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tanyawritesstories · 3 years

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Frozen Miracles | The Mandalorian x reader

My first Din piece! I wrote this awhile ago before season 2 ended and only now am publishing it. Hope you enjoy 😊

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, detailed descriptions of birth, Din frustration, the child isn't chaotic for once

•••

He stood watching the Krayt Dragon meat roast, waiting for Peli to get done talking to his informant. He shuffled around impatiently, watching as the child stared longingly at his dinner.

Needless to say, Din was frustrated. The only lead he had on finding others like him had evaporated the second that marshal removed his helmet. He knew immediately that all the time and energy he spent getting to this point was a waste. By the end of that journey he had: saved a community, restored peace between cultures, slain a dragon, and acquired the imposter’s armor to return it to it’s rightful owners. It was by no means an unsuccessful mission, it just wasn’t the outcome he expected.

He was snapped out of his reverie by Peli shouting at her droid. She approached, telling him about the nearby covert within the sector. He absorbed her words, committing them to memory and hoping that this lead was more promising.

“I just have one favor to ask,” Peli added. Din merely turned his head towards her to show he was listening. “There is someone who needs a ride off this planet.”

His hands returned to their place on his hips, “What’s that gonna cost me? I’m not a taxi service.”

“I know, I know,” she said, “But they’re willing to pay you to take them to the nearest civilized planet.”

He sighed softly, looking at the ground. “What’s the catch?”

“No hyperdrive.”

His helmet snapped to look at her. “No, that’s a deal breaker. Hyperspace is the only thing keeping me safe. I can’t do it.” He gestured.

Peli sighed right back, putting her hands on her hips. “Look, the nearest habitable planet isn’t far away. Surely you can manage that? They won’t be difficult.”

“Why no light speed? What’s the reason for it?”

Peli turned and beckoned whoever this passenger was to come out from her office. Din didn’t know what he expected but it certainly wasn’t who came walking into the hangar.

A woman stepped out into the sand, looking cautiously at the two of them. She looked young, quite a bit younger than him. She was dressed in tan clothes, a floor-length skirt and a poncho that looked a few sizes too big, it hid the outline of her frame and made her look like she was drowning in the clothing. A thin sheet of cloth was draped on top of her head, falling over her shoulders like a veil, tied loosely under her chin, leaving her collarbone exposed and some of her hair visible.

Peli waved her over and the young woman slowly approached. Peli put her arm on the woman’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Her husband died eight months ago and she wants to get off Tatooine and start over somewhere new,” she explained.

“Why me? There are transports that can carry passengers,” he replied.

“She doesn’t trust them and she said you seemed safe,” Peli answered for the woman, who still hadn’t spoken a word.

Din’s silence left an unspoken question lingering in the air. What makes her think I’m safe? The woman seemed to sense this and began signing with her hands, using hand signals that Din could decipher.

I’ve read about Mandalorians before, and you have a child. You seem trustworthy.

“She says you seem trustworthy because you have a child with you,” Peli translated, “And she’s read about Mandalorians before.”

“Why can't she talk?” He asked.

“She hasn’t spoken since her husband was killed. I’ve known her for years, she used to talk all the time, she was really happy,” Peli said, a sympathetic expression coming to her face. The young woman looked at the ground, her face was emotionless and cold. She looked void of all happiness, empty and hollow, her lips set in a straight line that hadn’t curved into a smile in a long time.

“You never told me the reason for no hyperdrive,” he restated.

Peli and the woman made eye contact and the older woman nodded to her. The younger woman slowly lifted the bottom of her poncho to expose her swollen stomach. She was pregnant.

“Hyperspace could harm the baby, even kill it. She just wants to get off this planet, too many memories of her husband," Peli explained for the woman.

Din turned away, contemplating and weighing his options. The sound of credits jingling together made him turn to face them again. The young woman held a small, worn leather pouch out to him. He took it in his hands and opened it, revealing a large amount of credits.

"How much is this?"

The woman began to sign and Peli watched in order to translate, not knowing Din already knew what she was saying.

It's 5,000 credits. It's all I have.

"Five thousand credits," Peli said, "It's all that she has left."

He looked between her and the pouch of credits, closing it and tucking it into his belt. "Alright, let's go."

The young woman turned to Peli and gave her a quick hug before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

Din watched her as she disappeared within the metal hull of his ship.

"Hey."

Din turned back to Peli, who had begun gnawing on a piece of meat.

"Take care of her," the older mechanic said, "She's been through a lot. Don't get me wrong, she's tough, but that baby is the only good thing in her life right now."

He nodded, letting her know he had heard her words. He turned again to look at where she had entered his ship, wondering what he had just gotten himself into.

~~~~

He settled the Razor Crest into space and set a course to the nearest safe planet, a moon called Nexlar. Despite it being close it would still take several hours to get there, especially without the use of hyperspace.

His passenger had decided to wander down into the hull as soon as the ship was stable. He tried to stop her but it was of no use.

He climbed down the ladder and turned to face his bunk, pressing the control panel letting the door slide up.

"Kid?"

He turned around to look for the little green troublemaker, only to find him standing on a crate next to which their guest was sitting on the floor. Her back was to Mando as he watched her feed his miniature companion pieces of a juicy pink fruit. He took silent steps towards them and observed their interaction.

The child cooed and giggled happily with each morsel of food she fed him. He always ate so much, Din swore his stomach was a bottomless pit.

He watched the expressions on her face, however small they were. She didn't look as helpless or as sad. She almost looked happy and he saw the corner of her mouth twitch up when the child reached out for her.

She continued to feed him until she didn't have any more, holding her hands up to show the youngling that she was empty handed. The child made a sad whining sound, his ears drooping in disappointment and her eyebrows reacted with sadness at seeing him upset. She reached out and pressed a feather light touch to his little green cheek before picking him up and setting him down on the floor.

She must have seen Mando’s boots when she put the kid down, as she jumped back in surprise, a little gasp escaping her lips.

“Hey, it’s ok,” he said calmly. Even with him being slow and calm she still pushed herself away from him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” It took him a second to realize that she might think he doesn’t understand her. He didn’t exactly make it known that he knew her every word back at the hangar. So he took to her form of communication, signing with his hands as well.

Thank you for feeding him.

He could see the gears turning in her head through the expressions on her face. Starting on shock going to realization then to relief and maybe something akin to thankfulness.

You are welcome. I read that that specific fruit was healthy for children. She signed back.

“What’s your name?” he asked out loud. She signed individual letters until it spelled her name. “Y/N, is that right?” She nodded, the corner of her mouth turning up into a small smirk again.

“I’m going to hit the rack, why don’t you head up to the cockpit and try to get some sleep. That chair is much comfier than the floor.”

She began to get up but with most of her weight in the front she was having trouble. Din bent and reached out, grabbing onto her elbows and helping her to stand. She grunted with the effort of trying to stand while being pregnant. She held onto her stomach when she had made it to her feet, wincing in what was either pain or discomfort. Din made sure she could stand on her own before letting her go and watching to make sure she got up the ladder alright. He retrieved the child and set him down in his hammock before crawling beneath his hanging bed and laying down to get some rest himself.

~~~~

Din was woken up by the blaring alarm sounding from the cockpit. He rushed out of his bed and up the ladder, planting himself in his chair and flicking off the alarm. He turned to see the woman- Y/N - with a concerned look on her face, staring out the viewport. He followed her gaze to see the two X-wing fighters on either side of his ship. They were comming him.

He answered reluctantly, giving them the information they needed and hoping they would then leave him alone.

They didn't.

He was doing his best but wasn't good at lying under pressure. There was still some hope he could get out of this confrontation. That was until they asked about the prison.

Din forced the Crest into a dive towards the unknown planet they were currently above. He heard her gasp from behind him and brace herself against the walls. He was trying to lose them, he knew he couldn't outrun them.

"Hold on!" He said, veering towards an opening in the frozen cliffside.

He shot around the corner and disappeared into the cave, praying that the X-wings didn't see him. One of the engines hit against the side of the cave as it got narrower. He was going to have to put it down, there was no other option. The keel of the ship hit the ground and they slid, spinning until they were facing the opposite direction. Din was trying his best to get the thing under control but he was losing fast.

The Crest went over a rut in the ice and was launched several meters high before it crashed down to level ground again. Finally stopping when the stern collided hard with a solid wall of ice. They were all jolted forwards in their seats and their backs hit the chairs as it stopped.

Din rapidly hit switches and pressed buttons trying to discover the state of his ship, he got no reaction from his vessel but continued to try regardless. The woman groaned and he turned to look at her. She laid her head against the wall, her face contorted into an expression of pain. Both her arms were wrapped around her enlarged middle, her hands trembling.

The open comm crackled as the faint voices of the X-wing pilots faded out of range. Din tried more controls, failing to notice that his passenger had unbuckled herself and moved to try and check on his child.

