been there, and you were still Death Eaters. You’d done your best to hold it together for Draco, but now you were just trying to hold on a little longer for yourself.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper through your sobs. “I tried to show him I could handle it… But- but I- I didn’t do it.”

“You were perfect, my sweet girl. Everything is alright now… Your task is complete,” Narcissa says, stroking your hair.

You stay there a few minutes longer, your body shaking with quiet sobs as you hold onto Draco’s mother, well, the only mother you’d known since your fourth year at Hogwarts, when your own mother had passed away.

“Mum? Y/N?” Draco asks, entering the kitchen. You quickly wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see you cry this way. “Is everything alright?”

“As alright as it can be,” Narcissa says, still holding you tightly against her. “Why don’t you take Y/N up to bed. I will pretend to not notice that the guest bed will not have been slept in, okay?”

Draco nods and reaches his hand out to you, and you gingerly take it. He pulls you to him and wraps you in a tight hug, and you break down again. Draco is quick as he bends down and picks you up, wrapping one arm around your back and the other behind your knees, keeping you cradled to him.

The night is sleepless and filled with nightmares of Dumbledore’s ashen face, and although you are tucked between Draco’s arm and chest, you still feel as lifeless as Dumbledore.

Year Seven

Hogwarts will never be the same. The Carrows have taken over at the request of Headmaster Snape. Gryffindors are tortured, Hufflepuffs are belittled, and Ravenclaws are tested daily, but Slytherins are untouched.

Classes now revolve around the Dark Lord and dark arts, and at one point, you were sure you’d been poisoning textbooks in your “potions” class.

“This is ridiculous,” you say, tossing one of your textbooks on the floor of the common room.

“What if we ran away?” Draco says suddenly. He’s standing by the window, looking into the murky water of the black lake. “What if we just left? No one would even notice we were missing.”

“Draco,” you start. “Everyone would know we were missing. What about your mother and father? We can’t put them through that.”

“Why not? If they don’t know, it can’t hurt them. Let’s just go. We can go to Italy, maybe? Hide out for a bit, I know of a wizarding community there. We can just go be together and not have to worry about all of this for a while.”

“Draco, I don’t know… It sounds too risky. What if they come after us?”

Draco kneels in front of you, holding your hands between his own.

“I won’t let them hurt you anymore. I promise. Let’s get out of here, let’s just go.”

He gazes up at you, his eyes fierce and grey and beautiful, and you are completely entranced. The way he looks at you tells you that he’s been thinking about this for a while, and although it’s against your better judgement, you nod.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Italy was amazing, to say the least. Though you kept track of what was going on back at Hogwarts, it was like the loom of the Dark Lord was almost absent here. Nobody seemed to care that there was a dark and powerful wizard on the rise, and nobody was rushing around as they were back home. It was sunny and beautiful most days, and Draco took you to so many tourist attractions that it felt like a genuine vacation.

But it was over sooner than you would’ve liked. Soon enough, you were back in the Malfoy Manor, six months behind you like they never happened.

“It’s happened,” Lucius says gravely. “He’s taking over Hogwarts. We invade tomorrow. He’s going to kill Harry Potter.”

The battle is fierce and scary and it only took one curse at Hermione Granger for you to understand which side you wanted to fight for. All it took was a look and Draco was on the same side as you.

So, you fought Death Eaters tooth and nail together, side by side, protecting each other at all costs. You throw curses you didn’t even know you really knew, and scream counter-curses over your shoulder when Draco freezes up.

Through everything, Draco never leaves your side. Even now, when you stand in the courtyard among your fellow students, the Dark Lord in front of you, you aren’t afraid.

“I killed Harry Potter!” Voldemort shouts gleefully. His smile is in slits, and he looks more menacing than ever.

There was a flurry of activity from Hagrid’s arms where Harry Potter lay, and suddenly, Harry was on his feet and the fighting began again.

Voldemort is gone for good. There’s no way he can hurt you or Draco now. Snape is dead. Lucius is in Azkaban, and you and Draco? You stand together, hand in hand, in the sunflower field you once lay in, grinning at each other as some of your closest friends surround you.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, do you take Y/N Y/M/N Nott to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Draco smiles at you, and it is a smile that could bring anything back to life. “My love, I’ve chosen you since the beginning, and here I stand choosing you now. I do.”

“I do, too,” you say, before the pastor can even get his own words out. You don’t wait for him to announce you as man and wife before you throw yourself into his arms, kissing him hard in front of everyone, though in that moment it was only the two of you.

The following years were spent together in your cottage in Italy. It was quaint, but a nice change of pace from the manor that you’d both been so used to. Narcissa visits often, always bringing goodies from the Manor and sometimes even staying weekends. Draco vowed to only be a force of good, and had become a Healer at a St. Mungo’s location in Venice. You, however, were particularly gifted in charms, and helped apparated to London often to visit and help him develop new protective spells.

It wasn’t long before you and Draco started your own little Malfoy family. First a little boy, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, followed two years later by a little girl, Cecelia Rose Malfoy. It wasn’t long before you moved back to London, wanting your own children to go to Hogwarts as you both did.

Draco was happier than you’d ever seen him. You often danced together in the kitchen, and read your two children books together. He’d turned into the man you needed and loved, and he cherished you as if you were his most prized possession. Because in his eyes, you were. He would never stop choosing you, and you him.

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #hogwarts #battle at hogwarts #lucius malfoy #hermione granger #Ron Weasley

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mainly-kpop · 5 years ago

Text

Gotta be trippin'

Word count: 2737

Warnings: none to report I don't think. Some cursing I guess?

Summary: instead of the regular entering a game story, what happens when her favourite character comes out said game?

A.N: Can I just take a moment to thank y’all for 500 followers wow. I never thought I’d get this far but here we are, As always I hope y’all stick by me and watch me grow <3

Ask box is always open, come talk to me. ask me things, tell me things, confide in me. Lets make friends :)

Banner by @lightupmyass/@ot7-hoes

‘KOOKIE DON’T RUN THERE, HE’S RIGHT THERE!’ She screamed at the monitor, her character long dead and caught. Jungkook screamed down the microphone, no words, just screaming as his character bolts to the other side of the room. He sat for a moment, catching his breath, she dared not look at the screen. It wasn’t her character anymore, but she also couldn’t stand the tension. She didn’t know why she played these games, being the biggest pussy in the world, it didn’t really make sense. Tension and jump scares were her kryptonite, being the main reason she got no sleep at night.

‘Okay, I think I’M-OH MY HOLY FUCK HE’S RIGHT BEHIND ME- and he ripped my legs off, cool. Great.’ He screamed and whined, she sighed, thank fuck that was over for now. Jungkook said the dangerous words, the words that promised she would be up all night.

‘One more game?’ She sighed, clicking her character and locking in. He just laughed on the other side, picking his usual too.

‘I really don’t know why you pick him all the time, he’s so fucking clumsy. He’s always knocking into something or sneezing, I mean what fucking game character actually sneezes!’ He whined, sneaking through the same room they had done three times already. She picked up a couple items she could throw, to distract the bad guys.

‘Don’t be rude, I love him. You’re character isn’t much better, he may be graceful but he’s still just as tall!’ Namjoon was her chosen character, tall, lanky and very clumsy. The characters in this game were awkwardly normal, doing things that usually weren’t programed into normal stealth games. Namjoon would sneeze or stub his toe, would fart in fear, most of the time giving away his position. Jin however wasn’t all that much better, screaming when a rat scurried past him or a tree brushed against a window. His hair sticking up over most of the hiding spots. They were realistically dumb characters, that’s what made the game so fun yet difficult. There was better characters, ones built specifically for stealth. Their stats showing drastically better than the chosen two characters, but where was the fun in that?

‘Don’t you dare bad mouth Jin, you take it back you spineless bastard.’ She gasped in mock hurt, scootching her character right beside him. Just as expected, her character sneezed giving away their position getting them both killed.

‘You’re a dick, you know that?’ He sighed, logging out of the game, throwing the controller away. A rage quit, real mature.

‘Hey what can I say, it’s a gift.’ She replied, logging out too, saying a quick goodbye. She sank into her warm bedsheets, sighing contently, at least she might actually get some sleep tonight.

A bright light shone the expanse of her small room, from outside you would see it three streets over. She winced in her sleep, rolling over whining, the light dimmed as she went to crack her eyes open. Smiling contently, she snuggled back into the pillow of her bed, falling asleep almost instantly. He looked over her sleeping form, tilting his head to the left. She let out a particularly loud snore, he shrieked in fright, covering his mouth instantly. How did he get here? It doesn’t make sense, he’s somewhere he didn’t know. He was just in a beaten down library, no?

Alarm blaring she moaned, a loud, sleep filled grumble, slapping her hand all over her bedside table. Finally grabbing her phone she turned the incessant ringing off. She whined, realising Jungkook would be over soon to grab her for classes. Laying in bed for another 20 minutes scrolling through her phone, she finally pulled her sleep deprived body out of bed. Grabbing a random shirt from the drying rack and some jeans that were lying on the floor, she sighed grabbing her bag pack. Shoving a slice of gum in her mouth she slipped out the front door, climbing into Jungkooks car. Jungkook scrunched his nose up, she smelt ripe, could she not tell she was smelly? He threw a can of deodorant at her, raising his eyebrow waiting, for the love of God please use it.

‘Didn’t you wear those jeans yesterday?’ He sighed, looking her up and down in disgust. She rolled her eyes, throwing the can of deodorant in the back, pulling down the sun visor to look in the mirror. Raking a hand through her hair, she brushed out the kinks, folding it back up and sinking in the seat.

‘I mean probably, but whose paying attention to anything in university? Everyone is just trying to get through the day without a nap.’ He sighed, why was he friends with the biggest mess on campus?

‘Besides, you wore that shirt yesterday, and dropped some sauce down it.’ She pointed out, letting him know, they were friends because they’re on the same level. Both disgusting, hardly functioning college students, trying to learn something. Something more than how to live on ramen for a year.

‘Don’t attack me like that, that hurt my soul.’ She rolled her eyes, smacking him before they pulled up to the school.

‘Right, out my car you slob, time to learn.’ He grabbed his bag pack from the back seat, climbing out the car and locking it. She bid good day to him, promising to meet at his car when they were done. She only had a half day today and he finished classes an hour after her. Realistically, that would give her time to go to the library, study up. However, she was 100% just going to the canteen to nap on a table after eating her weight in bad food.

He sighed a breath of relief as she left the house, holding back just in case she wasn’t gone yet. Waiting a couple minutes, he pushed the closet door open, stepping into the middle of the room. Did she take the jeans that were on the floor? God this girl needed to do some washing. He walked about for a while, not really knowing what to do, usually something would have happened by now, but this seemed quiet. There was no creaking floorboards, no ominous footsteps. Nothing. It was just a peaceful two story house, two bedroom, one bathroom, messy ass house. The bed looked comfortable, that was also strange, usually sheets were ripped and worn, smelt of mould and damp. This bed was soft, smelt like fabric softener, unmade, but comfortable.

‘A little nap couldn’t hurt right?’ laying his head down on the pillow he closed his eyes softly, this outfit really wasn’t sleep compatible, he would change later, after his short nap. Five minutes, maximum.

‘Thanks for dropping me home Kook, we playing tonight?’ She questioned, one leg out the car.