The Crest lurched forward as the ice underneath it gave way. She stumbled and was thrown into the back of his chair, in turn making him jolt forwards. The entire ship began to move as the ice broke and soon it was falling through. Everything seemed to slow down as the Crest descended into a chasm. It hit the floor with astounding force and noise. It’s occupants were thrown around hard and the last thing Din remembered was the sound, before he was thrown forward and knocked unconscious.

~~~~

He came to, slowly moving his head a little, then his arm, then his whole body. Feeling returned to his limbs as he woke up. How long had he been out? It was freezing and frost had accumulated on his armor. He tried and failed on the controls, the Razor Crest wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

In his haste to figure out what had happened and attempts to find a solution he had forgotten about his passenger. A low groan reminded him that she was there. He turned around in the chair to see her body limp at the foot of the door. The tip of her nose and fingers were tinged a light blue and he noticed the draping had fallen off her head. Her clothes weren’t cut out for the cold, they were thin to combat the hot Tatooine temperatures, she would no doubt freeze to death if she didn't warm up soon.

He only had to take a couple steps to get to her, crouching down and shaking her gently. She opened her eyes and he grabbed under her arms, lifting her up. Even with his thick gloves he could feel how cold she was.

"You're freezing, we need to get you warm. Stay here, I'll find some blankets."

He set her down in a passenger seat and dropped down the ladder to inspect the damage. Luckily, the kid had stayed in his hammock, Din grabbed him and all the blankets he had and returned to the cockpit. She was shaking from the cold and had one hand pressed to her temple the other on her belly.

Din set the kid down in his chair and draped a blanket around the woman. She winced as she pulled her hand away from her head, blood covered her palm.

"You're injured.." he said. "I'll get a medkit, stay there." He dropped into the damaged hull once more, retrieving the medkit and crouching in front of her to check her wound.

"Let me see." He gently pushed her hand away to reveal a cut on her left temple, going into her hair. He inspected it, thankfully it wasn't deep and she appeared to not have suffered too much damage.

She pulled the thin shawl off where it fell on her shoulders and wiped her bloody hand on it. She held it out to him and motioned to her head. "Ok," he said, taking the cloth and carefully wiping away what blood he could. He cleaned her wound before applying a small bacta patch.

"That should do it," he said. He packed the medkit back up and tossed it behind him. She still looked to be in pain, now both her hands were on her stomach. "Is the baby ok?"

She moved her hands around, sighing in relief shortly after, then nodding.

Just kicking. She signed.

Before Din could do anything she took his hand and placed it on her belly. Through her layers and his gloves he could feel the small jolts from the life growing within her. There was something so intimate about it. He felt like it was something he shouldn't be witnessing, it was too personal and he was a stranger. She let go of his hand to sign.

Can you feel it? She asked with a smile.

"Yes," he answered, "that's amazing." Despite having let go of his hand, Din kept it in place, feeling as the rowdy little one settled down.

"I need to patch up the hull, I'll be right back," he bid.

I'll watch him for you. She signed, pointing to the child who was playing with a switch.

"Thank you."

Din set about fixing his ship as much as he could, it was in worse shape than he thought. What felt like a couple hours passed and he stopped to take a break and warm up inside. As he walked back around to the front he noticed footprints in the snow leading towards an opening in the cave wall. He looked inside the ship and saw that the kid was sleeping soundly in his bed, wrapped in blankets. She was the one who had left.

Din followed the footsteps into a path of ice tunnels, looking around cautiously. He touched the side of his helmet whenever he could no longer see her tracks. His HUD illuminating her imprints in thermal colors. He continued to follow for what felt like a long time, how far in here had she gone? He hoped nothing had happened to her.

That hope disappeared when he heard a yell come from further in. Din broke into a run, sprinting towards the noise. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks.

Y/N was sitting waist deep in a small pool of steaming water. She had stripped off her skirt and was only wearing her shirt which was off white and wet to above her stomach, nearly see through. She was in immense pain, her face contorted into agony. She leaned against the edge of the pool, her head resting on the cold snow. One hand gripping the edge so hard her knuckles turned white, the other on her stomach, which looked to be the source of her pain.

He rushed to her side and kneeled in the snow. "Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, looking her over frantically.

She didn't sign, just put her finger on her stomach then dragged it down and pointed out. It suddenly became obvious what was happening to her.

She was in labor.

Din tried not to panic but he was having a hard time. He had no idea how to handle this situation.

“Uh, what can I do?”

She signed quickly and her hands moved so fast and were so shaky that Din almost couldn’t understand her.

I can do this. I just need you to do one thing.

“What, what do you need me to do?”

Her response was clear.

Catch.

She shifted herself and Din helped her so her legs were pointed towards him. “Uh, um, ok. I think I can do that.” He hoped his voice didn’t come through the modulator as shaky and nervous as he felt like it sounded.

She continued to groan and shout in pain and Din wished he could do more. He hesitated to touch her but wanted to support the woman and give her strength, he gently placed a hand on her bent knee.

"C'mon, you can do this. Remember to breathe," he encouraged.

He also didn't want to look down. The water was murky but shallow and he had briefly glimpsed her lower nudity when she turned towards him. Knowing that he would have to reach down there and literally catch her child soon was making him sweat underneath his armor.

Catch, he was going to have to use his hands. He looked at his gloved hands, the gloves had been everywhere and were no doubt dirty and not safe for a newborn. He couldn't touch her with them. Din took a minute and shucked off his gloves, setting them beside him. He reached over to her pile of discarded clothes and grabbed the blanket she'd had around her, setting it between his legs to place the baby on right away.

He made sure to keep his own breathing steady as he looked down, seeing the head of the baby slowly coming through her opening. He took a deep breath and urged her on, watching in mild horror as the child came through more and more.

Din put his hands into the water and helped get the baby’s shoulder through, as she had instructed him. Part of him wished he hadn’t taken his gloves off as his hands were now coated in slimy liquids.

With a last strong push her baby came all the way out and into Din’s hands. He gasped on reflex, it was smaller than he thought it would be. He quickly raised the baby out of the water and wrapped it in the blanket. He pulled his vibroblade out of his boot, about to cut the cord. He looked to her for permission, getting a nod and a warm smile from the exhausted woman.

He broke through it, finally severing the connection between mother and child. She sat up all the way and reached out to him, Din put the babe in her arms and sat back in the snow, almost as exhausted as her.

He looked over at the woman, cradling her baby against her chest, a huge smile on her face. She looked at him, signing.

It’s a girl.

“Congratulations,” he replied.

Thank you, for everything.

“You’re welcome,” Din sighed. “What are you going to name her?”

The woman thought for a moment before looking at him with a smile.

Mandi, after you.

Din’s eyebrows raised under his helmet. “Me? Why me?”

You helped deliver her. It's the least I can do.

Din stared and she paused, both of them thinking.

I will get you more credits when I'm settled, I know this wasn't part of the deal.

He sighed again. "Don't worry about that right now, we need to get you two back to the Crest." She held her child out to Din and he carefully held the tiny girl in his arms the way she showed him. He turned his back to her so she could dry off and dress, meanwhile also becoming enamored with the baby in his arms. Her small pink face peeked through the warm confines of the blanket, eyes closed, peaceful. It all suddenly became real to him.

This was another man's child that he helped bring into the world. A tiny human that he physically saw come to life in his hands. He felt honored, this experience should have been for someone else, the man she loved. But he was gone and Din was, for now, his replacement in a life changing event. Din reached a bare hand up to touch her cheek. The newborn stirred but didn't open her eyes. He held her tighter, having a sudden urge to protect her and keep her warm and safe. She was only about 20 minutes old and already had Din wrapped around her tiny fingers. This must be the same thing that happened when he'd found his child. Almost like a kind of hypnosis, drawing him in, bringing out a side of him he hadn't known he had.

He heard a pained groan and snow crunching and swiftly turned around, finding the woman was fully clothed and had fallen. She was still recovering and her body was too weak to walk just yet, she had tried and fallen when her limbs gave out. He kneeled beside her and she held his gloves out to him. He thanked her and took the gloves, transferring the child back into her arms. He donned his gloves and tugged off his cape. Since using her blanket for the baby, Y/N was left without anything to keep her warm. Din wrapped his cape around her and picked her up like a bride, carrying her back to the Crest.

Thankfully, his own little one had stayed put the whole time but was now awake and rummaging about. Din set her down on his bed and got her more blankets. He wagered he could get some more repairs done and wandered outside again.

~~~~

The sun was going down and it was getting colder than it already was, Din stepped inside and sealed the ship as well as he could for the night. He walked to his bunk to check on his passengers. He found her laying on her side, fast asleep. Mandi laid in front of her, also asleep. He also found his own son, asleep, on the other side of Mandi. Y/N had an arm lightly wrapped around both children, each of them had ahold of one of her fingers. If it wasn't so cold, he might've melted at the sight. It was so pure, so domestic. Something he never thought he'd see in relation to him. The thought of them all belonging to him passed through his mind briefly. He knew that could never be a possibility, especially for him.

He grabbed some food for himself and made his way up to the cockpit, finally intent on eating something. As soon as he made it up there, he heard a baby crying from below. He quickly made his way back down to find Mandi crying and wiggling around in her mother’s arms. Y/N stirred in her sleep and Din carefully scooped the baby into his arms, not wanting her tired mother to wake up, she needed sleep. Din could watch the baby for a while, he could deal with his child, and he was much worse than Mandi. Din rocked the little girl in his arms until she stopped crying, which wasn’t long. He carefully climbed back into the cockpit and laid the baby in his son’s crib. He wasn’t using it right now. He rocked the floating bed and Mandi’s face softened into calm.

“There you go, all better,” he said softly. He took one hand out of his glove again and ran his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was smooth and warm against Din’s blaster calloused hands.

“You need some sleep, tiny one, so does your mother. So you’re stuck with me right now.”

Din continued to talk to the tiny girl until he was sure she was sleeping. He then removed his helmet and was finally able to eat. He was nearly finished when he turned to reach across the controls and bumped his helmet, causing it to fall and hit the floor with a loud clang. Mandi was immediately woken up and began crying. Din reacted fast and took the baby into his arms, rocking her again.

"Shh, shh it's ok. I'm here, you're safe."

Din allowed a smile to spread across his exposed face, able to see how precious she was without his helmet in the way. He simply couldn't resist the sight of this perfect little one in his arms. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Just as he pulled back, the little girl opened her eyes and looked up at him. He was shocked for a moment, this was the first time he'd seen her open her eyes and she was looking at him...without his helmet.

Din looked around to find it lying on the floor near his feet. He wondered if this was technically breaking the Creed since he knew the baby would never remember what he looked like. But nevertheless, he picked the Beskar barrier up off the floor and set it on his head. For once, he was hating having to put it back on.

~~~~

Din didn't remember falling asleep in his chair in the cockpit, not to mention with little Mandi cradled against his stomach, also asleep. He looked around, how much time had passed? He wasn't sure. He thought he heard a faint sizzling sound and his helmet enhanced his hearing. It sounded like someone was welding.

Din got up and set Mandi back into the crib without waking her up. He climbed quietly down into the hull and found the kid asleep in his hammock, but the woman was missing. The sizzling sound was louder and came in increments. Din exited the ship, following the noise to the other side of the ship. There he found the woman kneeling in the snow, tools in hand, repairing his ship. He was stunned, she had just given birth not even 24 hours ago and here she was fixing his ship, and doing a great job as well.

He cleared his throat to get her attention and she looked to him and smiled.

"What're you doing out here?"

Fixing the ship.

"I see that," he replied, "You should be inside where it's warmer."

But I can help, Peli taught me everything she knows. Let me help you.

Din sighed. If this woman was right and she could help fix the Crest then he wanted her help, but he also wanted her to stay safe. “Alright, I’ll start on the other side. If we work together we might get this done before nightfall.”

The woman nodded and got back to work, Din grabbed more tools and started on a different part of the ship. They worked, taking breaks when too cold, and made huge progress on the Crest’s repairs.

~~~~

“I think that’s all we can do with the tools we have,” Din surmised, “We need to get to a hangar and have someone finish the rest.”

The woman stood next to him, looking over their work with a proud look on her face. She had fashioned a sash out of a blanket that went across her torso, Mandi was nestled safe inside, held against her mother’s chest. Y/N also had his little womp rat balanced on her hip.

They had welded and wired everything as best as they could, and managed to patch the hole in the hull with spare durasteel panels.

Shall we get off this frozen rock now?

“That sounds good to me,” Din agreed.

They boarded the ship and Din took the kid while Y/N climbed into the cockpit. He went over the hull again before joining her, setting the kid in one of the passenger seats. He turned and saw her in his chair, flipping switches and pressing buttons. The engines roared to life and she checked out the viewport to make sure they were working correctly. He watched her as she got the ship ready for takeoff, another thing he didn’t know she could do. He was pleasantly surprised.

Over the last few days he had learned she was a great mechanic, took amazing care of both the kids, and now he learned she was also a pilot who knew her way around a ship. He put one arm on the headrest of his seat the other on his hip as he watched her expertly handle the machinery. She was just about to grab the steering handles when she stopped herself and looked up at him. She looked apologetic and began signing to him.

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I haven’t flown a ship in so long I just got excited.

She bowed her head at him and got out of the chair, taking one behind him. He chuckled. “It’s ok, maybe as we get closer to Nexlar I’ll let you pilot.” He looked back in time to see her face light up with excitement. He smiled under his helmet and turned back to get the Crest in the air.

He was able to get out of the cave and back into the blackness of space with more ease than he expected. He breathed a sigh of relief when everything held and he was able to set their course for the destined planet.

She tapped him on the shoulder and signed that she was taking the kids down into the hull to try and get them to sleep. He thanked her and watched as she climbed down the ladder, handing the child to her once she was down.

It must have only been about half an hour before he heard someone calling him.

“Mando!”

The voice was broken and strained, whoever was talking was having a very hard time with it. He turned to face the doors.

“Mando!”

A little louder. It was a woman’s voice, she was talking, calling for him. She called him again, panic in her broken and unused voice.

Din jumped out of his chair and quickly climbed down into the hull. Y/N was standing at the foot of his bunk, staring down the length of the ship. He followed her gaze to see all the storage crates and lose equipment suspended in mid air, floating with nothing holding them.

He walked to his bunk only to see his child sound asleep in his hammock. If it wasn’t him then who…

He looked at Y/N to see her concerned and panic stricken face, they both looked down at the same time. Little Mandi was awake and smiling gleefully, waving her tiny limbs around, the suspended cargo moving with her small motions.

“What’s happening?” Y/N croaked out, scared and worried about her baby.

Din sighed as the information sunk in. Not another one.