‘Sure, some new skins and stuff came out for Jin, so I’ll check them out first before we play. I think Namjoon got something too, an update or something? Hopefully he doesn’t sneeze and roll anymore.’ She smacked his arm as he laughed, running his hand through his hair.

‘Don’t insult my man Jungkook, or I’ll make him roll and sneeze at you again.’ Closing the door behind her, she ran up her path. Throwing her bag by the door, she sighed. Thank god this day was over. ‘I need a nap.’ She thought out loud, trudging back to her bedroom. Jeans weren’t exactly sleep material, so she undid the button, walking out of them with every step she took.

‘AGH! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!’ It startled him out of his sleep, flailing around on the bed trying to stand in a defensive position.

‘WHY DON’T YOU HAVE PANTS ON!?’ He yelped back, horror written all over his face.

‘YOU DON’T ASK THE QUESTIONS HERE, I DO. WHO ARE YOU?!’ She tried to arm herself with the nearest thing, being her clock that hasn’t worked for 3 years. It was cute, slowly becoming more decorative than functional. He took a breath, calming himself down.

‘I’m Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you.’ He spoke calmly, trying to keep his eyes on her and not the VERY small panties she was wearing. She smiled, holding back a laugh, every serious second that passed she couldn’t hold it any longer. A loud, hearty laugh escaped her lips, catching Namjoon off guard. He tilted his head slightly to the right, trying to figure out what in hell was so funny.

‘Sorry, really I’m- HA. No sorry, I don’t know what to say, it’s a good cosplay though! I’m impressed.’ His frown only deepened, heavily confused, what the fuck is cosplay?

‘What is-‘

‘I told you, I ask the questions not you. How did you get in here?’ He thought about it, now she was asking he had no idea. Honestly one minute he was in a beaten down library, next he was staring over her snoring body as she slept.

‘Okay, you took too long I’m calling the cops.’ She sighed, grabbing her phone off her bedside table, running down the hall trying to dial the 3 numbers. He was faster, clumsily he grabbed her waist, throwing them both to the ground.

‘Please don’t call the police, we don’t know what’s happening yet!’ He scream whispered, genuine fear of something bad happening.

‘I know exactly what I’m going to say, okay hear me out.’ He climbed off her body, sitting on his knees ready to listen. ‘I’m going to say “hello, officer, some FUCKING CRAZY DUDE BROKE INTO MY HOUSE” how does that sound?’ He furrowed his eyebrows, tapping his chin in thought.

‘I mean, generally, it doesn’t sound too bad. Quite convincing, you sound a little... Hmm, how do I put this nicely, erratic! You sound fucking erratic.’ She tipped her head, now she was sitting closer to him, she could see the resemblance to the character. It was creepy actually, and she could commend the art in any other situation.

‘To be Frank, Mr. Namjoon, I don’t care how I sound, for me, right now, it’s the truth. Unless you can explain yourself that is?’ He sighed rolling his eyes, he might as well say, at this point it’s not like she would actually believe him.

‘I was in an old beaten down library, smelled like dust and was damp. The books were old, worn and falling apart, I could hear creaking above me but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, I hid, like I always do because I’m a pussy. Anyways, I went to stand up, pulled a book off the shelf, fell to the ground, and boom here I am. One bright light, and a short fall later. I know you don’t believe me, but that’s what happened.’ He dusted off his trousers, standing up off the floor, reaching his hand out for her to take. Slipping her hand hesitantly in his, she stood, bodies flushed together. She awkwardly cleared her throat, taking a step back.

‘I need to sleep, this is insanity.’ She sighed, slinking past him into her bedroom. She still wasn’t wearing pants, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Ignoring it as much as she could, climbing into the warm embrace of her bed.

‘It’s only 4pm...’ Namjoon pointed out, frown deep set on his face. She sighed rolling over in the bed to face him.

‘I know, so could you turn the light off and close the blinds? At least it will help me pretend it’s like midnight?’ He rolled his eyes, a sarcastic laugh slipping through his lips. He stood in utter disbelief for a moment before doing as he was told.

‘Fine, I’ll just sit in this chair, and wait.’ She waved her hand in his general direction a small “yeah whatever” being the last thing leaving her mouth. He sighed slumping down into the chair, well he might as well try to get some rest too...

She snored herself awake the next morning, looking around hazily wondering why she was awake. The man across the room rolled his eyes at her, straightening out his posture from leaning on the door frame.

‘You sleep like a log, I totally beat up and killed a rabid dog last night and you didn’t even stir.’ Her eyes bulged out her head, leaping out of the bed and to the window she looked out. Mr Stevensons dog next door was a bit... Hyper to say the least, but not rabid!

‘YOU KILLED A DOG!?’ She yelped, looking all over the yard for the evidence. He laughed from the doorway, stepping forward.

‘No, but I did stub my toe really hard off your bed. Jolted it and everything, let out a scream of pain and you, just snored louder to cover it. Thanks for that.’ He sighed, lying down on her bed, the lumpy chair in the corner really not doing wonders for his back.

‘You can’t joke like that, Christ. Anyways, I believe you.’ His eyebrows shot up his forehead, he wasn’t even sure he believed himself. ‘I know, hard to believe, but not as hard to believe as your story. However, I have decided to trust you, now how do we get you back in the game?’ He frowned, he didn’t want to go back. How was he supposed to tell her he didn’t want to go back to fighting monsters, didn’t want to go back to the fear of dying every 5 minutes. He wasn’t cut out for this life, he didn’t want it. She watched him curiously, he was cute. She always found the character cute, but she didn’t want him to go back, she wanted to learn about him. About what he remembers from the game, if he had his own memories other than just dying over and over. She wanted to know him.

‘You don’t want to go back, do you?’ He shook his head coyly, she sighed, kind of relieved kind of stressed. She couldn’t really just throw this guy onto the streets, slumping back down into her pillow she thought of a game plan. He had almost fallen asleep before she shot up, speaking again.

‘Okay, you can stay here. You’re not freeloading though, so you can wipe that happiness off your face right now. You need to get a job, or go to college or something. This house is already paid for but if I have to feed another mouth, you’ll be paying too.’ He nodded, he could do that.

‘I still can’t believe you didn’t send him back.’ Jungkook spoke, throwing mini hula hoops into her mouth. Two months had passed, Namjoon proving to be a massive help. More than she had anticipated. He wasn’t scared of spiders, easily scooping them up and getting rid of them. He liked playing games, especially the ones he came out of, telling Jungkook all the secrets helping him advance faster. Him and Jungkook had become nerd friends, always talking about comics and games. He had taken up a job teaching kids self defence, showing them how to get rid of bad guys. ‘But only if you’re attacked first kids!’

‘Thought you hated his character anyways? He’s so much more helpful in this world than that one.’ She jolted a finger towards the TV, catching the next hula hoop easily.

‘I mean yeah, but now the character has no personality, it’s boring.’ She rolled her eyes, the front door closing. Jungkooks attention diverted, throwing the crisp right at her eye.

‘Jungkook what the-‘ it was so obvious who Jungkook favoured now, clearly he had a new best friend.

‘Oh hey dude! How are you? How was work? Any kids kick you in the knee caps again?’ He fired questions at her roommate, causing a startled look to bubble it’s way over his features. He looked at her in mild panic and shock before sinking into a seat.

‘Na, thankfully that hasn’t happened again. It was okay today though, we had a new trainee, he’s a good bit older than the other trainees though.’ Jungkook and her cocked an eyebrow at each other.

‘How much older? What’s his name?’ Namjoon pulled his eyebrows together, grabbing some snacks from Jungkooks lap.

‘He’s definitely older than me, I think he said his name was Jin?’ She choked on her spit, Jungkook following suit. That had to be a coincidence, right?

#bts #bangtan #bts one shot #requests open #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts reactions #bts namjoon #talking requests #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook

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imagining-sio · 6 years ago

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Red Blood & A Heart Of Gold VII

Jason Todd x reader

Notes: more idiot Harper, but wholesome Harper

Also this one is rather short sowwwyyyy

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I woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit. I sat up in bed, supporting myself by my palms. I grew increasingly wary of the breakfasty smells emanating from the kitchen. I reoved the mountains of balnkets off of me, swinging the legs over the ledge of my matress. I silently got out of bed, carefully tip toeing into the living room area where I could get a clear view of the kitchen area behind the breakfast bar. I pulled the old red sweatshirt sleeves over my hands wringing the cuffs between my fingers.

“Morning Sunshine!” Roy said over his shoulder as he worked on the stove. The brekfast bar blocked my view of his lower half, so all I knew was that he was shirtless, or taking one of his “Air Baths”.

“Please tell me you have pants on.” I said warily. The red head stuck his leg out from the side of the breakfast bar by the door, revealing he was indeed wearing swetpants. I blew a sigh of relief as I sat at the bar, watching him make pancakes.

“How’d you sleep.” I looked over my shoulder at the couch, which had a strewn blanket over its back.

“I’ve slept on worse couches, (Y/N).” Roy chuckled as he continued to cook.

“How’s Lian?”

“You’re goddaughter is with her grandmother at the moment. Until I get the apartment squared away.”

“Well Dinah does spoil her. So she’ll be fine.” I gratefully took the mug of tea he handed me, letting the bag marinate between my hands.

“You should see what Ollie does.” Roy said lowly.

“I have.” I took a small swig of the tea, recoiling when I found it way to bitter.

“What did you put in this?” I asked, coughing as the tea burned my throat.

“What” he turned around eyes widening at the sight of the mug in my hands.

“Oh! That’s my tea. Yours is in the other one.”

“Did you put vodka in that?” I coughed.

“Perhaps.”

“Roy!” I said dismayed.

“What, its Saturday!”

“It’s nine in the morning!” I argued.

“I know, I did it to mess with you.” he poured the contents of the tea into the sink before pouring another cup.

“You’re not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling.” He smirked as he handed me the cup again, I eyed him suspiciously. He rolled his eyes and took a swig beffore handing it back to me.

“There, happy?”

“That remains to be seen.” I took a small sip, testing it to make sure the whole batch wasn’t tampered with. It wasn’t.

“You still sleep in those?” He raised a brow.

“Sometimes, not as often as I once did.” I tilted my head to the side.

“Yeah, I remember when you would wear those every night.” He sipped his own cup of tea, setting a plate of pancakes down i front of me.

“Yeah,” I began to eat, desperately wanting him to change the subject.

“Hey, you remember when we took Grayson’s underwear and strung it up in the gardens.”

I choked on the mouthful of food.

“I forgot we did that.” I rubbed my temples, chuckling at the memory.

“It was awesome though!” Roy cackled, causing me to oin in on his infectous laughter.

“Dick’s face was priceless!” I doubled over, hugging my sides from the dull pan remaining from my bruised lungs.

“Man we got in so much trouble with Alfred.”

“I’m sorry we? You were the one who escaped out the window!”

“Drastic times calls for drastic measures.” He said with a false seriousness.

“We were such idiots.”

“Alfred used to call us ‘the three musketeers’.”

“Yeah, which made me D’artangan.” I smiled fondly.

“Ha! I fogot you would call yourself that.”

“We were so stupid back then.”

“Yeah; the things Jason did to impress you were ridiculous.”

“Impress me?”

“You were so oblivious.”

“I was?”

“He’s practically in love with you.” Strange that he used present tense to talk about him that way.

“I - what?”

“Why else would he sneak out to go see you!”

“Because we were friends. And you still lived in Star City.”

“Wow, just wow.”

“What Roy?”