#star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #star wars

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dewitty1 · 4 years

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Draco shifts his head as he turns to look at Scorpius, his cheek touching the pillow. "Did you know that…" He pauses, his throat convulsing, and it sounds audible in the silence, besides Michael's steady, even breathing from the other bedroom.

Scorpius is staring back at him, in wait of something new to learn, a beautiful and intelligent child. He has Draco's mind. He has Draco's eyes and nose and mouth and hair. He is his. All his. All he has of Michael are his wild curls and the green of his eyes, and sometimes he looks into them and imagines that they aren't Michael's, but someone else's.

Draco leans his head closer, biting the quiver out of his lips before he breathes a laden and shuddering exhale, and he whispers, "You are my star in a big black sky." Rec post

Some other fics you might enjoy - (੭ु˙꒳˙)੭ु⁾⁾*✭

Slithering by astolat @astolat

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out. Fic RecArt post

Modern Love by Anonymous (written for H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t?

Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years.

And that’s what starts it all. Our Love Song - Harry and Draco enjoying a Sunday morning bus ride in London. Don’t miss this amazing art that pairs perfectly with this fic!

Returning Tides by Anonymous (written for H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless

Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives

Love Will Tear Us Apart - Art piece to accompany the fic ‘Returning Tides’, based on the song claim, 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' by Joy Division*****Harry's brooding while straddling a motorbike. Need I say more?

Blond Brew by Anonymous (written for H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless

A blond roast with soy milk makes Draco's morning, but a pair of green eyes makes his week.

A Different Kind of Meaning by Anonymous (written for H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless

The ceiling doesn't hold any answers, but there are cobwebs scattered across the corners with shadows tangled in their threads. The rug against his back is rough and scratchy, threadbare and devoid of colours other than various shades of brown. Harry takes it all in, absorbs the dingy and depressed state of his home. There's a pointed moment of decision, a note about to be played, a silence about to end, and then he rolls to his feet and sets to cleaning.

It's the first constructive thing he's done in years.

Isolated Thunderstorms and Scattered Showers by Anonymous (written for H/D Wireless Fest 2020) @hd-wireless

Post-war, Harry needs space. Everything is too much all at once, and time and time again, he finds himself pulling the invisibility cloak over his head, just for a bit of peace.

Returning for eighth year is hard, especially when you're considered a war hero, and your name is Harry James Potter. It's just that things go a little wonky when Harry starts following Malfoy, and finds that he can't (or doesn't want to) stop. ( Gift fic for meeeee! ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) ♡ )

Thanks so much for reading and following! I hope you enjoy all these! I look forward to sharing more recs with y’all!

xoxo Carey 💜💙💚💛🧡❤💕💖

｡ﾟ✶ฺ.ヽ(*´∀`*)ﾉ.✶ฺﾟ｡

#Fic Recs Wrap Up July 2020 #Drarry Fic recs #Drarry #Drarry fanfiction #Drarry squad #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #Drarry Smut #H/D Wireless 2020 #my recs #Carey's Personal Bookmarks #Carey's Bookmark fic recs

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ku-ro-kai · 3 years

Text

My personal headcannons

These are personal-just how I think the relationship that they were in.

Split into three categories

Warning; piss mentioned,spit mention,puking

Dabi

Soft/Fluff;

• he won't admit it but he likes when you gently caress his scars, he melts in your arms when you do it

• when you two cuddle, he hesitates on holding so he doesn't burn you

• You and him like to scare little kids when taking a stroll

• He shares his cigarette/blunt with you, it's cute to him watching you struggle with the breathing part

• You help him dye his hair on Sunday nights

• Dates are rare but he takes you out to the mountains to watch the stars

• you wonder if he needs glasses because he squints his eyes at small things

• He would be bad at aftercare at first but slowly get better with it

• I get the feeling he walks around the house naked to get you flustered

• He only let's you peg him on your birthday; in bed you once found his g-spot and he moaned so loud and came on your stomach

• He doesn't like talking about it-

• You and him have roast Sessions

He gives you silver rings with skulls/chains on them

Toxic /Yandere /Unhealthy;

•He gaslights you

•Puts sleeping pills in your food so y'all can cuddle

•Blocks people when he has your phone

•Monitors who you text and talk too

• degrades you when there’s an argument

• keeps you tied up to the bed if you think about leaving him

• dabi doesn't mind doing "it" anywhere, the thought of having it done on your parents bed turns him on

• he would have little star stickers for your tits that he'll make you wear during roleplay

• he'll overstimulate until your crying and using the Safeword, then tells you how pretty you look crying

• he's into cum play, he likes double stuffing you and if it leaks he pushes it back in with his fingers

• He would chain you to the bed and edge you til the sun comes up, sometimes he just walks out and leave you in a puddle of your own juices

• he has thoughts of you getting spit roasted by him with Hawks/ shigaraki, you caught him with a hard on when he laying down when he was thinking about it

• If you tried breaking up with him, he'd fuck you so hard and say "you'll miss this too much you won't leave,will you? "

•He 100% hates your best friends especially if you're avoiding him for them

•Facials in public

•Likes leaving you a whimpering drooling crying mess when he's done fucking you into the mattress

• Likes putting your hand on your stomach to feel him sliding in/out of you

Random/Funny;

• Dabi is annoying around you

• Y'all commit arson together

• dabi hugs you just to smell your perfume

• Takes naps on your chest so you can't get up

• Doesn't know how to play board games

• You dared him to get in a shopping cart then you pushed him down the parking lot, he fell over hitting a car

• Doesn't like fish but if you cook it for him, he'll eat it

• Lies too much

• You have to remind him to take a shower

• Eats your snacks when your not home

• Small kisses on your forehead

• You steal his hoodies A lot

SHIGARAKI

Soft/fluff

• He wears his gloves around you

• Sometimes he asks you to put facial cream on his face for his skin condition

• His showers were monthly but now with you, he takes showers every week

• He's afraid of touching you since he thinks you might turn to dust

• He plays games with you in his lap

• Doesn't involve you in any of the LOV missions

• He likes taking naps on your back when he wants to cuddle

• He let's you tie his hair during a gaming session

• You keep lip balm on hand for him

• You made him put on a catboy suit, he complained the entire time but he secretly liked it

• If he loses a game, he rants about it to you

Toxic/unhealthy/incel behavior /yandere

• Makes you be a little good cockwarmer in his lap, when he plays his games

• Let's nomu's take turns using your holes, he likes to sit in a chair from the bed, getting hard from your piercing screams

• Would turn someone into dust if they tried to get with you

• Has fantasies about you wearing frilly stockings, giving him foot jobs,

• There's days where he just makes you sit on his face for hours on end until you squirt

• This man will definitely have a piss kink, he likes receiving it or giving

• If your being a brat, he sometimes go in the wrong hole without lube or anything

• Likes spitting in your mouth, watching you swallow it makes him go crazy

• The days when he has to punish you are hard, he pulls your hair so hard afterwards you get painful headaches

• Forces you down on his cock to hear you gags, he likes going rough and hard to the point of making you puke

• Has tendencies to put all five fingers on your neck when choking you

• If you don't obey him, he makes you take all him in your mouth then makes you lick up the mess you left on the floor

• Keeps a leash on you and chains you to the bed if you try escaping

Random/funny

• he sucks at Mario Kart

• dabi and him argue so much over the last jar of facial cream

• falls out the bed a lot

• he asked for a water bottle once, you accidentally hit the back of his head with it

• Becomes clingy if you get him a stuff toy of his favorite character from a game

• Asked you to beat a level he was stuck on for while, you got way more points then he did, let's just say he never asked you to help him beat a level again

• You found a drawer that had aizawa stickers and notes on what he would say to him, if he ever were to meet him

• Puts his shoes on the wrong feet sometimes

• Gets pouty when you call him cute with pigtails

• You have to order his food when going out

• You caught him nibbling on your sweater at night

• Stares at dogs when out in public

• Always dusting the doorknobs to the bathroom

Bakugo

Soft/fluff

• Likes to cook your favorite meals

• Overprotective when deku tries to speak to you

• Has more patience with you

• When you two play fight, he's more soft

• Loves when you give him back rubs

• You wore his hero costume for laughs and giggles , he dragged you back to the room so quick

• You two have matching skull shirts

• When it's snowing, you and him have snow ball fights

• Likes making sparks to scare you

• When cuddling, he'll hold you in his arms on the couch, it's even better on rainy days

• Worries about you when your out for too long

• Buys you hair supplies if your out of them

• Your family loves his cooking

• This is cute to me, he likes squeezing your face to see you perk your plump lips

• You two give each other mean nicknames

• He makes you do his eyeliner

• His parents love you

• Would do your hair for you like braids/twist/bangs,etc

• He orders photos of you and him ever year for y'all anniversary

Toxic/yandere/unhealthy

• Leaves marks that you can't cover up

• when he slaps your ass, he makes tiny explosion beforehand

• Gaslights you

• Likes doing doggy style with a mirror facing you

• possessive of you

• Knows your passwords to all your social media accounts

• makes sure your locations on

• Branded you

• Likes to whisper dirty things he will do to you when y'all get home

I couldn’t put anymore in but I will continue 😔 HAPPY VALENTINES TO Y'ALL ❤️

#toxic headcannons #headcanon #dabi #shigaraki tomura #bakugou katsuki

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bobprometh · 2 years

Text

Camp

Finding another fire play switch girl who will run off to the woods with you was an adventure in itself.

The ladder roasting was a big adventure.

Years before, while in the Boy Scouts, I found a lake in the mountains north of Yosemite Park. It was a perfect place for some real roasting play. In the middle of nowhere, a lake for water to put out the fire, two large flat top rocks just over four foot high with an air gap over the fire. All this did not mean anything to my scout friends, but at 16 I already had hot ideas. * Many years later. The ladder would have to be wood because a metal ladder would heat up and leave marks. There was a dirt forest road just over a mile away but no trail to the lake. We carried the damn thing and a rake to the site. Then we had to go back uphill to the pick-up truck for the small tent. I was afraid about leaving the truck for two nights but had no choice. We tied the ladder down with four ropes and tent pegs. Then spent time raking away pine needles and stuff so we would not set the woods on fire. We set up camp but were too tired to play that night. We did not have a campfire that night because we thought that in feeling the real heat and flames from a fire that we might both come to our senses and not burn each other the next day. The next day we spent gathering small kindling for the roasting fire. It looked like it might rain but it did not. * Can you imagine just how scared and excited we both were? She worried that I might just let her burn all the way and I worried that if I hurt her too much over the fire that she would realy roast me all the way just to get back at me. All this waiting and planning was so very exciting and sexual that we both were trembling. We did not touch each other that first night because we wanted to save any (hopefully) orgasms for the fire. * We had planned to use rope ties to be bound to the ladder but when the time came she changed her mind. Still thinking that I might want to watch her nude body sizzle, for real. We had a lot of kindling. One large pile off to the side for adding fuel if needed. A flat line of small wood right under the ladder and a camp fire off to the far side of the ladder. The rake was going to be used to move this fire under the ladder and/or rake the fire away from under the ladder if this whole thing turned out to be a bad idea. * She climbed up on the ladder before I lit the campfire, face up. The first thing I did was kiss her. Then I moved over and lit the campfire. I returned to her and kissed her again. This time telling her that she would indeed burn for me. She stared moaning even as we both felt the first hint of heat from the campfire off to the side. I think that she started to go into subspace way too early. I knelt down and lit the small line of wood under her. I thought that my heart would pound itself outside of my chest. It was beautiful, but the flames were way too low to cause any pain except a spark now and again, which caused her to yelp. I carefully raked some of the coals and burning sticks from the campfire to under her bottom. She moved her knees up and touched herself and came hard. I thought about climbing on top of her as she roasted, but when she was done, she was done, so that did not happen, damn. * I wanted her to roll over, like we planned, so I could see the fire under her breasts but she said it was now my turn. All the line of fuel under the ladder was gone so we had to reset the ladder kindling. * She was a good cook and did not let me burn too much, but I was there on the ladder for less time that I thought because it did not take long for the heat to take me over the edge to pure happiness. I invited her to join me as I felt the fire under me but that did not happen either, but I did get a very excited kiss from her and more talk from her about letting me burn alive. * We both had first degree burns on our backs and bottoms so there was no sleep second night, nor anything else. We left the ladder, the tent, and the water bucket. I had to carry the rake back because it was not mine. The drive back to San Francisco was just a little painful.