“It’s just that-“ his phone buzzed in his pocket, he looked at it before sighing.

“I gotta jet, Jones.”

“What’s wrong?” I asked, noting his exasperated expression.

“Nothing, just an issue with the apartment. I gotta sign some shit.” he threw on a shirt and his shoes.

“Oh, be careful ok. I don’t wanna find you in a body bag like last time.”

“Ok, that was a prank. And it was the only time you ever punched me so I have a solid reason to never do it again.” he pointed at me with his phone in hand. He grabbed his backpack and threw on his hooded jacket.

“How are you a parent?”

“It’s a gift.” He pecked the top of my head as he opened the door; “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s part of the job.”

“Stay safe, Jones.”

“Back at you Harper.” I waved goodbye as he descended down the steps. As I began close the door, I noticed a man with a gym bag and hoodie walking up the steps, exchanging a look with Harper. The stranger’s gaze turned toward me, with bright blue eyes. A small flit of white peaked out from under the hood. His eyes widened slightly upon noticing me. I took a sharp inhale and slammed the door, leaning my back against it in exhaustion. He couldn’t possibly be here; he surely had better things to do.

Maybe I was being paranoid.

I put a hand to my forehead, rubbing my eyes as I retracted it. After taking a breathe, I walked back into my bedroom, taking the extra blankets the Roy put on the bed and folding them up. After placing the blankets back into the linen closet. I threw off my old hoodie, one that belonged to Jason long ago, one that was still a little big on me. I laid it down on my bed and got into the shower, letting the hot water run down my exposed skin.

The steam rose into the vent. Shutting my eyes to feel the droplets of water snaked down my body light as a feather. I tilted my head back, reveling in the hot water that sprayed over my chest and neck. I took a deep breath, allowing my shoulders to slack.

It started as a sensation. I felt a ghost of a touch agaist my shoulder. A set of lips leaving a trail along my exposed neck. A hard hot surface upon my back. The scent of leather, and gunpowder grew eminent through the steam. I leant my head back, revelling in the sensation of gloves fingers ghosting across my waste. Beneath my eyelids I could spot a domino mask and a flit if white hair.

I shook myself out of my stupor, frantically looking around in my enclosed shower only to find myself alone. Even after wiping away the dewed steam upon the glass door, I was the only one in my bathroom. I groaned, switching my hot shower to a cold one.

I stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel as I walked through toward my closet grabbing the clean blouse and slim pants. I turned heel to the armoire, grabbing the matching set of linen undergarments.

Upon looking back at my outfit laid before me, I noticed something.

The blouse was a muted red. My linens were red. He wore red. He’d probably like the red.

And then I was reminded just how fast my mind can throw itself into the gutter.

‘I need to get him out of my head.’ I repeated to myself.

I need to get him out of my head. I need to get him out of my head. I need get him in my bed.

NO, BAD (Y/N). WE DO NOT WANT THAT.

I flopped onto my bed face first, groaning audibly into the pillow.

This was going to be a long day indeed....

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd #bat boy #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood #dc #arkham knight #things are getting steamy

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unfortunatelysirius · 7 years ago

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Whispers in the Dark [Tom Riddle x Ravenclaw! Reader – Pre-Hogwarts] [Part 2]

♥ PROMPT ♥ Y/N L/N has a family notorious for writing school books, and this causes her to be teased and taunted mercilessly by Hogwarts students of every color. Tom, however, regards the girl with intrigue, and this leads to a relationship both passionate and consequential. ♥ A/N ♥ This took forever to write and upload. I apologize for that. Anyways, sorry for making the main character out to be such a dark and foreboding person—it just makes sense to be rather reproachful of your parents after suffering through five years of bullying. Tom was made the way he is from the way he grew up—Y/N was made into a villain of sorts due to the people around her. Positive change doesn’t exist for people that suffer through this kinda shite. If you’d like a happy ending that involves no angry Voldy trying to kill all da non-pure wizards, then just ask for it! Otherwise, this story won’t have one. Enjoy, y’all! :D ♥ WARNINGS ♥ Swearing, Angst, Suicidal Thoughts ♥ WORD COUNT ♥ 1562

The Sorting was the worst part of Hogwarts, whether it was determined by the beginning, middle, or end. Everyone was picking on someone or another, playing princess or victim in this dreadful rendition of a fairy-tale. Sometimes, it was someone from Hufflepuff that made the mistake of defending a friend—or a Gryffindor that turned some unfortunate Slytherin toe-rag’s hair blue. Whatever it usually was, that wasn’t how it went for Y/N.

They all targeted her. Gabrielle L/N and Alexandre L/N had written a new book.

“So, you read your mum’s work in your spare time?” some git from Slytherin asked, throwing her a smirk.

“History or Potions-making—what’s your preference, L/N? After all, you’ll be doing the same thing, won’t you?” his friend added. A slap of the hands was shared—a grin was evident on both of their faces.

Y/N breathed in deeply. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10. Tried it twice. She breathed out a strong, low breath of contained rage. But it didn’t work. Never worked. I don’t want to be here anymore.

He could help you, Y/N… just let the darkness in.

Dumbledore was watching from the professor’s table, eying her as she clenched the tabletop with immense force. Tom Riddle joined his stare, gazing at the girl with intrigue. No one knew, but he was speaking to her in tongues, his eyes like a fire that penetrated her light, invaded her space—gave her a taste of darkness.

1, 2—the Dark Lord’s coming for you.

3, 4—won’t you riddle me more?

5, 6—your mind’s ajar, he’s on your trail from afar.

7, 8—better lay yourself straight.

9, 10—you’re under his spell yet again.

The Headmaster came up to the stand after the last kid was sorted, giving the room of Hogwarts students a bright grin. “May the feast… begin,” he said, and with a wink of his eyes, food sprouted up from the tabletops.

Y/N was not hungry. She was eying the two blokes from before with a malevolent glare, hands tight and whitened around the wood of the table. Was it wrong to imagine them dead? They were people that caused her pain—people like her dorm-mates, always degrading her into a spiral of self-pity. She hated her parents—why couldn’t everyone understand that? She was just like them. She was one of them.

Why did she deserve this?

Dumbledore watched Tom Riddle closely, noticing the way his stare imbedded itself viciously into Y/N L/N’s skin. He looked at her like a wolf would a sheep—that sort of predatory gaze that made chills roll down your spine. The kind that made you paranoid. Interesting.

Interesting.

The feast was over, and Y/N was desperate. Whether it was a mirror or a trophy or a closet or a window—she wanted to smash something. She wanted to break something. She wanted to hurt—to do something that ripped apart her knuckles and made her feel human again.

Was it so strong to search for something that made you feel human? So wrong that it made you into the villain of your own story?

Y/N’s dorm-room was empty. There was only another girl her age that was in Ravenclaw, and she was probably sleeping elsewhere to avoid being associated with a L/N.

Even Ravenclaws avoided her like the black plague. They didn’t want to be bullied for liking someone known to be a target. No one did—even the most lovable of Hufflepuffs.

Y/N took great pleasure and great leisure in busting everything made of glass and wood in her room. She smashed the window, snapped apart the frame of her bed, sat on the floor and ripped at the knobs of her dresser. She even took a chair leg and smashed the window. She wanted everything to break; she wanted everything dead and gone, just like her heart. Just like everything in her that was supposedly still functioning.

Her trunk was there, right by the windowpane. Shattered glass littered its top, giving it an eerie glow after the moonlight came and hit. Blood soaked the glass, almost as blatantly displayed as it was on Y/N’s skin. She walked over to the trunk, blood drip-drip-dripping to the ground, like a scene from a horror film—only this time, it was real.

She dropped to her knees, liking the way the excess glass cut deep into her skin. It gave her something to think about that didn’t revolve around her classmates and professors. She could pretend that the letter mailed out to every Hogwarts student didn’t have her name under the list of required materials. She didn’t like to think about her reality. She’d rather use an Unforgivable against herself than think about the paining nightmare that was her life.

Out came a diary and a quill, both dusted and old-as-could-be. Y/N flipped open the cover, looking down with hard, sunken eyes. She began to write, as fast as humanely possible—her writing like a scrawl of hieroglyphics.

Dear diary,

I’m never left to my own devices. I’m always being jinxed or taunted or hurt, whether it’s with words or with knuckles. It happens every day—I’m never left alone. I’ve become a target, all because of my bloody last name.

Does it make me in the wrong to resent my parents? Does it make me pathetic to blame them for the crimes of others? I do not care anymore what you think, but the questions are of rhetoric—they mean nothing to you, yet are left to be decided by Merlin himself, or fate more-like. I just ask to put my thoughts into perspective, but this only works if I’m actually intent on discovering a solid answer.

But there always is a certain solution—one that lives in the dark, awaiting someone so desperate to find release that they resort to drastic measures.

I was never one to be afraid of flight.

She threw her diary to the side, ignoring the clatter it made with its impact. Y/N grabbed onto the back of her head, clenching her scalp so hard that she nearly cried out from the pain.

Desperation. There it was—the only emotion that Y/N could read, the only emotion that Y/N had ever felt. She was desperate to be afraid. She wanted for something in the back of her mind to go into fight-or-flee mood. Her survival instinct; surely it wasn’t drained from her now, was it?

Taking a deep breath, Y/N soared from her room. She ran down through the Ravenclaw chamber-doors, ignoring the bewildered glares she got from her classmates.

The astronomy tower. She needed to get to the astronomy tower.

She ran and ran and ran up the stairs until her spine ached and her muscles were conjoined into knots. But before she could manage to reach the top, she ran into someone, knocking the wind out of her and proceeding to push her into a wall.

“You should watch where you’re going,” the arsehole said, and Y/N was surprised to see Tom Riddle standing there. He was nursing his chest, and Y/N supposed she hadn’t been the only one to feel the wind knocked out of her.

She glared at him. “I was in a hurry.” She didn’t specify why. She didn’t even bother to apologize. She just wanted to get going before a professor could come and remind her of the curfew.

Tom tiled his head, regarding her like she was an object meant for inspection. He kept his lips in a tight line. “I suppose you were,” he said slowly. He stepped a bit closer, giving her that same inspective look. “I suppose you were… running from a mysterious source of anguish. This enigma—did it happen to be yourself or those that fail to be kind?”

Y/N blinked at him, her knuckles trembling ever-so-slightly. “Neither, actually,” she said stiffly. “I just wanted a quick run around the school.”

Tom chuckled, but it was anything but lighthearted. “I know you, Y/N L/N,” he whispered. “You’re scared and think your only option is to run, but it isn’t. You could do something great with the rage building inside of you. Your temperament—it could do a deal of damage that makes all the pain and anguish disappear completely. You could be someone with power.

“Yet… you choose to run.” He stepped towards her, coming to have her at a proximity that left her head tilting up to look into his eyes. “Don’t let your pain consume you, Y/N L/N. Then… you’ll be nothing but skin and bones. And the darkness will have no choice but to leave you maggot-infested and alone.”

Y/N’s back was against the wall, and her façade was slowly dropping. She couldn’t look him in the eye without feeling the need to whimper. “I’m not running from anything, Tom Riddle,” she spat at him.

Tom smiled mirthlessly, his tone turning cold. “Your mind begs to disagree,” he told her, his voice a seductive purr albeit being bit out by a sociopathic git.

As fast as he appeared, he was gone.

The astronomy tower. Get to the astronomy tower.

Y/N was already there, and she didn’t have the heart or the energy to step up on that ledge.