#pyrophilia

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ashyblondwaves · 3 years

Text

Yellow Ribbon

Prompt: Lazy Sundays

Fandom: Scarletvision (Wanda Maximoff and Vision, MCU)

Word Count: 1,320

Warnings: Slightly spooky storytelling and domestic fluff.

***

It was their favorite time of the year. Late September, when the chill in the air was just bitter enough for Sunday nights spent sitting around the firepit, a yearly tradition started when Tommy and Billy were toddlers.

The fire roared with life that night, orange flames licking at the sky as logs crackled and the deep, rich scent of them wafted through the air.

Wanda sat in one of the four adirondack chairs situated around the fire, her legs up and pulled in close to her chest as she nursed a cup of hot cocoa. Her eyes were on Vision tending to the fire, stoking it with a large branch before standing in front of it proudly with his hands on his hips.

“You’ve outdone yourself this week, darling,” Wanda said, pulling her sweater tighter around her with her free hand. “That is one gorgeous fire.”

“Thank you, love,” Vision said, turning around and smiling at his wife. He sat down in the chair next to her and admired his fire once more.

“I GET FIRST S’MORE!”

“THAT’S NOT FAIR!”

“YES IT IS! I’M OLDER!”

Tommy and Billy barreled through the back door and into the yard, holding marshmallows, chocolate bars and a box of graham crackers in their arms. The pair were dressed in their pajamas; gorillas for Tommy and dragons for Billy with their blankets tied around them to look like capes. They climbed into their adirondack chairs and immediately started to open their S’more ingredients.

“I get first, right dad?” Tommy asked, holding a large marshmallow up for Vision to take.

“Why can’t both of you have first?” Wanda asked, getting up from her chair. She plucked a second marshmallow from the bag for Billy and placed it on a long, metal skewer and got to roasting Billy’s marshmallow while Vision took care of Tommy’s.

“I find it rather amusing that we go through this every time we are out here,” Vision chuckled.

“It’s like they forget that the marshmallows can be roasted at the same time,” Wanda added.

“Perhaps by next fall we can trust them enough to roast their own marshmallows without hurling molten hot sugar at each other.”

With the marshmallows successfully roasted, they helped the boys assemble their S’mores before retiring to their chairs.

It was a perfect night. Not a cloud in the sky so the stars were able to shine to their fullest potential and the air had just enough bite to it that the fire felt welcome and soothing.

“Tell us a scary story, dad,” Billy said, chewing his S’more loudly.

“Yeah!” Tommy bellowed before taking a large bit of his own S’more. His next sentence came out muffled through the mix of graham cracker, marshmallow and chocolate in his mouth. “Tell us a scary story!”

“And make sure this one is appropriate for children,” Wanda added. “We don’t need a week of nightmares like last time.”

Vision nodded, picking the perfect story for the boys. He grabbed a flashlight and shined it under his chin.

“There once was a couple named Johnny and Jane,” he said dramatically, making the boys laugh. “Johnny and Jane had known each other since they were kids and since then, Jane always wore a yellow ribbon around her neck. She would never tell Johnny why she wore it, despite him asking quite a few times during their life together.

Eventually Johnny and Jane grew up and were married. They shared a long life together with four children and the yellow ribbon around Jane’s neck. Johnny only asked Jane about the ribbon once during their marriage and Jane replied to him, “You’ve waited this long. You can wait a while longer.” And so Johnny waited. Waited for the day he’d know about the yellow ribbon.

A year after their 50th wedding anniversary, Jane grew ill and was on her deathbed. Johnny knew he had one last chance to ask his wife about her yellow ribbon, so he asked. And Jane, with a sad smile, finally agreed to let Johnny untie her yellow ribbon. Johnny, fumbling with the knot, untied the yellow ribbon around his wife’s neck and….”

“And…” Tommy and Billy said in unison, leaning forward to hear the ending.

“HER HEAD FELL OFF!”

The boys laughed, wide smiles plastered on their chocolate stained faces, clearly not scared by the silly bit of folklore that Vision had just shared.

“Daaaaaaad!” Tommy said. “Another!”

“In a little bit, chaps,” Vision said, handing each boy a wet wipe for their hands and faces. “Let’s get comfortable now, okay?”

The boys nodded, curling up like their mother on their chairs while Vision covered them with their blankets.

“Well, they were entertained, at least,” Vision said, stealing a glance at Wanda who sat curled in her chair - a perfect mirror of her sons - watching her family.

“Maybe you’ll get them next time,” Wanda added, getting up just long enough to scoot her chair closer to Vision. With their chairs together, Wanda was able to lay her head on Vision’s shoulder as she watched the fire dancing in front of her.

“How can something so beautiful be so dangerous?” she asked, reaching a hand out toward the flame.

Vision looked at Wanda, a soft smile crossing his face.

“I wonder the same thing every single day,” he said.

Wanda wrinkled her nose, knowing Vision was talking about her.

“Stop that,” she said sheepishly, looking around their deserted backyard just to make sure nobody overheard Vision’s comment.

“Stop calling you beautiful or stop calling you dangerous?” Vision asked, his lip quirking up into a sardonic grin. “Because you are very much both. I’m merely speaking the truth.”

“Shhh,” Wanda whispered, pointing over to the boys who were both asleep in their chairs, chocolate and marshmallow still on their faces, their blankets pulled up to their chins.

“Well that certainly didn’t take long,” Vision muttered. “They’re not going to like us cleaning their faces while they’re trying to sleep.”

“I know, but let’s just let them sleep for now,” Wanda said, standing up. “I just want some time with you.”

“Come here,” Vision said, putting his arms out and taking Wanda’s hands. “Sit with me.”

Wanda was happy to oblige. She sat down in Vision’s lap, curling her legs up. She fit perfectly in his lap, just small enough for both of them to be comfortable.

Vision took Wanda’s hand, gently tracing each finger and each wrinkle in her palm before bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Would you still love me if I had a yellow ribbon keeping my head on?” Wanda asked.

“Of course, darling,” Vision replied, pressing another kiss to Wanda’s hand. “I’d love you if you had ribbons keeping all of your appendages intact.”

Wanda threw her head back and laughed as Vision moved in and started kissing her neck fervently, making Wanda laugh even more.

“Ewww,” Tommy’s small voice cut through the fun, stopping Vision in his tracks. “You kiss too much.”

“Is there such a thing as too much kissing?” Wanda asked, laughing again as Vision moved in close to her ear, kissing the spot just under Wanda’s earlobe loudly. .

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered, before moving away from her and turning his attention to his son. “There’s no such thing as too much kissing.”

“Well, it’s gross,” Tommy said, pretending to gag.

“Okay, wise guy,” Wanda said. “Wake up your brother. It’s time to wash up for bed.”

Wanda begrudgingly pulled herself up from Vision’s lap.

“Need any help?” Vision asked, standing up.

“I’ll handle the boys,” Wanda said, pointing at the fire. “You make sure the fire is roaring for us when I get back.”

Vision smiled knowingly and immediately got to work on the fire as Wanda and the boys walked back to the house, Vision’s promise of more hanging in the air between him and Wanda.

#flufftober2021 #wandavision #wanda maximoff #the vision #mcu fanfiction #the avengers fanfiction #scarletvision drabbles #scarletvision #wanda x vision

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obxdrewseph · 4 years

Text

Tik Tok - Rafe Cameron

Description: Rafe Cameron falls for a girl he often sees in a cafe and is too nervous to talk to her, so his best friend, Topper, decides to take matters into his own hands and makes a tik tok asking if anyone can identify Rafe’s crush. Of course, she sees it and confronts him.

P.S. pretend covid doesnt exist in this LOL

---------

“Bro, just do it.”

“No.”

“Rafe, c’mon man. When did you become such a pussy?”

“Shut the hell up man, I’m not.”

“Then ask her out!”

“No!”

It was your typical Wednesday afternoon-- the college cafe was bustling with students coming in and out from classes and from students mingling with their friends.

Rafe and Topper sat in the midst of all the chaos, ignoring their econ homework to stare at Rafe Cameron’s current obsession.

“How is this girl different from any other you’ve liked? Just man up and ask for her number or something.”

Rafe Cameron.

Notorious player on campus. And douchebag. He was the type to sleep with a girl and kick her out of his room at 3 in the morning. He never had strong feelings for a girl, which is why Topper was baffled at the fact he kept staring at the dark haired, brown eyed plain Jane in the corner of the coffee shop.

“Look, she’s just a pretty girl. And she just looks... shy I guess.” Rafe lamely said. He didn’t know why he wasn’t just barging up to her like he normally did at parties. Of course, those girls were clawing to get to him. He didn’t have to work as hard.

Topper sighed loudly. “Fine, fine. If you’re gonna force my hand.”

Rafe raised a brow as Topper slowly pulled his phone from his pocket.

He then began to film the girl and zooming in on her face.

“Top, what are you--”

“Ssssh.”

After 30, long, agonizing seconds for Rafe Cameron, his best friend finally stopped filming the poor girl.

“Does anyone know this girl? This loser wants to ask her out...” He spoke as he typed.

“No wait--”

“Done. Just posted on tik tok.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped.

“What?”

“Now, we wait.”

-------

You had a long day of classes and all you wanted to do was fall in your bed.

But no, as a history major, you had to read 250 pages (the entire book needed to be read by the end of the week, but you were spacing), write detailed notes on them, and then start on your essay that is due next week.

You always liked to get ahead of schedule so that your work wouldn’t pile up.

After sitting in the cafe for an hour, you had to go home to cook dinner. You hated eating at cafes since bread just wasn’t your thing.

Once you hit your dorm room, you checked your phone that seemed to have hundreds of notifications.

"The fuck?” You whispered out loud. As an RA, you could say whatever you wanted to in your room, but you still felt weird swearing in front of others. Which is why you whispered the words to yourself.

You dropped your bag at the door and quickly opened your phone.

GIRL, CHECK TIK TOK

Congrats, you’re famous! don’t forget me lol

rafe cameron ?? honeyyy get itttttt

Confusion. That’s all you felt. You quickly clicked on the link on of your friends sent you.

You watched the video set in as Topper, the owner of the account, zoomed in on your face at the cafe you were just in. You didn’t think you looked pretty as your hair was a mess and you hadn’t showered in a couple of days.

Not to mention you were wearing jeans and a baggy t-shirt-- the normal college attire.

As you read the caption, you felt your heart race at an abnormal rate.

The words became blurry fairly quickly as your stress started to build up. You set your phone down on the counter to avoid dropping it-- you were rational enough to do that.

You kept getting texts from your closest friends saying two words: Call me. But at this point, you couldn’t even think straight. What was a hot, popular guy like Rafe Cameron doing pining over you? And apparently being too afraid to ask you out?

Honestly, you had never been hit on in your first two years of college and you didn’t think it was going to start with Rafe Cameron, the richest guy at the school. And every straight college girl’s wet dream.

You heard your phone buzz on the counter and you checked caller ID. It was your best friend.

You took a deep breath and answered it.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you were dating Rafe Cameron.” She joked.

“Shut up! Tell me what to do!!” You screamed.

“Ok, ok, I can tell you’re freaking out and nervous, but this is a good thing! A happy thing! A guy liked you so much that he put a video--”

“His best friend posted the video--”

“As I was saying, put a video out about YOU! This is your chance to finally have the romance you’ve always dreamed of, right? You’re always pining after those book boyfriends or whatever who AREN’T REAL.”

She emphasized the last part which made you cringe. Your obsession with fictional characters was justified-- if she read, she would know.

“Dude, this is Rafe. Rafe fucking Cameron.” She gasped at your swearing, a joke both of you had because you’ve known each other since you were children.

“Exactly, it’s Rafe motherfucking Cameron, meaning, you HAVE to go after him.”

“No, you’re wrong! He’s Rafe Cameron! If he was really into me, he would’ve asked me out already. Literally no one can say no to him nor does anyone want to.” You bit your lip, thinking of ways to get out of this. “You know what? I bet this is a prank or something.”

“A prank?”

“Yeah, like Topper trying to embarrass Rafe by making an ugly girl ask him out--”

“First of all, don’t talk about yourself like that. And second, no, tik tok is not the place to embarrass girls. They would get roasted so hard. And third, THIS IS YOUR CHANCE.”

Contrary to your best friend, you never seriously wanted a relationship. You were the type to fantasize about falling in love and hyped up all of your friends when they had crushes, but you never truly found someone you wanted to get to know or wanted to date.

It just seemed so outlandish to you.

Plus, you wrote off college boys when one followed all of your roommates on instagram besides you. That kinda knocked your ego down.

“Look, I’m just going to ignore this. I don’t think it’s going to be the love story you think so I’m gonna go.”

“Wait, y/n--”

You hung up before she could finish.

You just couldn’t deal with her hopeless romanticism right now.

You sighed and tied your hair into a messy bun. How could you finish your homework now?

--------

“I don’t think she saw it.”

Topper laughed at his nervous looking friend.

“Dude, she definitely saw it. It has thousands of likes the last time I checked and I’m pretty sure people were tagging her in the comments.”

Rafe fixed his hat so it covered his face. He definitely didn’t want his friend to notice it turning beet red.

“I hate you dude.”

“No you don’t.”

Once again, the two rich boys were sitting in the same cafe they were in yesterday. They had been sitting in there for two hours now, and there was no sign of the mysterious girl who did or did not know she was tik tok famous.

“I don’t think she’s coming.” Rafe commented. On one hand, he was relieved he wouldn’t have to talk to her. But on the bigger hand, he desperately wanted to see her again. He didn’t know why he was so captivated by her brightly dyed hair or the 10 pins stuck on her backpack. She seemed so normal, yet she stuck out with all the book stickers she had on her laptop. Rafe would never tell a living soul that he liked reading YA romance novels but he felt like he could confide in this mysterious girl.

“I don’t know. It’s still early.” Topper noted.

“Um, excuse me?”

The two boys’ heads shot up at the dainty voice.

You were wearing black ripped jeans with a white top; it was the most simple outfit Rafe had seen you in as you usually dressed in bright colors. He would never admit it, but he even noticed when you changed your nail polish.

What Rafe didn’t know was that your best friends held an intervention last night and told you to dress “more to his style” which included simple attire. Yet, you couldn’t fully immerse in the role and wore your favorite bucket hat that was covered in white daisies.

“Hey,” Rafe said lamely.

Topper immediately gathered his stuff and left you two alone. What a homie.

At Rafe’s bland answer, you smiled politely.

“Can I sit?” You asked. Rafe nodded and gestured towards the seat. He didn’t know why he was acting so weird, but you were just so much prettier up close.

He could see the bright red earrings you wore that matched your Nikes and noticed your clumsily applied makeup (which he knew because his sister was so good at it). It only made his heart race even faster.

“Um, so I saw the video... I’m sure you know which one I’m talking about.”

The boy blushed.

“Yeah?” He tried to act suave and calm, but his nerves were all over the place. He felt a bit calmer seeing the girl start to play with her hair: a nervous trait his sister said most girls had.

“Um, well, I... I was wondering...” The girl trailed off, her face turning a darker red. He almost felt bad for her, but she was so darn cute and wanted her to continue.

“Look, I’m really bad at this... and I know you’re good at it, so...”

The boy’s ego inflated slightly.

“So?”

This wasn’t going the way you wanted it to go. You felt frustrated that you couldn’t even get the words out that you practiced. Your eyes prickled with tears from embarrassment; you wanted to get out of the situation as soon as possible. You didn’t know what you were thinking approaching the hottest guy in campus and expect not to be tongue tied.

And his lack of words made you think he was just messing with you.

You felt a gentle hand on top of yours which burst your drama bubble. You looked up and saw Rafe’s bright blue eyes full of concern, and... something else.

Dammit, he probably thinks I’m a weirdo.

“Hey, it’s ok. Honestly, it was my friend, the one who left earlier, it was his idea to put the video up and he did it without my permission. If it were up to me, it would’ve taken a lot longer to pluck up the courage to approach you...” He confessed.

This shocked you. Rafe Cameron... tongue tied around you??

“Look, let’s start over. I’m Rafe Cameron, junior, business major, and fun fact: I’m on the hockey team.” You knew all of those details, but you let him give a formal introduction. You thought it was cute that he felt the need to explain all of this to you because there wasn’t anyone at your campus who didn’t know who he was.

You held out your hand.

“Y/N, a sophomore and a history major. Fun fact: I’m an RA.” His eyes brightened at your response and shook your hand with a smile.

He had to practice his stern handshake with businessmen his father forced him to meet, but your hands were gentle and soft, like they were afraid of hurting him. It’s been a while since someone has treated him so delicately. He liked it.

“Well, y/n, it’s a good thing I don’t live in the dorms because I definitely would’ve tried to act up to get your attention.” He teased.

You laughed at the response because you knew a couple of the young freshmen who made a ruckus in the lounges so that you had to come in and yell at them.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, we could’ve met sooner if you were.”

The flirty words flowed from you naturally and you wanted to take them back as soon as they left your mouth.

But they made Rafe Cameron blush, so you let it go.

Suddenly, his watch buzzed and he swore under his breath.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I have a business meeting to get to. Can I get your number for uhhh... for future purposes?”

His slight fumble of words made you grin.

“Of course.”

I guess tik tok is good for something.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron scenarios #rafe cameron imagines #outer banks #obx #obx scenarios #outer banks scenarios #drew starkey #drew starkey scenarios #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe #obx rafe cameron

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panda-noosh · 4 years

Text

fire and ice {Draco Malfoy x Reader}{pjo x hp crossover}

Words: 21k {:))))}

Summary: Wizards and demigods don’t get along. So what happens when the Malfoys are forced to stay at Camp Half-Blood?

Genre: angst - pjo crossover!!!

Notes: ask me about commissions! - masterlist - AM I SORRY? ABSOLUTELY NOT. this has been brewing in my brain for literal ages and i’ve finally snapped and just done it. might do more. who knows? certainly not me.

----

Lucius Malfoy hates demigods.

Everyone knows it. He doesn't make it a secret. He doesn't listen to the people who tell him – time and time again – that demigods and wizards aren't even meant to mingle, that him bringing their name into every press conference, every public appearance, every meeting, is doing nothing but spurring a fire that should never have been lit in the first place.

He's at it again, though, because of course he is. That man never knows when to leave well enough alone, especially concerning business that has nothing to do with him.

Today, his words are just as harsh as they were yesterday. The newspaper quotes him saying demigods are nothing but scum, mistakes upon the world. He has claimed plenty of times that not a single demigod was a planned child, that no god in their right mind would ever conceive with a Muggle.

“What the fuck is a Muggle?” Percy asks.

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at the black and white words. They jumble together, as they always have done, but you're still capable of making out the bare bones.

Lucius Malfoy really, really hates demigods.

“This guy is on drugs,” Percy continues. “Who's gonna be the one to tell him we're all literally just vibing over here in camp?”

“I think it all comes down to jealousy,” says Annabeth.

“Jealous about what? He's a fully grown wizard – he could wipe us out with one flick of his wrist if he wanted to.”

“You underestimate us.”

Percy scoffs. “I saw Will nearly fall into the fire the other day; there's absolutely nothing here Lucius Malfoy needs to be afraid of.”

And you see his point. Of course you do. Being a demigod yourself, you have the utmost confidence in the fact that Lucius Malfoy could, indeed, probably wipe you out with nothing more than a brief thought. Gods only know he's wanted to for as long as you've heard his name.

Nonetheless, this acceptance doesn't stop you from thinking about what it would be like to really stumble across the man who seems to be all talk and no action. Never once have you heard a story of wizards attacking demigods, nor vise versa. The two clans stay far apart from one another for reasons that have been made abundantly clear in the newspapers; they will just never get along. Two clashes of power like that will leave the world rumbled, and many people hurt, and it's better off to avoid that when you can.

“We should track this Malfoy bloke down.”

The words have fallen from your mouth before you've even fully registered they are what you wanted to say. Both Percy and Annabeth pause mid-argument, Annabeth nearly snapping her spine with how fast she twists in her seat to look at you. You flick your eyes up from your plate of roast beef and give a tiny, timid smile, as if shy that you even made such a suggestion.

“You're joking,” says Percy, before turning to Annabeth. “They're joking, right?”

“They're definitely joking.”

“I'm not.”

“Well, you need to start joking before I bring Will over here to make sure you're not running a fever or something-”

“I'm serious!” You gesture towards the fire, where the newspaper can still be seen curling amongst the flames. “Have you guys not been reading the amount of threats he sends us every time he gets a chance? What if he's serious?” “I doubt he's being serious,” Annabeth says, though there's a wobble in her voice that tells you she perhaps doesn't fully believe her own assurances. “Isn't it a crime in the wizard world to – like – murder innocent things?”

“I'm pretty sure there was an entire space of time over there where people were just murdering each other,” Percy responds.

Annabeth pales.

“See what I mean?” you continue. “Besides, it's getting boring here.”

Percy blinks. “Boring?”

“I'm bored. I just want something to do, for Gods sake. Chiron's keeping such a tight leash on us-”

Percy throws his hands up. “Oh! I wonder why!”

“You two even said a few days ago that you miss being out and about, doing stuff, saving lives-”

“I never said that,” Percy argues. “In my opinion, I've had enough saving lives to last me a lifetime.”

“Weak.”

“Coming from-”

“Okay!” Annabeth snaps. “Enough. This conversation is officially over.”

You pout, folding your arms over your chest like a child having a tantrum. Percy laughs at your expression, giving your nose a playful tap that does nothing but infuriate you further. It's been like this for weeks now – short tempers, boredom, an unease that can only be put to rest when you're out and about, doing what you do best.

Maybe it's the ADHD. Maybe it's the godly blood running through your veins. Maybe you're just too curious for your own good, but you want to find Lucius Malfoy and just talk to him. You want to see if he's as tough in person as he makes himself out to be on paper. You know you're not much to look at, nothing more than a teenager with interesting parentage, but maybe that will be enough to get your questions answered – why do wizards hate demigods so much?

Annabeth cuts the conversation short any time you try bringing it to life again. She's a master at changing the subject, sometimes deciding to just talk over you about a completely different topic. Eventually, Percy's laughter and Annabeth's avoidance is enough to make you shut up, and soon you're just sitting there, listening to Annabeth talk about the recent Athena cabin shenanigans she bore witness to a few nights previous.

Dinner finishes, and the tables split back into their cabins. Annabeth gets lost amongst her sea of siblings, giving you and Percy a wave before she disappears for the night. You and Percy walk in silence for a little while, before you split off to your own respected cabins.

Alone.

Sleeping on your own has never bothered you before. It's all you've ever known. You were born an only child, your mother having lost her mind shortly after giving birth to you, your father never being around due to the complicated fact he was a god.