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #tomriddle #lord voldemort #harry potter x reader #pre-hogwarts #albus dumbledore #dumbledore #harry potter #harrypotter #hpedit #harry potter moodboard #harry potter imagine #x reader #imagines #imagine

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puchittothelimit · 8 years ago

Note

May I request a fic of Daji and Ao kuang being attracted to eat other but also want to kill each other because they see the other as competition?

Author’s Notes

Fandom: SMITE

Fan-fiction: TranquilHomes

Summary: Ao Kuang’speaceful night is set to be disturbed when he receives an unexpected visitor,set on tipping the world over the edge, though she might be swayed.

Characters: AoKuang, Ao Bing (Non-canon; Small Role), Daji

Warnings: None

“The dah-ring boy dashed into the-,” Ao Bing frowned as hefound himself cut off by his father’s gentle laughter. How was he supposed toimprove his reading if his father kept interrupting him all the time?

Ao Kuang held his tongue upon noticing his child glaring athim and though young with innocent features, it still intimidated him. Afterall, he was his own flesh and blood and Ao Kuang knew what he, himself, wascapable of. “Daring, my son,” He gestured towards the characters in turn on thescripture. The boy pouted and continued.

“The daring boy dashed into the fray, knowing he was strongenough to…” He trailed off, his words becoming stretched into a yawn.

“See? You do know these words. You’re just tired,” He tookthe scroll from upon the bedsheets and rolled it up. He was about the secure itwith a tie before he saw small, outstretched arms, both with open palms out ofthe corner of his eye.

“I want to tie it,” Ao Bing demanded groggily. His fatherwas indifferent to his child’s lack of manners; he was second only to hisfather and Ao Kuang truly admired his son’ complete lack of fearfulness towardshim, and to have him brimming with confidence was what he truly desired.

He handed him both the scroll and the tie silently and watchedhim as he secured the scroll, “I see you’ve been practicing,” By the time AoKuang had finished speaking, the child was done. Ao Bing rolled over in his bedand placed the scroll on a table beside him, but didn’t have the energy toreturn to his original position and instead sunk into the edge of his pillow.“Well done Ao.’” Ao Kuang saw his son’s face light up with pride, though hewould’ve shined brighter had he not been so tired. The light soon faded as heclosed his eyes and dozed off.

Ao Kuang stood from the bed and was about to manoeuvre hisson so he was more central in his bed but he remained poised, having beenhalted by unusual sounds that had perked up his senses. It was like a brush,silken but swift. Ao Kuang wasn’t certain that it was the drapes by the openshutters, blowing in the gentle breeze, but he felt inclined to close them. Ashe neared the opening to the outdoors, he could feel the leftover aroma of theprevious day graze his snout. He came closer still and suddenly, his nostrilswere stung by a drastically different scent: cologne.

He scowled. Someone was out there and he knew it. That’s whyhe didn’t have any security, in or around his palace; He was ever present andever vigilant, and certainly didn’t need anyone else to protect him, or his son.

“Hello Ao,” A smooth voice suddenly caught his senses. Hedrew his sword and immediately thrust the blade in the direction of the noise.His wide gaze, still ridden from the shock of the voice, met the rich, hazeleyes of a smug Daji. “Rude. Don’t you know that the way to make friends is notto point a sword in their face.” She tilted the blade down with her own smallerappendages without much of a thought. Ao Kuang scowled. Her ability to becompletely unfazed by anything he did to threaten her was vexing.

Then, she swaggered right into his son’s room. Had anyoneelse done such a thing, he would’ve slaughtered them on sight. Alas, Ao Kuanghad a certain fondness for her. He told himself it was due to her similardesire for chaos, but truly it ran deeper, emerging from a part of his being henever dared acknowledge.

In his daze, Daji had come closer to his sleeping son. AoKuang’s heart tightened but he did not intervene. She was no threat but yet herpresence was slightly intimidating.

Daji kneeled by the boy’s bed. This being the first timeshe’d seen Ao Kuang’s very own son in person, she was curious as to how much heshared his father’s likeness. Admittedly, whilst curled up in slumber, hedidn’t show his father’s ferocity. She figured it was only a matter of time. Atthe current moment in time, she was more taken by his more bonny features whencompared to his father, “Oh, he looks just like you Ao,” She cooed. There wasno response, but the hair on her tails flared as something brushed againstthem, and a firm hand planted itself on her shoulder and brought her away fromthe bed. She sighed, “You want to touch me? That’ll cost you, you know.”

“Daji, please…” Ao Kuang urged in a hushed tone, as not towake his son.

“I didn’t do anything!” She whined, though she did notprotest; she frequently let herself be led by others which frequently led theminto a false of security.

“With the nature of what you do,” He opened the shuttersthat connected his son’s room to the large, main, open space of his palace and usheredDaji out, “I don’t want you near my son.”

“I’m not going to kill him Ao. Oh my goodness, why would youthink that?”

“I’m not talking about that.”

Daji found herself shocked, which wasn’t common. She slidhis hand off of her shoulder, and turned to face him, “Really? I may be sickand ruthless but I’m not an animal.” She threw herself from the balcony of thehall onto the lower level below, and landed gracefully on a chaise. Ao Kuangtook the stairs.

They settled in a relatively small living space in the hallmade grand by the décor. Ao Kuang approached a small table with beverages andDaji perked up, “Oh! Tea please,” She chirruped, earning an audible groan fromher unwilling host, and a cup of tea.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Ao Kuangsettled into his own seat. His voice carried only a little contempt for theperson making themselves at home in his palace. Though she had been here manytimes before, she had been invited, when Ao Kuang wanted something. Now, she’dshown up seemingly wanting something.

“I wanted to see you and your son! I haven’t seen you sincebefore he was born, and I wanted to see what all of the fuss is about.Everyone’s having babies Ao. It’s astonishing. Susano and Nu Wa have had alittle boy. Everyone’s raving about Osiris and Isis expecting. And there wasthat scandalous affair with Hades-.”

“Ugh. Why do you always insist on lying about your trueintentions? I know you’ll reveal them eventually.”

“It’s called teasing, Ao. Does it not turn you on?” Dajishifted in her seat, raising an eyebrow.

“I find that it irks me,” He turned away.

“Good. You’re so hot when you’re mad,” She cooed, clearly exaggerating.“But seriously, why is everyone having babies? I’d like to say I feel left outbut it sounds like there’s way too much hassle involved. Especially with Isis;the Egyptians are all over her.”

“Good time to have them, I suppose,” Ao Kuang reliedquickly, still wanting Daji to reveal why she was here.

“Hardly Ao, not with every pantheon about to snap.”

“Oh, please,” He rolled his eyes at her continued over-dramatization,“The Greeks have always hated everybody because they think they’re the oldest.It doesn’t mean Zeus is going to let Ares out of his cage anytime soon.”

“Have you been living in a cave Ao?”

“Daji, I’ve been around a lot longer than you. Things havealways been this way; The Japanese are quiet because they have their ownproblems, as do the Mayans: Ra’s old and soft which makes the rest of hispantheon much the same: The Greeks and the Romans have always been divided butno one’s asserted their dominance quite yet: The Norse are cocky and rightlyso, being the most prepared for an attack; The Hindu’s still have their ownworshippers so they don’t need a war to prove themselves. It’s all petty anduntil someone gets a real problem, everything will remain stagnant.”

Daji chucked, “Not for long,” She chimed.

He sighed, “Daji, I’m telling you-.”

“And I’m telling you, things are going to change.” Suddenly,her delicate voice was stern and her smile had almost disappeared.

“And how, pray tell, do you know that?” Ao Kuang’s voice wasas stern as hers, slightly hushed, aware that he may not supposed to know whatshe might say next.

“I may be pretty but I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were.”

“Oh, I know! I’m well informed is what I’m saying.”

“And well involved I suspect.”

“Clever.” She flitted over to him, settling herself on hislap gracefully in contrast.

Ao Kuang took a breath and gently placed his hands upon herbody with her aid. He dared not resist. Taking a deep breath, he spoke softly,“What’s your involvement in all of this?”

“I haven’t done anything! Well, nothing unusual. Justwaiting for the soldiers that want to ‘let loose’ so I can do what I do best.”

“Soldiers. So, war?”

“Inevitable, once I do what I also do best.”

“Who have you been hired to kill?”

Daji tried her best not to swoon. He knew her far too well,“Oh, no one you know. Don’t worry.”

“Then surely there’s no harm in telling me, if I don’t knowthem,” He pried, shifting his hands slightly.

“I suppose,” She pouted, leaning in closer to him, “There’san old God, even older than you, who wants to bring about a war-.”

“Older than me?”

“Yes,” She sighed.

“Who?” He interjected again.

“Oh, some Celtic God. I can’t remember,” She blurted out,wanting to continue her story. But still, she was halted.

“The Celts have been extinct for as long as I can remember.”

“Are you sure they’re not just quiet?” Ao Kuang tilted hishead in recognition and finally shut up. “Anyway, I’ve been hired to kill thembefore they do whatever it is they want to do. But, I know better. There willbe no peace even if they’re gone; their pantheon will retaliate.”

Ao Kuang paused and then asked, slightly fearful, “Youthink?”

Daji was quick to pick up on his worry, “What’s wrong?” Shehopped off of his lap, so she could look him in the eye, but he wouldn’t faceher. He frowned, and so did she.

“When do you have to carry it out?” He said suddenly.

“I’m keeping an eye on her. If she looks like she’s going tostrike, then so will I,” She stated plainly. Ao Kuang still wouldn’t face her,so she tucked her fingers beneath his chin and brought his gaze up, “Why youwant to know?”

He couldn’t hide the anguish in his eyes. It only worriedher; it was so unlike him to be apprehensive for anything. She waited patientlyfor him to respond, a privilege not awarded to most in her presence. His eyesdarted to the shutters that led to his son’s room. Taking a deep breath, hefinally spoke, “Stall for as long as you can. If she makes a move, try todisrupt her.”

Daji forgot that she was holding her breath as he spoke.What he was asking was completely out of her control. She was not trained inespionage; she was a messy assassin. Clearly, he was worried for the safety ofhis son, understandably, though it was a little irrational while Ao Bing hadnever even met her target. Alas, she reassured him, “No harm, will come to himAo Kuang,” Her voice firm, “You and I will both make sure of that.”

He shook his head, grabbing her shoulders gently but with ajolt, anxiety gripping his body, “No, I-. Thank you. I mean I want him to havehis childhood, entirely innocent and filled with only joy.” He caught her nodher head, a feel of respect about her movement. His body relaxed. As long as heknows that I’ll try, Daji thought. He continued, “I don’t want war, not yet.”

“Not yet?” Her tails quivered.

“Not yet, no, but soon. Eventhen, it won’t come soon enough; the world needs to be rid of certain entities,”His eyes spied an incoherent spot in the room that was missing a pillar.

Author’s Notes

I might actually have fallen in love with Daji. Is it badthat I ship her with Ao’ now?

Hope you enjoy @art-love-videogames! I certainly did whilstwriting this!

Please give this story a like and reblog if you enjoyed it! It really helps me out! Thanks for reading!

#smite #smite fanfiction #smite fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #daji #ao kuang #ao bing #request #smite blogs #smite community #puch it fics

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deactivated4179291 · 8 years ago

Text

Star Crossed - Part 17 (H.S AU) - “I Scream..You scream”

Maddie’s POV

I had seemed to be lost in my thoughts as Harry emerged from downstairs – though I didn’t know it until he and Robin finally snapped me out of it. I was lost thinking about if what happened in my dream could have possibly been real in any way. So there I sat, on that couch, elbows digging into my thighs while my head rested between my palms as I stared blankly ahead.

“Maybe we should pour water on her head,” I heard Robin say.

“Hmm, tempting, but no, she seems like she’s thinking ‘bout something important,” Harry’s deep voice cut through the hair. When I pulled myself out of it I looked up to find Harry staring at me intently.

When they realize I’m now listening he pulls the look off of his face and instead looks concerned.

“You’re alive!” Robin shrieks throwing her arms around me, “Thank you, God! I thought you weren’t gonna make it until tomorrow!”

“What’s tomorrow?” Harry asks, raising a confused eyebrow.

“Tomorrow, my little sister will be ten-years-old,” I say smiling at him. Robin blushes hiding her face in my neck. For a girl who sure loved having an entire room's attention, she was always super shy about her birthday.

“So what do you want to do for your big day, little bird?” I ask her twirling a strand of her hair in my finger while she sits on my lap.

“I just wanna spend the day with my two best friends,” she says with a sweet smile, grabbing mine and Harry’s hands. My heart melts at her sweet words, and I don’t think Harry could be smiling any brighter right now. He reaches out his free hand and pokes her nose, making her giggle. She stands up on the couch so that she can be at his height as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“I love you, Hazza,” she says hugging him tightly. He looks caught off guard for a moment before his dimples return in a smile as he sways her gently from side to side with his large hand on her back.

“Love you too, little one,” he smiles.

After dinner, Robin, Harry, and myself all cuddled on the couch in the screening room to watch some movie about little yellow creatures called minions. I didn’t really see what the fuss was about, really, but I found my boyfriend snickering at the childlike jokes along with my sister. Boyfriend… I like the sound of that too. He catches me staring at him and raises an eyebrow to ask me what’s wrong. I shook my head to say “nothing,” with a small smile. Nothing could possibly be wrong in this moment, Harry.

As the movie drew to a close, Robin was sent upstairs to get ready for bed, while Harry and I cleaned up the mess we had made with our viewing snacks. Once everything was nice and neat, I grabbed my laptop from the living room and plopped back onto the couch. I couldn’t stop thinking about my dream earlier today – and how it all felt so sickeningly familiar.

“You coming, love?” Harry asks from the bottom of the stairs, tilting his head in the direction of his room.

“I’ll be up soon, I wanna look something up, real quick,” I pressed a smile. He looked curious as he reluctantly nodded and climbed the steps one at a time, walking towards his room.

I began researching news from March 9th, 2006, in Adelton. Hits for newspaper articles regarding current events appeared on the screen, in order by date. The most common event that was covered seemed to be a statement issued by the government the next day, regarding “missing persons” in the area. I read a quote from the mayor where he spoke at a press conference in one particular article – “As you all know, just before sunset last night, many men and women seem to have disappeared. While we currently don’t know why these citizens are no longer among us, we want you all to know we are doing our best to investigate the circumstances and bring your family members home.”

I backed the page to the original search results, and kept scrolling, to find a link to a video on the same day of the press conference. There stood the major, once more, preaching before his town.

“Today, we honor the families of those that have vanished, by ringing the city bell for each of our lost.” The video goes fuzzy, and the audio can’t be heard and when it comes back into focus, to a woman screaming at the major, being pulled away by security. She’s in such a hysteric state that you cannot make out what she’s yelling as she’s hauled away, but one word seems to fall clearly from her mouth…

Cusp….what the hell was a cusp? I suck in a sharp breath and close my laptop, going upstairs to bed. When I open Harry’s door, he reaches over and turns the floor lamp on.

“ ‘s that you, love?” he mumbles against the pillows.

“Ya, it’s me,” I sigh, stripping down to my underwear, while he makes room for me to slide into bed.

“Are you alright, love? You seem bothered by something,” he murmurs.

“Ya, I’m just tired,” I sigh, cuddling into his chest.

“Goodnight, love,” he says clicking the lamp off.

“Goodnight, boyfriend,” I smile, before falling asleep.

When I woke on Robin’s birthday, Harry was nowhere to be seen. I lifted my head to the sound of her laughter echoing downstairs and threw the duvet off my body, pulling my clothes back on. I all but dragged myself towards the stairs with the groggy feeling weighing my mind but stopped before stepping down when I heard Harry’s voice.

“D’ya think she’ll like it?” he asked.

“I hope so because it’s too late now,” Robin giggled in response.

“Gee, thanks, little one, that makes me feel so much better,” He shot back sarcastically making Robin laugh once more. I didn’t understand what they were talking about until I had reached the bottom of the steps and noticed something very different about my boyfriend…

“Harry?” I called out, watching him stiffen from where his back was facing me. His long, long, curls had seemed to have disappeared. Even under the white flowy shirt he was wearing I could see his muscles grow tense, then relax. He turned around slowly on his stool to face me with delay – scared of how I would react to such a drastic change.

When his full face came to view my jaw practically hit the floor. He looked incredible – the lack of long hair allowed his perfectly chiseled jawline to come to view, and his face seemed to be highlighted by the sun coming through the window in all the right places, which was essentially his entire face. His green eyes were glowing with both excitement and anticipation.

“D’ya like it?” He asked with a nervous toothy grin as I stepped closer reaching out to run my fingers through it. He slumped nervously, still unsure of my answer. “Soo…is that a yes?” he asked tilting his head with a raised hand.

“For lack of more appropriate words, since my sister is here, im happy to inform you that yes, I love it. Its…it’s really hot actually,” I blink, wiping my now sweaty hands on my jeans.

“Really?” he asks, smiling smugly as he pulls me between his legs.

“What does that mean?” Robin asks.

“Never. You. Mind,” I say pointing at her as Harry laughs silently resting his head on my shoulder, nuzzling his face into my neck.

“You guys are weird,” she mutters shaking her head at us. Harry lifts his head and pecks my lips quickly enough that Robin can’t say anything to make us blush. I step closer to my sister slowly.

“You’re right,” I sigh, nodding, “we may be weird Robin, but you are ten years old!” I cheer, picking her up, I swing her around once as she laughs giddily before I place her back on the floor by her feet.

“Now, Harry and I are yours all day, so what do you wanna do first?” I ask her.

“Can we have ice cream for breakfast?!” She asks.

“I like your style, kid,” I say ruffling her hair.

“Heeyyy, I’m 10 now, I’m not a kid,” she crosses her arms over her chest.

“You are getting older,” I sigh once more with a single nod, squatting down to her height, “but you’ll always be my baby sister,” I smile with a tear in my eye. My words hit her quickly as she pulls her arms apart and throws them around my neck. “Now, go get dressed little bird we’ve got a very special day to celebrate here, we’re losing time!” I exclaim. She smiles and runs off up the stairs. I watch as her small feet carry her quickly up to the second floor, wondering how she grew up so fast.

“Well, we may be hers all day today,” Harry says, craning his neck to my ear, “but you and only you - you’re mine all night tonight,” he rasps. I stand frozen gulping silently as he smiles smugly, going upstairs mumbling that he’s going to change into something cooler since he was wearing long sleeves. I try to shake off the feeling of warmth that frenzies in my stomach with what he’s just said and go upstairs to change my clothes too.

Once we realized we didn’t have ice cream in the freezer, we all filed into Liam’s car he was letting me borrow while he was gone. Driving his range rover around made me kind of uneasy given how expensive it was, but being with two of my favorite people calmed me down. After everyone had their seatbelts on, I backed out of the driveway and drove us towards the ice cream shop. I glanced briefly over at my boyfriend taking in what he was wearing. How was it that he could wear literally anything? It wasn’t fair. As we pull to a stop at a red light, I watch the sun grace his face while he runs his hand through the front of his hair, bringing that fuzzy feeling back to my stomach.

“You’re staring love,” he smirks, blushing slightly. Robin snickers from the backseat, as my cheeks turn red. He reaches his arm up to lean his elbow against the window.

“Ya, well look at what you’re wearing, babe, what did you expect,” I snicker.

“Robin got to pick out my shirt today,” he shrugs, flicking his wrist,

“don’t be jealous, ‘s not your birthday, and- wait…what did you just call me?” he smiles proudly.

“What?” the light turns green, and I slowly push the gas pedal down, “I didn’t call you anything!” I scramble shyly.

He whips his head behind his seat to Robin, “Robin, did she call me something?” Robin is a giggling mess at this point.

“She called you babe.” She smirks proudly. These two…I swear.

“I think she did didn’t she,” he nod enthusiastically.

“Is there an eject button on this thing?” I play around with the radio buttons, accidentally turning it on. Harry leans forward and laughs with my sister at my flustered state.

“No, but seriously do these cars have eject buttons?” I ask, growing frustrated, as I bring the car to another halt.

“Aw, love don’ say tha’ ,” he pouts, “I liked it,” he winks. I play along – ignoring him to see what else he’ll say. “Love, don’ ignore me,” he fake pouts again, “ ‘m gonna cry if you don’t look a’ me,” he sing-song fake sniffles.

“Ya, right,” I roll my eyes sarcastically. I see him think for a second before grabbing his water from the cup holder, as he tilts it on his face to create fakes tears and they roll off his face into his lap, looking at me again continuing his adorable little charade.When he realizes I’m still ignoring him he steps up his game even further, till I crack a smile.

“Why won’t you look at me?! I’m really upset!” he yells, over dramatically, and Robin can barely breathe in the background.

“You’re such a dork,” I shake my head laughing, pressing down on the gas again.

“Did ye see that?! I made her laugh Robin!” he chants pumping a fist in the air. “Ya know wha’… no, I’m gonna need a li’l more than that, ‘m a bit of a narcissist,” he states, puckering his lips together.

“Harry, I’m driving!” I chuckle. I turn into the parking lot belonging to the giant soft-serve of a building, also known as Twistee Treat, or heaven on earth. Robin squeals, undoing her seatbelt, swinging her door open. Harry turns not so subtly to see if she’s looking, before turning to me with a knowing smile, flashing me his dimples as he leans in to kiss me, tilting his head to plant one on me properly before he flings his own door open, smiling.

“Come on, guys! Hurry up!” Robin shuffles in place like she has ants in her pants. We cross the parking lot towards the ice cream venue, and I feel Harry take my hand, intertwining our fingers. It’s become his instinct- to be looking at me, talking to me, touching me in some way at all times. It made my heart beat rapidly against my ribcage every time, but I never wanted it to end whenever it happened.

Robin ended up conning me and ordered two ice creams but I didn’t mind – it was the kid’s birthday after all. I was also fast enough to pay for it before Harry could, knowing he wanted to. He always wanted to. I didn’t order anything but once we all sat down and the two of them started eating Harry made it pretty clear we were sharing his ice cream. Robin somehow finished all of her ice cream, which means it was time to hop back in the car. Goody.

“Alright, now what birthday girl?” Harry asks turning to look at her.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs.

“You don’t know?!” Harry laughs at her “What’ya mean ye don’t know?!”

“Can we go to the park?” she shrugs. The park.

“Honey, Mommy and Daddy can’t go to the park.”

“Maddie?” Harry snaps me out of my flashback.

“Uh, ya, the park it is,” I smile, putting the key in the ignition.