Is a god.

Sometimes it shakes you to think your own father will undoubtedly outlive you. Hades is sat on his throne somewhere, watching you do all these things in his honour, knowing full well he will one day have to watch you die. He might be by your bedside as your heart beat gradually comes to a halt in your sleep.

More likely, he will be sat amongst his godly brothers and sisters, watching you fight on the battle field, catching the very moment a sword pierces your chest and you bleed out with no one to help you, no one by your side, no one caring.

You shake the thought from your head as you reach your cabin, a large, black painted building with a skull and crossbones over the door. It's a lonely place, but demigods are lonely kids, so it kind of fits, and you've never seen any problem with facing the truth.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you grab your notebook and pen from beneath your pillow. It's been a long time since you wrote anything, considering you've been too tired to even properly function these days, but tonight, your thoughts are heavy, and you need to find some way to let them loose. You sit cross-legged on the uncomfortable camp bed Chiron provided you with all those years ago, and start scribbling.

Just random sentences, things that probably won't even make sense when you wake up tomorrow morning, words that don't even go together, but are just popping in your mind every few seconds. You've always called it poetry, but it's on thin ice. You let nobody read it, considering you know how bad it is, how weird it is. You can honestly imagine someone reading it and immediately expressing concerns for your mental stability.

But it distinguishes that weight in your brain. It makes you see sense for a bit, pouring these words onto paper before closing the notebook and stuffing it beneath your pillow. You won't have to read them again if you don't want to, and that's the best part; it offers a moment of bliss, but there are no strings attached. All is well. All can be ignored if you want it to be.

----

It takes weeks for the subject of Lucius Malfoy to arise at the dinner table again.

Annabeth has been fighting it off. The demigod has known you for far too long; at this point, all she needs to do is take a glimpse of your face, and immediately she knows exactly what is going through your brain. It's like a sixth sense to her, and it gives her the perfect opportunity to change the subject before you can so much as utter the word Wizard.

Percy notices the tension, and finally snaps.

“Are you still thinking about what Lucius Malfoy said?”

Annabeth groans, slapping Percy on the arm. “I told you not to bring it up!” But your attention has already been grabbed. You straighten up in your seat, grinning from ear to ear as you say, “So can we go?”

“Give me a break,” Annabeth grumbles, dropping her head into her hand. “We're not going to visit Lucius Malfoy. We don't know the guy.”

“He doesn't know us.”

“Good.”

You lean across the table to flick Annabeth's forehead. “But he still insists on talking about us to whatever freaky wizard press he has special ties to; I just want to see him, Annabeth! I just want to – like – mess with him a little bit!”

Percy laughs, nudging Annabeth's elbow. When he speaks, it's through a mouthful of noodles. “I actually think our Y/N is on to something.”

“Thank you, Percy.”

Annabeth's head shoots up, a pale spot in the centre of her forehead where you flicked her. “No! No, this isn't even up for debate. Chiron will kill us if he knows we're even talking about it.”

“No he won't,” you reply. “Chiron trusts us. He's seen us do all sorts, and it's not like I'm asking you guys to go and risk your lives for me. We'll go and talk to him, get his side of the story, and then we'll-”

“It's honestly like you think I'm stupid.”

You freeze, fork hovering halfway to your mouth. “Come again?”

Percy laughs, failing to stifle it behind his hand. “You've only gone and woken the beast, Y/N.”

“Shut up.”

Annabeth sighs, running a hand over her ponytail. “I've known you since we were seven years old, Y/N – I know what you're up to. You'll never just talk to Lucius Malfoy. You'll get there, and you'll have to taunt him, and jeer at him, and put a stink bomb in his bathroom-”

“That's the oldest trick in the book – I'm better than that.”

“But you know what I mean!” Annabeth shakes her head. “You'll get carried away, and we know what happens when you get carried away.”

Your stomach dips. Even Percy's bright smile falls, replaced with a grimace the two of you share. It's a low blow, and Annabeth knows that, but she also knows better than to make it out like you and Percy aren't two of the most unpredictable demigods to walk on Camp Half-Blood soil.

When Annabeth next speaks, her voice is softer. “It's just too risky.”

“Since when did you start being scared of a little confrontation?”

Percy's voice startles you from your momentary reverie. Both you and Annabeth snap to attention, turning to look at your friend with raised brows; suddenly, he doesn't look like the happy-go-lucky, always bantering kid he usually is. His expression has darkened, jaw set and eyebrows lowered so his blue eyes look darker than normal. He can't even bring himself to look you both in the eye, instead choosing to keep a firm glare on the noodles and rice in front of him.

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks. “I'm not afraid of confrontation. My scars can vouch for that.”

“Right, so why is Y/N's suggestion so scary to you?”

You blink; this was certainly not the direction you were expecting the conversation to go. Annabeth and Percy bicker like cat and dog, but there's never been any malice in it. Now, listening to Percy, you can hear the genuine hurt in his voice, and you know her previous comments about getting carried away have actually struck a chord in him.

Annabeth stares with her mouth agape, clearly unsure how to respond. She must sense the tension, too, must realise she has said the wrong thing.

Still without looking up, Percy says, “I agree with Y/N; we need out of this camp for a little while. We need to do something. So why not have a little road trip to visit the man himself, huh? Why not get our questions answered?”

“Percy....” Annabeth flicks a desperate glance in your direction, but you're not inclined to intervene when Percy is like this. As someone who has experienced the difficulty of controlling powers that you have been forced to ignore for a grand number of years, the last thing you want to do is provoke Percy any further than Annabeth has already managed to do.

“I'm bored, too,” he continues. “And, to be honest, I'm getting pretty tired of them wizards thinking they can say whatever they want about us. It's about time we let them know they're not better than anyone just 'cause they wear them stupid robes and have a council.”

“So what are you saying?” you pipe up, excitedly. “You'll go with me?”

Percy shrugs. “I don't see why not. It'll be a bit of fun, won't it?”

You cheer, throwing your hands in the air before catching a glimpse of Annabeth's angered expression. Your cheer immediately drifts away, and you let your hands fall to your sides before mumbling, “You sure? 'Cause, I mean, we don't have to.”

“No, we're going,” says Percy, staring right at Annabeth. He has a death wish. That is the only explanation you can come up with right now. “It'll be fun, as you said.”

Annabeth's nostrils flare. She says nothing else, simply sends one final glare to Percy – as if you're not even present – and stands up, marching away before dinner has finished.

Percy huffs, slumping back in his chair. “Where does she get off telling us we get carried away?”

“I mean, she isn't wrong, Percy.”

Percy scowls. “I don't think that's very fair.”

“You're in denial.” You plunge your fork into his noodles, using his distraction to steal some food for yourself. “But we're going to visit Lucius Malfoy! That'll be fun!”

“I only said that to make Annabeth angry.”

“I know, but a promise is a promise. We're going, and we're gonna have a fantastic time.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Not even two seconds later, Percy squeals and jumps from his seat. “Hey! Don't do that!”

You grin, willing the skeletons hand to let go of Percy's ankle and sink back into the dirt.

-----

You and Percy remember this so well.

It's muscle memory at this point, standing in the Hades cabin in the dark of night, Percy having tip-toed over to your domain to indulge in some illegal shenanigans. When you were younger, this used to be a nightly occurrence, which is one of the main reasons you both share such dramatic memories; neither of you are capable of staying out of trouble for very long, and maybe this is the very reason why.

It's so easy for you to go wherever you want. You could shadow travel out of Camp Half Blood without a second thought, exhaustion be damned, but you never do. You respect Chiron too much to go out of your way to disobey him, but tonight is an exception. Percy stands by your side, hands tucked into an oversized hoodie. He's pulled the hood on over his dark hair, shoving the tangled strands into his eyes, though he does little to fix this. Instead, he keeps his blue gaze on you and says, “How long do you think we'll be?”

“Not long,” you reply. “A few hours. Maybe a little longer if you fancy a stroll around London before we head back.”

Percy scowls, glancing over his shoulder at the window. Nobody is awake. Camp Half Blood has never been so quiet.

“Stop worrying.” You grab the sleeve of his hoodie, ushering his attention back to you. “I know what I'm doing, Perce – you've been with me a thousand times before. You know I can do it.”

“Last time you shadow travelled this far, you nearly died.”

“I was younger then. I've had more practise.”

“Enough to travel to London?”

You grab his hand, the motion so familiar now it's almost second nature. “Let's find out, shall we?”

You don't give life the chance to throw another distraction your way; you inhale in that way you always do before a lengthy jump, and then you let your mind empty of all rational thought. Your mind does not go blank, nor does it settle; for a brief spell, you feel insane. You feel utterly and completely unhinged as the dead cackle in your head, thrashing through your brain like dogs trying to leap a wire fence. Your thoughts are no longer your own, replaced instead by the thoughts of people who are angry at death, angry at their own fate, people who blame your father and all of his offspring for the way their lives turned out.

It hurts. You're forced to watch their faces as they twist into expressions of pure agony, begging for a help you cannot give them, because they are hundreds of years too late.

It stops once your feet hit the ground.

You try to steady yourself just to give off the illusion that you're perfectly fine, but your legs give out and you fall to your knees. Percy grabs your arm, but your body is limp as it slowly restores from the hectic ride that is shadow travel.

“Never gets any better,” Percy grumbles; even he is a little uneasy on his feet, swaying to and fro. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you belch. “Are we in London?”

Percy looks up. You follow his gaze, warmth immediately flooding your stomach at the sight of a job well done, because the two of you are amongst the unmistakeable sights of London.

It's a bit disappointing, you won't lie. Pictures in newspapers always perceive England to be this sophisticated, well-lit place, bustling with people dressed in suits and expensive clothes. Instead, you're greeted by a dark city street, broken street lights flickering overhead, people bustling by with their heads down, wearing track suits.

In the distance, someone yells, “Come on, mate!” and it echoes off the cobbled stone walls.

You and Percy share a glance.

“Maybe we just expected too much,” he says.

“Probably.”

He hauls you to your feet, keeping a hand on your arm just in case you end up toppling over again. Through the darkness, you are just able to make out the peak of a large house in the distance. It's straight from a horror movie in your opinion, made up of dark cobbles, a golden fence adorned with spikes to keep the Muggles from entering; the word itself is nearly enough to make you laugh, though the sight of the house keeps you quiet.

You and Percy approach the gates timidly, his hand still on your arm. “Is this the Malfoy house?”

“I think so,” you whisper. “It looks like the pictures we always see. It's what I was aiming for, anyway.”

“Good job, soldier.”

“Thanks, boss.” You pause, craning your neck to get a better look at the house. “How do we actually get through the gate?”

There are lights on in at least four of the rooms, a shadow passing by a curtain that looks tall and slim, gliding more than walking. You grab Percy's arm and point, whispering urgently, “That must be him! Lucius!”

Percy ducks his head down and laughs. “Okay, okay. Let's just climb the fucking gate and get everything set up.” He glances at you. “You're sure you're up for this?”

“I've never been more prepared for anything in my life.”

Together, the two of you scale the metal gate, using the upper body strength you have gathered from years of training at Camp Half Blood. You're over and in this strangers garden in a number of seconds, sprinting through the grand garden before suspicions can be roused. Around you, white peacocks look up from their grazing, though none of them make a sound to give away the presence of two strangers.

You reach the fountain and duck beneath it; this is where Percy needs to be if he wants to succeed in his part of the plan. He crouches beside you and hovers his hands over the water, not even giving you a warning before he uses his powers to pull the water from the concrete fountain. It sprays across the garden, and that's when the peacocks start to scream.

Water splashes against their feathers, startling them. You can barely hide your laughter at the sight of them springing up from whatever peaceful graze they were involved in beforehand, now darting around the garden like someone has plucked a feather from their flesh.

Percy shoves your arm. “Stop laughing and get on with it before they come out!”

You push past the distractions and focus your energy on your own powers. Your exhaustion makes it all a little bit more difficult, but the image of the final product is enough to have you pushing the exhaustion aside just to reap the benefits of this. Inside yourself, something pulls, and it's familiar, uncomfortable, but it has the effect you want. Almost immediately, a skeletal hand darts from the ground. Just one for now, but you wait patiently before making the next one erupt.

The front door of the Malfoy house bursts open, and standing there is no other than-

“That's not Lucius,” Percy says.

“It definitely is not.”

The person standing in the doorway cannot be much older than you, with snow white hair and a sharp face. His eyes, blue and cold, are wide as they take in the sight before him, his wand clutched in a trembling hand.

“You said you saw Lucius in the window!” Percy hisses, struggling to reel the spray of water back into himself.

“I thought it was!”

“For Gods sake.” Percy grabs your arm and drags you up, no longer caring about being seen. However, you stumble as he runs, dragging you along behind him, because the sight of the boy is distracting; he looks terrified, like he was expecting something completely different, like he thought someone was finally coming to take him away.

You recognise the expression only because you've worn it yourself so many times; growing up as the child of Hades leaves a lot of scars and a lot of fear on a person, considering your father certainly isn't the most liked individual upon the Olympians.

As Percy attempts to drag you back to the gate, you glance over your shoulder. The boys blue eyes glare into your own. He has seen you.

And nothing can really prepare you for what happens next. You don't know enough about the wizarding world to expect this, but the feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. Someone yells in your direction, and then something is crashing into your spine, slithering along your neck, giving you not a single chance to react before the world goes still and you drop to the floor, no longer processing a single thing happening around you.

----

“Would you just wake up?”

The voice is posh and annoying. It makes you want to laugh.

The pain in your spine stops you from doing such a thing, however. Instead, you slowly rouse from sleep, met by the blinding lights of a room unfamiliar. You lay on a bed fit for a king, soft pillows engulfing your sore head, thick mattress swaddling your body like a newborn baby.

And standing above you is a boy you remember seeing only vaguely; pale skin, snow white hair, a grimace that shows he perhaps isn't too happy about having you in his home.

You stare at him a moment, willing him to make the first move. Maybe if he starts the conversation, you won't have to go into too much detail about why you're actually here, because despite the glitches in your memory, that is something you remember very, very well.

Running across his lawn, thinking you were clever because you and Percy were finally going to give Lucius Malfoy a piece of his own medicine.

And now Percy is gone, and you're trapped in a strangers house.

The boy stood above you, however, says nothing. He looks almost nervous, eyes flashing between you and the door, like he's planning the easiest way to flee if things reach that point.

Finally, you snap. “Hello.”

He jerks away, nearly stumbling over a stool by the bedside as he does. “Oh,Christ. Hello.”

“I didn't mean to scare you.”

“You didn't – I'm not scared. I just thought you were still Stunned.”

You blink. “Stunned?”

“I Stunned you.” He pauses, biting his lower lip. “It was the only way I could think to get you to stop running.”

“Is that some kind of spell?”

The boy waves a dismissive hand. “The point is, you were in my garden earlier. If my father had been the one to see you, he wouldn't have hesitated to curse you and call it self defence.”

His father.

Something rushes through your stomach, an excitement that doesn't really make sense. All has failed. You're going to go back to Camp Half Blood and be chastised, probably brutally punished, for the choices you made tonight, and yet here you are, overjoyed at the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy, because that's the only person this boy must be talking about.

“You look a lot like him,” you say.

The boy narrows his eyes. “My father?”

“Lucius,” you clarify. “He lives here, doesn't he? He's the one Percy and I came to see.”

The boy slowly leans back in his chair; it's quite cute, actually, that he dragged a chair into this room just so he could sit over your Stunned body. Maybe he was making sure you didn't die. Maybe he just didn't trust leaving you on your own.

“What business could you possibly want with my father?” he asks. “You must be my age. What year are you in at Hogwarts? What House?”

You smile. “I don't go to Hogwarts.”

He reels back. “Really? Are you from a foreign school? Beuxbatons?”

“I don't go to your fancy magic schools. I'm not a wizard.”

The boy blinks. It never ceases to baffle you the pure ignorance of these people – how they can grow up in a world completely detached from everything and everyone, and yet are still unable to fathom the idea of anybody being different.

“If you're not a wizard, how did you make the water fountain do that?”

“I didn't. Percy did that.”

“Who is this Percy bloke you keep going on about?”

“He's my friend, the one you apparently let get away.”

The boy raises a brow, glancing over at the window as if expecting to see Percy just standing there; honestly, you wouldn't even be surprised.

He turns back and says, “So your friend is a wizard? Are you a Muggle?”

He's taking an awfully long time to catch on.

“No,” you reply, exasperated. “Neither of us are wizards. We're from New York – a little place called Camp Half Blood.”

And for a second, the revelation doesn't land. The boy continues staring at you like you have three heads, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. But then the ball drops, and he jerks back, the chair dragging in the carpet with the speed at which he jumps to his feet. He looks almost horrified.

“Alright,” you mumble. “I'm not going to bring Zeus down here personally. He's a bit busy-”

“How did you even get here?” he hisses. “Are you an assassin? Is that why you were looking for my father – so you could kill him?”

“Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm a demigod, not a murderer.”

The boy looks at you like he doesn't think there's much difference between the two.

This angers you. Something in your stomach burns, and suddenly, the only thing you want to do is to get away from him. You want to go back home. You want to find Annabeth and hug her, tell her she was right, just as she always is. You don't like being in the company of wizards. You don't like being away from the people who understand you best.

“Look, this was fun,” you say, pushing yourself up from the bed. “But I need to get going. I'm sorry about your fountain-”

“Where are you going?” he demands.

You pause, raising a brow. “Why do you care?”

“Because – Because what if you come back to finish my father off? I can't just let you go!”

He must be completely oblivious. You have fought monsters taken directly out of storybooks, have argued and debated with Gods about things such as ice cream flavours and which way is the right direction to go on a road trip – the last person you have any interest in fighting with is some posh, uptight wizard.

“Look,” you say, “all I wanted to do was mess with the guy. He's been saying some pretty harsh things about demigods lately, and Percy and I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. I don't want to murder your father.”

The boy stares at you. He's powerful, too. You know he is. You can see his wand sticking out of a deep pocket in his emerald green robes. One flick of that and you're a goner, and yet he chooses to just stand over you, eyes burning holes into your head.

“What's your name, anyway?” you ask.

He tenses. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

“Sounds evil.”

“It's a strong name.”

“Right.” You flick your eyes to the clock hung upon the wall. “Can I go now?”

He sighs and backs away from the bed. “My father would kill me if he found out I was letting you go.”

You stand up, knees trembling from the aftershocks of having a wizards spell slam directly into your spine, but you manage to catch yourself before crumbling completely; Draco does nothing to help stabilise you, instead watching you with a thoughtful gaze, like he's preparing to attack at any moment.

And it's weird. You know it's weird. You should not just be able to walk out of his house without a single consequence to your name. He should be holding you hostage, keeping you pinned to this bed until his grand old father gets home, and he can tell you off for trespassing, scaring the life out of his precious white peacocks.

But Draco doesn't say another word as you slip out the door and barrel downstairs, suddenly desperate to be away from a world like this. It's weird. It's unnatural. They care about blood status, and they learn spells, and it's all just a little bit too weird for your taste.

Even weirder is the fact that Draco is letting you go so easily.

---

You arrive back at Camp Half Blood when it's light outside, and you know you've been caught.

Wherever Percy may be, you do not envy the treatment he must be getting. You clamber up to the pine tree and look down at the camp you call home, not surprised to see people bustling back and forth already, Chiron included. He looks miffed, digging his front hoof into the dirt like a rabid animal ready to charge.

That's kind of what he is.

You hollow out your cheeks and stroll directly into camp, ignoring the startled gasps of the Half-Bloods. You'll deal with Chiron before you deal with them – that seems like the best way forward.

Chiron spots you seconds before you reach him. He turns, dust billowing up around him before he says, “And where do you think you've been?”

Chiron has always been a father-figure to you, Hades be damned. He saw you as a junior demigod, just growing into who you are, unable to fully process the fact that the man you always hated, the man you once believed to be a no good excuse of a father, was actually a Greek God who has spent his time watching you grow – just from the sky instead of on the ground.

He treats you and Percy differently than everybody else. You're both feared for no reason. People shy away from you like you've been on some blood-lust streak your entire life, even though that's far from the case. When you can, you avoid using your powers, purely because you know how much people dislike them. They see them as unnatural. They think it's weird, despite them having abilities, too.

“Hello, Chiron,” you mumble. “I'm very tired, so if you could just-”

“We've had word from the Ministry of Magic.”

You freeze, stomach dropping, certain you heard him wrong. The only wizard you actually made contact with was Draco, and surely he didn't go to the Ministry after letting you run free just like that?

Chiron shakes his head. His disappointed look is more than you can bare. “What were you two thinking, Y/N? What did you think would happen?”

“I – I – I don't know.” You look around desperately. “Is Percy here? Did he make it back safely?”

“Percy's resting. He wanted to go after you, but Grover wouldn't let him, and thankfully so-”

“I was fine. The boy I met – Draco -”

“Draco Malfoy?”

You falter. “Well, yeah. He spotted us and ended up Stunning me-”

“Oh my gods.” Chiron runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the sky, saying whatever prayers he thinks will help right now, like the Gods have ever listened to any of you before. “You do realise that's Lucius Malfoy's son, don't you? The son of the man who wants our kind terminated.”

“Draco wasn't like that,” you reply, even though you don't know why. “He let me go. He didn't even hurt me-”

“You've just said he Stunned you!”

“For, like, an hour! I was fine when I woke up! And look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you could.”

Chiron groans, turning back to the Big House. He starts walking without another word, forcing you to sprint after him.

“Don't be mad,” you say. “It was stupid. I'm sorry. Chiron, I'm sorry. We just got bored-”

“If children put their family's in danger every time they were bored, Y/N, the human race wouldn't exist.”

He really is angry, angrier than you've ever seen him. It takes you back to your childhood when he used to tell you off for staying up too late, or getting out of bed in the middle of the night.

You stumble after him, thankful that he isn't telling you to go away and leave him alone; that's one thing Chiron has always promised he will never do to you or Percy – he'll never just leave you alone.

You walk into the Big House, side-by-side, and it's a mildly unpleasant surprise for you to see Annabeth already sat by Chiron's desk, her head in her hands, blonde curls framing her face. As soon as the door shuts behind you, she jerks up, whirls around and throws a pen in your direction.

You catch it. “I am safe, thank you for asking.”

“You're so stupid!” She groans, picks up another pen and throws it. Chiron is the one to interject this time, snatching the pen from thin air and tucking it into the little pouch hooked to his side.

“Enough, Annabeth. We haven't got time to chastise them.”

“I beg to differ,” Annabeth growls, not once taking her eyes off you.

The guilt claws to the surface; she only wanted to protect you, only wanted to give you some decent advice, and neither you nor Percy had listened, both too absorbed in your own boredom to use the common sense Annabeth seems so prone to.

Chiron, however, does not give you a chance to ponder over this gruesome feeling. Instead, he pulls a seat out and gestures for you to sit down, which you do without question; at this point, you know you'd be stupid to disobey him, would only be digging yourself into a deeper hole, one you're not too sure you'll be able to crawl out of.

He takes a seat in front of you as Annabeth hovers by your shoulder, arms folded over her chest, eyes trained dead ahead. You awkwardly shift in your seat, waiting for the scolding to begin.