“Well, I’ve got to say I think this is the only party I’ve been to with no bloody music,” Harry announces turning on the radio. Before I can object he and Robin are singing loudly to the music- Harry making funny faces to add to Robin’s laughter, and dancing like a dad. He was gonna be a great dad someday. I wish I could see that far into the future – to know whether or not they were my children, but I’d never know until it actually happened.

#hs harry styles hs1 harry Edward styles harry styles fanfiction harry styles imagine harry styles fanfic harry styles au harry styl

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elizabeth-von-winken-universe · 8 years ago

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Rafe Adler x Reader - Treasure - Ch. 1 - Memories

You can read the PILOT here // Blue rage playlist // Twisted wonderland playlist

Hope you like it!!! Happy new year everyone!! <3 don’t hate me for didn’t update since the pilot...! UnU

Chapter 1 - Memories

I wake up at 9 am, seeing the sleepy form of Rose by my side, covered in the most finest sheets of silk. Her dark brown hair was messed through the white pillow, her breath was steady and calm, but her makeup was smeared across her face, signal that she has been crying when I wasn’t awake.

Dammit. How stupid you are Rafe.

I stand up slowly, carefully to not wake up her. I pick the robe which was on the door and cover my body with it. The house was cold but, right now, with her here, somehow it feels more warm, with life. I walk through the corridor covered with the most beautiful paintings made by Rose, details form some famous paintings that were gradually fading to a white background: the hands of the god and the man, the face of the Mona Lisa, the gentleman with the hand on his chest…. All black lines, and some splash of color here and there. I like them, so I bought them without her knew.

She must be upset. I thought as I entered the kitchen and starting to do some coffee to start the day. Then I spot Rose by the corner of the corridor, with my black t-shirt and my phone in hand.

“Someone is calling you Rafie.” She says with a sleepy voice then she yawn. “Sorry. Go back to sleep dear.” She shakes her head and I pick up the call to don’t cause chaos on the office. “Rafe Adler.” I said with husky voice as I look at her, she was sitting in one of the high chairs of the bar, resting her head in one of her hands. “Mr. Adler. It’s Luka. The outfit you asked us for that charity event….it has been…an incident with it.” Great. “And your solution is?” “We-we could give you other for free Sir—” “I don’t want another one! That was the perfect one! And you, and your employees ruined it!” I felt a hand on my back and my eyes fly to Rose, her hand was extended to me. I looked at her in confusion. “Give me the phone, please.” She says and I sighed and tell the man to wait a moment, then I give it to Rose, slightly curious. “What are you up to?” “Just trust me” she grins and go back to the bedroom and left me there picked by curiosity.Twenty minutes late she goes back to the kitchen and place the phone on the bar.

“All done.” “Mind telling me what have you done with my suit?” I asked with the most calm tone I could find. “Rafe.” She exhales. “I know you don’t like to don’t have the open hand, but, just for once, trust me, okay?” She says with fear in her eyes. I take a deep breath and count to three.

Okay, maybe some people have betrayed you Rafe, but c'mon, it’s Rose! She had seeing you worse than anyone, for god’s sake!

“Okay.” I opened my eyes and tried to relax, something difficult when things doesn’t go the way one wants.“By the way, good morning to you too young lady.” I asked, drawing a smirk on my lips when I saw her cheeks turn red.

“Sorry, good morning to you too.”

“I have a plan for today.” She looks at me with curiosity and tilt her head. “And you’re gonna like it. I assume, if you doesnt have changed so fucking drastically in two years.” I look through the big window while I take a slip of my coffee. “Want some?” She shakes her head and chuckles.

“The best friend of a business man. The coffee.” She smiles. “When were gonna leave? And in which of your cars?”

“The BMW.”

“Okay.” She was already turning to the bedroom when she realized. “I don’t have any clothes. Shit.”

“You want all of your things back?” She nods.

“But I don’t want to disturb you, neither to abuse of your hospitality Rafe.” She plays with her fingers, nervously. “I don’t want to be a problem…” Her voice was fading. Then we fall in a silence that makes memories come back.

Memories where we shared pleasurable silence like this ones, on the library, one in front of each other, books in front of us or scattered across the big table in the middle of the room, where it was the yellow rays of the sun, illuminating the place, as her with her smile. She had always her nose stuck in a book, it doesn’t seem to matter her if it was thin or thick, she always love the stories, the knowledge, the smell of old books, the dust, the high shelves.

Then it comes. like a firework, she explodes, spreading color and happiness, to a dark world.

Then comes the canvas and the brushes, the paintings, the black dust, the colors, new pencil cases and for her never is enough and she never stop

Why she must, anyway?

Her mother never like it, she said that Rose must be a doctor or something more respectable. Rose call it bullshit and her mother slaps her in front of everyone. All of us felt sorry for her, even my father, something strange, but well. That day I let her cry with me on my room, I let her sleep with me, without any disturb. No words, just her and her tears, letting herself go. And she felt better.

The next day, Sebastian have a surprise for her. The night before all the maids and butlers were cleaning the penthouse, and there was a secret for her: her paradise. I swear for God I never saw someone let it go as her did when she was there. The walls were covered with bobber, there was a big table at the end of the room, if i remember right, it was the old table that was on the dining room, on it were placed sketchbooks, brushes, paints, canvas with every size known on the table and floor, cans were placed among the other little tables and stools, also were some easels with the commons three sizes. From the ceiling were falling some led lights, the windows here big enough to let the light bathes the room in the morning. That was her palace, her place of freedom from the gasp of her mother. She wanted her to be someone respectable, she said. “A doctor, a lawyer, maybe a businesswoman. Don’t waste your youth on those stupid things my dear.” Rose proves her wrong when I found her a place for her let be known by herself in a museum. She sold three of the ten paintings, 250k in total. She was proud of herself for once. Her mother as usual, not at all. A cry spat me out of my thoughts, she was on the floor, crying. “Hey…what’s wrong?” I rush to her side and sink my knees on the floor, she clings on my neck when I hug her and her cry goes worse. “Sorry. You were right. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” I let her rest her head on my shoulder and felt the tears burn my skin like fire. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Jesus don’t cry so much or you gonna make me cry.” I hear her almost chuckle but it falls in a whimpering. “You idiot.” “Oh, I love you too.” This time the laugh left her lungs and I smile. “That’s my girl.” I kiss her head and she sighs. “Sorry to be so weak.” “Stop saying sorry all the time then.” She goes back and starts cleaning her face. I cupped her cheek and wipe away one tear that was falling, she look at me with tired eyes, a broken soul inside of them. “And smile please.” I stand up and give her my hand to help her up. “You know what? You need a day to relax, just to yourself and do the things the girls do…” I turn around and pour some coffee to her, letting the mug on the counter. “Things the girls do?” She smiles and close her eyes when her hands cover the mug. “And what are does things?” “Hair, manicure, pedicure, shopping, buying makeup, you know that stuff.” “Yeah, stuff.” She slips the coffee and let out a moan. “Hot. Jesus!” I laugh and she gives me a death stare. I give her a “wait a moment” signal with my hand while I’m marking a number on my phone. I make an appointment for her at the beauty salon near here and she looks at me with wide eyes and open mouth. The appointment were at 11:30 am, both of us look at the watch on the wall: she had plenty of time to be ready and there. “You better hurry.” I smiled. She left with the right time. It will be a complete session of hair, nails and face.

While she had been treated like a queen, I pick the keys to her apartment, there she lived with that guy, what was his name? Oh yes. Michael. I phoned to one of my bodyguards and tell him to bring a couple of vans and at least, five persons. I had planned this all the night before: bring her things back here, and arrange two rooms just for her, one bedroom with a dressing room and a private bathroom, also, an art studio at the best room of the apartment, where it enter a lot of natural light.

When I arrived at the apartment she had been living, it almost make me puke at how horrible it was. It was dirty, the garbage was scattered through the whole street, and the place was almost intimidating. Gabriel, my personal bodyguard, was there with seven men and one woman, Micaella, the best lawyer you could afford if you were rich.

"Mr. Adler." All of them greet me and I swing the keys on my fingers. "Let's get started ladies and gentlemen." I said as I opened the front door. Two remain there, the rest passed behind me.

I opened the door with the number 12 on it, there I found him, lying on the sofa, bottles of beer and various alcoholics drinks were around him. Also a girl, maybe a harlot, was by his side, almost naked. He wakes up, starlet by the sound of my fist when it met the little table on the living room.

"Oh. Sorry I wake you up." He looks at me with wide eyes covered with fear. "W-what are you doing here!?" "Oh, you remember me!” I grinned. “Good. Well... You see, I think you talked to her yesterday, and she told you she wanted her things back, am I wrong?" I whisper, between our faces are mere inches and he shakes his head. "How do you know it?" "Oh, you weren't talking with Rose." I smiled and a glimpse of angriness cross his face. "What do you want?! I don't have nothing valuable to you!!" "Actually yes. Rose's things. I want everything back. Do we have a deal? Or not?" He nods frantically, sweat covering his face, making it shine. I punch him, making the girl jolt awake and scream. "You. Out." I point at her and she picks the covers and ran to somewhere in the house. "And you." I look at Michael again. "Please tell me you weren't cheating her with that harlot." I hissed. He smiled and laughed. "What if I did so?" I pick the collar of his shirt and throw him to the floor. "You're dead." I whisper. "But before that happens... You are going to tell me everything that is hers and then, just if I'm in a good mod, I don't make your father be fired from that work at the factory." He looked at me with fear. “You can’t!” He shouts. “You can’t do that!!” “Oh yes, I can, everything to make you pull up that ass of yours from that sofa and be a real man.” I paused. “But if you help me picking up her things, selecting what is hers, maybe, just maybe I’ll not fire him. Okay?”

Finally, he agrees and start helping the guys and I to collect Rose’s things. Her clothes (those from him were thrown to the garbage), books, furniture, art supplies... Something that surprised me a lot, is that when we were picking the photographs, I found one that makes me smile. We were together on that photo, both smiling.

It was summer, a very hot one if I remember well, she had 12 and I have 15, I already knew she liked painting, so one of my gifts were a little easel, some canvas, pencils and gouaches. To say she love them it will be little, she take care of it like it was made of pure gold. I catch in the corner of my eye the little easel with a canvas on it. The background was half black, it had traces of the pencil, around it, the black was carefully applied in a unique thick layer. The paint is still fresh, oil, oh, smart girl. The frame was very extensive, a pair or centimetres maybe.

“If the frame is thin, it means nothing to the viewer, something contrary happens if you choose a thick frame: If has presence among the wall, it didn’t confuse with it. The thick one it can only be chosen if you want to say something.”

I remember when she tells me those words on the penthouse, palette on hand, dirty and old clothes covering her body, her eyes were shining like precious stones, but those, even with all the gold in the world, all the diamonds, you couldn’t afford them, those two bigs Eye’s Tigers. She was painting the sea that time, a calm ocean, a bright sky and some background music. The penthouse was always locked: she had the key, only her. No copies. I let the photograph in the box and proceed to still collecting her things. I just hope things were going as I planned, because if it’s not, someone will pay it. After three hours, we had already finished and were heading to my apartment, on the entrance it were some people unboxing some furniture already.I go to my bedroom and toss the black jacket to the chair as I pick my phone from my pocket. I dialed her number as I looked to my watch: the appointment should have ended already. “Rafie?” Her voice was bright, happy. I sit on the edge of the bed and smiled as a fool. “Someone seems happy.” I chuckle when I hear her laugh. “Yes, I am thanks. You were right again, I needed this. But…” “What?” “There is a woman that has been following me since I left the appointment.” Seriousness filled her voice. “Oh, She is Vanessa, she is a bodyguard. She is there taking care of you since I can’t.” “That wasn’t necessary.” “It was.” I sighed. “Where are you going now?” “Buying some things…Do you mind if I use your…black card? I checked mine and it’s empty. Michel must have access to it when I was at school.” “I slip it there for that propose dear. Buy as much as you want.” “Thanks Rafe. But if you don’t mind I’m going to buy your girl a coffee.”I smiled as I stood up and crossed the chaos that is now my home.

She seemed happy. If she is, I am.

#rafe adler x reader #uncharted #rafe adler #reader #treasure

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ecotone99 · 4 years ago

Text

[RF] Horror

Horror

“The light, damn it the-”

“Absolutely snapped at me.”

“On your left.”

“Where is it?”

“On your…here I’ll do it.”

A harsh lights up on the sweaty faces of Paul and Marianne, stumbling now into their much-too bright apartment. Paul leans a shoulder against the door frame, and slides down slightly, watching his wife trip over the disassembled crib in the center of the living room. In the corner, Marianne braces herself against a leaning nightstand and fumbles with a small electric lamp until it casts a dim yellow glow up against her face, darkening the wrinkles there.

“Now?” Paul with his hand on the light switch.

“Yeah.”

Paul flicks off the overhead lights. The room, which should only ever be barely lit, appears much smaller now in the low lamplight. These long opaque shadows drape over the dusty coffee table and its books, and the sofa with its arms destroyed by cats now dead, and the pictures on the wall which Marianne does not look at. This place is full of habits. From the little ritual with the light switch, to the way Marianne tilts the lampshade by some imperceptible angle and casts her face with less offense. Even the conversations: all the same dialogue rehashed again and again, night after night, ever since some long gone premiere, when stage light did not butcher them.

Paul crosses the living room into the kitchen, this choreography instituted deeply in his legs. He feels along the wall, as if he were blind. Even if he was, it wouldn’t matter. He would find the liquor anyway.

“I’m just saying, and and and you listen to me now Marianne-“

“Do you have to be so loud?” Hand to her forehead.

“I coulda killed her, swear to god. The way she tore me up in front of all those people, I mean. She ripped me to shreds. Thought I was bleeding out.”

Somewhere in this exchange Paul has assembled the drinks. He brings out the glasses, brown liquid contesting the edges, spilling over, and staining his white cuffs. He hands one over to her and licks his finger. He has a toothpick in his mouth and it jabs upwardly as he speaks.

“I mean, thank god I’ve got a good sense-a humor right? Right? Right? Jesus Christ.”

He downs his drink in one gulp, which would be a shock if she hadn’t already done the same. She passes her glass over for a refill. This is a habit too. He pedals backwards into the kitchen, and she angles her eyes forward to the point where he stood, to the dark room that they have made of their home. She rocks her head backwards and up, examines an amoebic stain on her ceiling. The stain is brown and jaundice yellow and from when the young woman upstairs flooded their apartment last month.

Marianne had never met her upstairs neighbor until that night when the young woman answered her door in a bathrobe that could not have been hers, was too old to be hers, must have been her mother’s, and which draped white and loosely around her thin body. Her face was young, but stretched tightly over too much bone. She had bright red hair that erupted and flowed down to her shoulders. Her name was Ilana. Marianne imagined herself saying the name, though she would not dare to do so out loud. The young woman had not had her bathtub recaulked, or at least that’s what she said, many many times. She was Jewish and spoke with an affect that Marianne recognized and loved in a way she could not understand.

“I haven’t recaulked it. I really should have recaulked it. Oh god.”

She retreated into her apartment, leaving the door open as an informal invitation. Marianne stepped into the doorway, but could not bring herself further. It was too bright. There were mirrors on nearly every yellowing wall, alternated with posters of Ilana in various states of peril. Her stockinged leg emerging voluptuously, miraculously, from a pit of green, surging snakes. Backed up against a stone wall in a torn lionskin chemise, fending off a lion. In a tight red bathing suit, a dark murky hand wrapped around her leg, swimming upward from a dark undersea trench to the bright open sky only a few inches above her outstretched fingertips.

Ilana reappeared from the bathroom, and noticed Marianne staring at this one.

“Oh they’re all crap. I don’t even know why I keep them around.”

Her concentration broken, Marianne realized that she had stepped well into the bright room, and for a moment could not recall exactly why she was there. Had she tripped and fallen over something, she might have remembered. Her habits did not live there.

“I’m an actress.” Ilana laughed unconvincingly. “Or I used to be. You don’t really act in horror flicks, you know? Oh you just kinda scream a lot and wait for some fella to save ya. Pays the bills, I guess.”

Marianne looked at the girl in the bathrobe that must not have been hers.

“How old are you?” Marianne tried not to look like she was staring. She was not doing a great job.

Ilana gave her a light and airy laugh, one that she had memorized and committed to habit. It was a laugh for men, one that confirmed that she was alive and there and no more. Marianne was familiar with the laugh. She would catch herself laughing this way sometimes, mostly when no one had said anything to her in a very long time. She had first heard it from her own mother, usually at funerals. It was passed down this way. It was not a young woman’s laugh. Something horrific had happened.

“You’re very um…very beautiful.” Marianne said quietly, not quite sure even if she had said it.

Ilana turned and walked back into the bathroom. “Yeah they draw you real good for the posters.”

After she left the young woman’s apartment, Marianne did not tell Paul about the girl and the posters. He would have gotten stuck-up the way he did about people who made money that way. When he asked about the ceiling, Marianne told him about the old man who lived above them who overwatered his plants. The actress had her bathtub recaulked and there was never any more water or any reason for Marianne to see her again. In fact, Marianne never went back to that room and that girl surrounded by her performance of fear, swaddled in a bathrobe that must not must-not-must-not-must-not be hers.

Paul reappears with two glasses and sits on his wife’s lap, burying his face into her neck.

“Nearly cut my pinky off just now.”

Marianne takes a sip. She used to hate drinking, always thought it was ugly.

“I was gonna put a flower in your cup, and I uh, really this is what I did, I took one of the roses you didn’t want to bring to the party, figured they wouldn’t last too long anyway seeing how old they were when we bought ‘em and I figured you wouldn’t want them and seeing as we didn’t bring ‘em to the party and all and-and-and I thought I’d put ‘em to some good use, you know? You know? And anyway I wanted to be sweet to you. I was gonna put a flower in your cup. Oh god. But I nearly cut my whole hand off.”

He sinks deeper into her lap and she rocks him back and forth, one hand on the back of his head, and the other around the glass she raises to her lips. Their bodies together cast a round tumoral shadow growing in the lamplight, and she sips her drinks. Water drips from the ceiling.

A knock at the door. Paul slinks off of Marianne’s knee and down on to the floor, where he sinks so low that he can watch the fleas crawling up errant stalks in his carpeting. Marianne lets him fall, knowing that her husband’s abject horror had never been a dependent sign of anything concrete. He would go into convulsions when the sun went down. His fear was as constant as his drink, which he still had in his hand, and which Marianne kept her eyes on, fearing too that if she were to look up at the door that someone, or something, would be knocking. Another knock. Marianne rises, knocking Paul to the floor, where he reaches up a hand that grasps nothing. He looks up at her, every essential part of him failing to see her there.

As she crosses the room, Marianne tries her best to tidy up for a guest, picking up tiny pieces of broken glass and flower, dragging the child-sized mattress frame to one corner of the room, and flicking on the overhead lights before opening the door.

The girl has changed drastically over the month. Her gown has many holes in it, and falls gracelessly off her arms like the feathers on a waterlogged bird. Marianne hardly recognizes her but for her eyes, which are still full of something impossibly wide, red, angular and glowing.

“Mind if I come in? Landlord’s running over with the key. I locked mine in my room if you can believe it. God what a night. I’ll die if I don’t get any sleep.” Marianne makes way for the young woman, who walks into the room like she would on to a set, only with a slight hobble to her step. Marianne would remember it as a fine performance.

His eyes still adjusting to the light, Paul squints at the young woman crossing towards him. It would be too much to say that he recognizes her, only that she makes him very afraid. He wishes he were a bug. He raises his glass.

“How do you do, miss?”

Paul smiles widely and notices the sweat on his forehead for the first time that night. He spreads his arms out, revealing the fraying undersides of his jacket. The girl can see right through to his undershirt.

“You’ve come to get me? I suppose.” He laughs wildly, spilling his drink everywhere. “Well I’m not going out without a fight. No you’ll have to drag me out of here. God.”

But Marianne is already guiding the girl to the kitchen.

“If you were good, you’d shut up. Come on dear. Let me get you something to drink.” Marianne says, leading Ilana into the kitchen.

The women gasp at the carnage. Wet whitish-pink rose petals cling to every piece of linoleum, some peeling and falling off the counter and on to the floor or into the sink. The stems still float in the vase on the counter, though they’ve been drowned, the skin bursting blackly with edematous swelling and lesions. There are petals in every cupboard, and in every drawer. The window above the sink is open, the pus-yellow curtains clinging to the humid windowsill, which is covered in leaves. There is blood too. She could never convince her husband that flowers could be overwatered, that in fact it was the over-caring, the nurturing element, that could kill them. She will never forgive him for that.

Ilana reaches down to the floor to pick up a piece of glass, but Marianne snatches the girl’s wrist, smiling too widely for it to mean anything at all really.

“Sweetheart you’ll hurt yourself. You don’t worry about that. I’ll clean it up. I would just like to…what would you like to drink? We have milk, I think.”

Ilana smiles at her. Marianne tried not to notice the lines on her face.

“What is your husband drinking?”

Marianne can feel her smile faltering, a weight dragging it down. Her eyes fall to the young woman’s breasts, though her gaze penetrates to the blood-stained floor beneath her. Marianne does not break character. In fact, she saves the performance, keeping her smile drawn end-to-end across her face. She reaches up for a glass, and hands it to the young woman, before reaching over the sink and drawing the curtains closed.

submitted by /u/Mcturkey [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/3eHQxrv

#Blogger #Story

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exikat · 7 years ago

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Would It’ve Been Better?

An original short story by yours truly! Takes place in the Fight For Life universe (my own creation)

Enjoy!

When I was much younger, I sat in awe holding my baby brother in my lap as Pappy recounted tales from when he was much younger and able. How he survived a tragedy when he was a young child that resulted in his entire family being ripped away from him. How his adopted younger brother also survived, but was also brutally slain later on. How he grew up on the streets having gone from riches to rags and ended up becoming no more than a petty thief and how he went on an adventure with some pretty powerful people.

That last story, he never used real names. He never did. That’s why when he told my dad these same tales when he was a kid, he didn’t believe him. But deep down, I know. I know they’re true. Pappy never gave actual names to anyone in his stories, all I know is that he called the party he was part of “Boss, Blondie, and Angel.” He never talked about his slain parents or brother and sister without using some sort of way to mask that they had been murdered rather than killed by accident. He didn’t talk about his adopted brother much, but that was the one he did voice in name. Xilan. That’s who my brother is named after. This was the only one of the stories that Father believed since Pappy could provide a name.

Pappy told of his misadventures on the streets and with his party along the way, how he had become best friends with Boss and Blondie while Angel was kind of strange but he liked her anyways. Because of all of the wonders he filled my mind with, I’ve wanted to become an adventurer for a majority of my life. I wanted to be a knight too, so I ultimately decided I wanted to be a one woman militia or a mercenary knight. There probably wasn’t any “mercenary knights” in existence but I wanted to be one anyways, they sounded cool in my head! Kinda stupid, huh?

I peered my head into the library where both of my grandfathers sat, showing my brother a photo album.

“Hey, Pappy?” I called, causing him to glance up, his strange long hair framing his face.

When I say strange, I mean strange. His hair is stiff as if he had put some sort of product in it, like, if you grabbed the base of a section of hair and made it stand up, the entire lock of his long hair would stand along with it like, really big spikes. He refuses to say why though.

“Ah, hello Aya my dear. I haven’t seen you all day, where have you been?” He asked me and I shrugged.

“I’ve been around… Anyways, I wanna ask you something.” I told him as I stepped further into the room. He blinked, tilting his head the slightest bit.

“And whatever might that be?” he asked, leaning forwards a little to stare me in the eyes. Gramps and Xilan listened silently in anticipation awaiting for my response while Pappy stared me in the eyes. I took a deep breath and told them.

“I want to become a knight.” I had subconsciously straightened my posture as I stared at them.

I was asking Pappy because he knew what it was like to fight and roam around the country, though I was half expecting him to shoot down the idea like my father does every time I bring stuff like that up with him. Pappy however, simply grinned.

“Oh? But you’re only eighteen. The legal age for anything within the military or protection is nineteen you know… At least here in Saonoka anyways. In Tolo it’s twelve.”

My eyes widened the slightest bit.

“Really?! That young?!” I asked and he simply laughed with a nod.

“Indeed that young. You remember how I told you about Boss? She was from Tolo. She joined around that age and was second in command of the army by fifteen.” He told me matter ‘o factly.

“Pappy now that’s just unrealistic!” I replied with a huff, he put his hands up in defence.

“I couldn’t make this up if I tried, child.”

After a little while longer of talking, Pappy agreed to allow me to become a knight when I turned twenty, which was too long to wait but I got there eventually...

I stood there, staring up at a relatively new looking building despite how long it’s been standing here in Saonoka. Pappy told me a story of how there was supposed to be a castle underneath this one, but he had never seen it himself. Boss and Blondie had apparently been there before! He didn’t know all the details though…

I ended up not becoming a knight, but a plain ol’ Mercenary instead. I’m twenty three and have already made a pretty big name for myself, taking on any quest big or small from slaying dragons to fetch quests. The reason I was here today was because I had been summoned. From the rumors I heard, my client looks rather young for her age for sixty eight, three years older than Pappy. I steeled my nerves as I stepped through the gates and was promptly escorted to the main room. A lovely looking woman with slightly greying raven colored hair, dark skin, and azure eyes looking quite distressed greeted me as I walked in. When she saw me being brought in, she stood up. There is no way she could be my client, she doesn’t look older than forty!

I bowed and as she approached,

“Stand.” Her voice was soft and soothing, so I complied, my back becoming as stiff as a board. “So you’re the mercenary I’ve heard so much about, hm?” She asked me, a kind smile on her face. Now that she’s much closer I can see a few more wrinkles which add a bit to her age appearance, but still pretty youthful looking for who she is.

“Indeed, I am Aya Lukar, Mercenary and next head of the Lukar family.” As I said my suriname, I noticed a bit of light come into her beautiful blue depths.

“Ah, so you’re Eric’s granddaughter? He’s written so much about you.” She told me, I could only raise my eyebrow in questioning, but she did not elaborate more on the subject. Sure Pappy was of a noble family, but why did she of all people bother to remember him?

“I’ve called you here today because I have a mission for you.” Her expression became grave as she spoke, “My grandson has been stolen away by a dragon.” She told me, I blinked, and was about to speak when she suddenly continued. “It lives all the way on the far side of Tolo and I’ve already gotten permission to send someone to retrieve him, but nobody has been brave enough to go.” She added, worry for her grandson even more prominent. “So I beg of you, will you go rescue him? He meant the world to my son, daughter in law, husband, and I.” Meant…? As in past tense? … Oh yeah, the two before her were her brother and sister in law who both died in their sleep a long while ago, her husband, and the former head mage, had been practicing magic when something exploded and he went missing and was later assumed dead, her son and daughter in law had a carriage accident when her grandson was a baby so he doesn’t even remember his own parents. All he has left is his grandmother, and vice versa. I nodded in response to her request.

“I’d be happy to fulfill your request.“ I replied with no hesitation as I gave my brightest smile.

“Ugh, I never knew going across two countries would be this grueling!” I whined as I plopped down under a tree, doing my best to catch my breath. I was too used to Saonoka’s ever changing climates, things changed rapidly there, but being in a hot, muggy, sunny climate for this long isn’t something I’m used to. I had been traveling for five weeks to make it here, and i could see my final destination up ahead. A cave. Funny how all the stories of girls being stolen away involve abandoned castles and towers, and the one time this happens to a boy, he’s brought to a cave? Well… At least there’s no stairs.

I reached the gaping hole in the side of the mountain, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. It smelled like the sea and burning in here to be honest. In the darkness I could just barely see the body of a giant breathing creature asleep, it’s head was facing my way and it’s burning hot breaths heating my skin. In it’s paws however I see the body of a man, he looked as if he was being hugged by the sleeping dragon… Wait, no, he was. It was indeed using him… as a teddy bear. Wow, something I never thought I’d see. I approached him, he seemed to be sleeping, but alive, he had scruffy black hair and slightly dark skin. Not like his grandmother’s, but not as pale as I had seen his grandfather being. I lightly shook him.

“Hey.” I whispered. Slowly his eyes fluttered open. He had heterochromia? That’s odd. One eye was a pale bluish gray, the other was a vibrant bloody red.

Instead of looking glad or relieved, he looked rather annoyed.

“What took you so long?!” He whisper yelled at me, taking me by surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been here for I don’t know how long being used as a comfort object by a dragon, you’d better have an explanation as to why you hadn’t been here to get me sooner!” Wow. Rude much? Just who the hell does this guy think he is?! Just because he’s important doesn’t mean he can sass his rescuer like that. I narrowed my eyes drastically at the raven haired man before crossing my arms over my chest.

“I see that you don’t actually need my help, sir. If you did you’d be more grateful.” I shot back, raising an eyebrow, he looked furious.

“Fine, fine. Just get me out of here, this thing is too much of a hugger.” He hissed. I smirked.

“What’s the magic word?”

“... Please.”

“Okay~” I moved forwards silently and helped him unclasp the dragon’s taloned feet from around his torso. He was well built, kinda thin, and had that princely air to him when he wasn’t being snuggled to death by an affectionate fire breathing reptile. We managed to make it out of the cave together with no actual conflict… It was anti-climactic, I kinda wanted to have an epic fight with the beast, take it’s head as a trophy and all, but that would’ve endangered him and as much as I wanted to, then I would’ve committed treason and then there would be complications to my career and I really didn’t want to deal with that… You don’t know pain until morality conflicts with convenience.

I watched as the man slumped down in camp, releasing a small sigh of relief.

“Dragons are quite troublesome when they act similar to a cat, you know.” ‘he grumbled in annoyance before looking pointedly over at me. “... I suppose I owe you thanks. What is your name, girl?” You could smell the snootiness wafting off of this blue blooded brat as he looked over me with a judging gaze.

“My name’s Aya... Aya Lukar.” I replied. He nodded.

“I’m Zero Ciel Skalata.” He told me with a shrug.

“Why two last names?”

“My grandparents combined their last names during marriage and that was passed down to my father.” He explained in a matter-o-fact manner, puffing out his chest a little.

“Well then. I hope you’re prepared to walk back home.” I told him, beginning to turn to look at the fire. It had already grown dark.

“Of course I am. I am of Tolonian blood so I was built for hardship. You’d better keep up girly.” Was… was he trying to make himself look good? If so, he was failing miserably. This only worsened my view of him.

Days dragged on and on, he was surprisingly quiet and complicant the entire time though. That was a pleasant surprise for someone who was so cocky about his abilities, odd as well but nice.

“Aya.” He spoke up about three days into our journey back to Saonoka. It was nightfall and we sat by the fire.

“Mhm?” I hummed in reply, glancing up from the dirt where I was just scribbling random stuff. He looked more curious than usual.

“You mentioned some stories that your grandpa liked to tell… Mind sharing?” He asked, tilting his head the slightest bit.

“Oh? And where does this come from so suddenly?” I asked in a teasing manner. I had learned that doing that usually set off the raven haired man, but not today.

“I just want to know something. My grandmother tells me stories from back in the day as well, so I’ll share one of hers if you tell me one of his.” He offered. I gave a sigh and thought for a moment.

“Well… There’s plenty. Like when he met Boss and Blondie, his childhood, his brother and their thieving ways.”

“... Is his name Eric?” I looked up before nodding.

“Yeah. Lord Eric Lukar of Nokima.” I responded “How’d you know? He’s one of the lesser known nobles.” I asked, though Zero began… laughing?

“Oh boy is Grandmother gonna find this funny.” He said.

“What? Find what funny?” I asked, lost and confused by his words. He calmed down a little and looked at me with knowing eyes.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know~?” He asked, and I huffed a little, I didn’t have the energy to get it out of him today.

A few days later, we arrived in my home city of Nokima. It was still kinda being rebuilt but it was still home.

“Wow, haven’t been here in a long time...” I said aloud. Zero glanced over at me,

“You live here?” He asked. During our journey he had grown much more friendly and less in your face about his position. It’s kinda weird not having him insult me every five seconds but nice nonetheless. I led him to the rebuilt Nokima Manse and knocked on the door with the knocker in a specific pattern to let my family know it was me. Almost immediately I heard someone fall down the stairs, scramble up, and open the door, and there stood my idiot little brother who pulled me into a hug.

“Aya!” He chirped.

“Hey Xilan.” I told him, patting his head lightly. Almost immediately, his green eyes locked onto the prince who backed up a little under my brother’s stare.

“... Care to introduce me?” He asked

“Ah, yeah. Zero, this is my little brother Xilan, Xilan, this is Zero. I had to rescue him from a dragon.” Xilan narrowed his eyes before looking to me

”I’ll go get Pappy.” He told me, rushing off. I lead the man inside the manse and he gazed around the room, though bit back any rude comments he may have had about my home.

“Ah, welcome home dear.” My Pappy made his way into the room, Xilan in tow. Zero’s eyes lit up for a moment.

“Wow, you look the same as how grandmother described you, milord!” He said.

Pappy blinked before looking elated for a moment.

“Aw, does she still talk about me? That’s nice to hear, it really warms an old man’s heart.” He gave a kind smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you your highness, Boss’ written frequently about you in the past.” He told him, my eyes widened,

“Wait, ‘Boss’?” I asked, earning my Pappy’s attention and he simply nodded.

“Indeed. Boss is his grandmother. Terrifying woman but really nice once you know her.” Pappy told me.

“Why didn’t you just say outright that she was the queen?!” This got Pappy to laugh,

“My dear… Would it’ve made it a better story?” He asked, his eyes crinkling as he smiled widely before turning to speak once again with Prince Zero.

That is literally the only thing that ran through my head for the last long while.

#fight for life #Aya and Zero #short story #another thing i did for advanced creative writing #tbh I love Eric and Fleur so much that I kept them alive #poor archard tho

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