But instead, Chiron grabs a golden button from a drawer in his desk and presses it without saying anything at all. The room immediately brightens up in all different colours – red, green, blue, strobe lights dancing across the room, taking shape in the centre of the carpet. You have to squint to fully understand the form taking shape, but when it does, your stomach drops.

Made entirely of lights, standing in the middle of the room, is Cornelius Fudge, the jittery little minister of the wizard world.

You've only seen him a few times, and never in person; a few times, he came to meet with Chiron in regards to escaped prisoners, wizards who wanted to harm demigods who were on the run. You never thought too much of him, but he looks angry now, his grubbly little face twisted into an expression of anger and loathing. When he speaks, his voice is loud and harsh, making you flinch with each syllable.

“Chiron!” he exclaims. “I hope this message finds you well; I'm still trying to figure out the communication device you gave to me in our last meeting. It's all very confusing, and every time I press something wrong, thunder and lightening nearly wipe me out.” He coughs into a handkerchief before continuing. “Anyway, I'm here to inform you of a mishap which took place in the Malfoy Manor only a few short hours ago. I've been given word that one of your people tried breaking into Lucius's home to do God only knows what. It's only pure luck that Malfoy's son, Draco, was awake and was able to stop the wicked thing from getting through the door.”

“Wicked thing?” you burst. Chiron raises a silencing hand, still refusing to look at you.

“We as a nation are becoming very paranoid by the loose grip with which you have upon your own people; they are starting to become wild, careless, and I can truly see a murder from one of you in our future, which, as the Minister, I must put a stop to as soon as possible. Therefore, I demand the culprit be punished for his or her crimes, and I will be popping in soon with my witness to go over the details of the night to help you further understand where our fear is coming from.” Again, he coughs into a handkerchief. “Thank you. I hope the camp is well – the strawberries you sent were wonderful, as always! Good day to you, sir!”

The lights blink out. The room is doused in silence. Inside your head, a scream echoes.

You don't even know what to say. Would an apology even suffice? Would an explanation even be worth it? Years it has taken for the wizarding world and the demigod world to live in peace, and by the sounds of it, you've just annihilated all of that for the sake of a prank. You let Lucius Malfoy's hateful words burrow themselves into your head, which is probably exactly what he planned.

Chiron puts the golden button back in his desk. The soft click it makes as it hits the wood echoes off the walls, so loud and gentle, so mocking. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet your own and says, “Now you can understand why we're all a little bit angry.”

“A little bit?” You close your eyes, letting Annabeth's outburst ring throughout the room. “Chiron, I warned them! I warned them both! I said – what did I say Y/N? - I said-”

“You said it was stupid, and that we shouldn't do it,” you mumble. “And we didn't listen.”

“No, you didn't, and now you've given the wizard council a reason to think we're out to get them, which gives them a reason to announce open fucking warfare on us-”

“Okay, Annabeth, calm down,” Chiron says. “We're taking this one step at a time. There's no point jumping ahead to things like that.”

“Chiron, this is bad. This is so, so bad. The wizards are going to think we did this on purpose-”

“Why are you saying we?” you ask. “Percy and I did this on our own. We'll take the consequences. We've done it before.” You turn to Chiron, who stands solemnly in the corner, head bowed as if deep in thought. “What are the consequences, may I ask?”

He sighs, nostrils flaring. “We've decided that keeping you in camp for the rest of the summer will suffice for now. The Minister and his witness will be arriving in a few days and I want you to be on your best behaviour.”

You scowl; the punishment is weak. You got off lucky, and you're aware of that, but it doesn't make it any more bearable. You hate being trapped, hate sitting in the Hades cabin with nothing but your own thoughts keeping you company. That's the hardest part about being a child of one of the Big Three – you're alone. It doesn't matter how many campers surround you, you are alone.

But you take the punishment on the chin, giving Chiron a respectful nod before walking from the Big House to continue with the rest of your day. You'll find Percy and talk to him about everything, maybe apologise for dragging him into something so stupid, something so avoidable. If either of you had any flicker of common sense, none of this would have happened.

It's only when you're halfway down the hill do you question anything Chiron has just told you.

You falter, one word lingering in your mind. Witness.

The only witness you can possibly think of is Draco Malfoy.

---

He arrives in the afternoon, already looking so madly out of place.

You spot his white hair, blowing so majestically in the wind Chiron has picked out for the day. His robes billow out around him, his sharp face stuck in an expression of anxiety. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes darting to and fro as he strolls through the centre of Camp Half-Blood with his father at his side and the stout Minister, Cornelius Fudge, strolling behind them.

He looks so out of place. It would almost be humorous if you weren't burning with misplaced anger at the mere sight of him; he told on you. He ran to his father and touted on you, even after making it seem like he was going to let you go with no consequences, and now you're stuck in camp for the rest of the summer with absolutely nothing to do and barely anyone to talk to.

“Dickhead.”

“Is that him?”

You jump at the sound of Annabeth's voice, very nearly dropping the spear you were working with before your distraction walked through the barriers.

“That's him,” you reply. “Draco Malfoy.”

“I meant the other guy. The one you went after.”

“Oh, Lucius. Yeah. He's there, too.”

Annabeth narrows her grey eyes, following the movements of the Malfoy boys. “You know, I can kind of understand why you wanted to put them in their place.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words collapse when Draco's head snaps in your direction, like he somehow sensed your presence. His eyes find yours, his face draining of what little colour it has; something inside you stirs, fingers curling impossibly tighter around the spear.

You remember those eyes so well, shockingly well, strangely well. Waking up to them burning holes into your skull was an experience you don't think you'll forget, considering the shock that coursed through you at the mere sight of him. He was so calm, so curious, not even yelling the slurs his father seems so keen on.

And you might have made it up. You might have just been imagining it, but you're almost certain he flicks his head in the direction of the bandstand set up on the far side of camp, nearly hidden beneath the canopy of trees. You continue to stare at him, too bewildered by the miniscule movement to respond before he disappears over the hill.

“Come on,” Annabeth urges, nudging your arm. “Let's get back to training.”

But you're too distracted now. Knowing that Lucius Malfoy and his son – Draco – are walking around Camp Half-Blood makes your moves sloppy. And then there's the matter of Draco's little signal, like he wants you to meet him somewhere, like he wants to talk to you.

You have nothing to say to him, but that doesn't stop you being curious about what he wants to tell you.

Annabeth swings her sword, very nearly clipping the side of your ear. You yelp, stumbling back. Your foot catches on a rock sticking up from the ground, and before you can react, you're sprawled across the grass with your spear laying in a heap at your side.

Annabeth sighs, kicking the weapon away from your outstretched fingers. “What the hell was that, L/N?”

You prop yourself up on an elbow. “You could have given me some warning.”

“Oh yes, because the monsters will be so generous as to give you some warning.”

You scowl, shoving up from the ground. “Look, I'm just gonna get some water before the next round, okay?”

Annabeth falters, narrowing her eyes. “Just some water?”

“Just some water.” You give her a dazzling smile, hoping to the gods that this is enough to convince her you are telling the truth. You know it's a long shot – Annabeth knows you better than anybody else, but she's learned from her mistakes. Trying to boss you around and tell you what to do will only ever end in disaster, and so she says nothing else as you set your gear back on the rack and head up the hill towards the bandstand, out of sight of Annabeth's suspicious glare.

Draco isn't there when you arrive. The bandstand is deserted, the only sign of life being the tree nymphs poking their heads out of the canopy to see who has arrived on their territory. You shoo them away before slumping down on the bench set in the middle of the stand, gazing around with your heart beating wildly in your chest, and for no reason at all.

He probably won't even show up. He probably hates you. He's probably too scared to face you after what he did, and honestly, you wouldn't even blame him.

After ten minutes, you start losing hope. Chiron will be looking for you shortly, most likely tipped off by Annabeth that you disappeared for no reason instead of finishing your training session. It won't be long for them to add two and two together and realise exactly what you have gone to do-

“I didn't think you'd actually show up. Thought you might have been banned from seeing me.”

Your head snaps up. “Jesus, Draco. You scared the shit out of me!”

There he is, all tall and lanky, white hair blowing away from his forehead, his weird robes billowing out around him. It's weird how a person can make such odd attire look nice, almost like an outfit you'd wear yourself.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest; he sounds tired. “I thought you demigods were meant to have superhuman senses or something.”

You raise a brow. “Our parents are gods, not superheroes.”

“Same difference.”

“I'm flattered.”

He sits down beside you, shoulder bumping yours. “Don't be. It wasn't a compliment.”

You fall into silence then, unsure of what to say, how to start the conversation you both know needs to be had. You had so much anger built up inside you only moments before, but the second you looked up and saw his face, it dispelled. You were reminded of them blue eyes gazing down at you when you awoke from your Stunning spell, how soft and worried they were for a complete stranger.

Finally, he inhales deeply and says, “I didn't mean for this to get as big as it did.”

“Everyone's mad at Percy and I. Me especially.”

He tilts his head back, glaring up at the sky. “How badly did they punish you?”

“I can't leave this place for the rest of the summer.”

“Not too bad, then.”

You glare at him. He cracks open an eye, catches your expression and raises a brow.

“It is bad?” Lifting his head, he gestures towards the open stretch of grass in front of you. “This place looks amazing, Y/N. You've got everything you could possibly need, plus you're safe from all those crazy monsters we always get word about.”

“The monsters don't bother me. I'm meant to go out and fight them; that's my purpose.”

Draco glances at you. You feel his blue eyes burning holes into the side of your head, can feel the judgement radiating off him as he takes in what you've just said. You never realise just how strange other people must find statements like that, how backwards it truly is to crave the feel of battle.

“You know, I'd kill to have a place like this.”

You look at him. “Really? Is your mansion not enough?”

He scowls, barrelling on like you haven't said anything. “A place where you feel like you belong.” He glances over. “You may hate being here sometimes, but look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel like this place is home.”

You can't do that. Despite your desire to be free sometimes, your desire to head out on the streets where you don't belong, you know Camp Half Blood will always be home. It will always be the place you turn to when you need comfort, because it is the only place in the world that has ever accepted you and your weird abilities with open arms.

Draco hums. “Exactly. I don't have that. I don't fit in anywhere; I'm not evil enough for my family, not good enough for everyone else. I'm on my own.”

The silence that follows is a heavy one; you're not used to this kind of talk. You relate so strongly to his feelings, but you very rarely express them in quite the same way. At Camp Half-Blood, everyone is in the same boat. It's rude to think you have it worse than somebody else. Every single person here was abandoned by a parent, maybe even both.

But Draco isn't a demigod, so maybe he won't mind.

“I get that.”

He narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You tug at your sleeve, pulling the material over your curled fingers. “I don't exactly come from the most well-loved bloodline in this place. Even other Half-Bloods take one look at me and cower.”

“That blonde girl I saw you with-”

You wave a dismissive hand. “That's Annabeth; she's more like a sister to me, but even she's wary of my powers.”

Draco pauses. “What powers?”

You open your mouth to respond, to go through the long list of the terrifying things you are capable of, but your words are cut short by the sound of a bark in the distance. Your head snaps up immediately, senses sparking to life before you've even fully processed where the noise is coming from. Around you, the tension in the camp is amplified as the other Half-Bloods spring to the same level of alertness.

Draco straightens up, reaching into his back pocket for a wand that you can almost guarantee will be completely useless within the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood. You place a hand on his shoulder as you stand, pushing him back down onto the bench.

“Stay here.”

“Where are you going?” he asks, head darting left and right. “What was that?”

“I don't know, but it didn't sound good.”

“So call someone!”

You raise a brow, shooting him a glance over your shoulder. He looks like a scared little boy, hands balled against his chest, eyes darting to and fro. They join with yours eventually, softening almost immediately.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“We don't just call someone at Camp Half-Blood. We deal with this stuff on our own.”

Draco falters. His eyes narrow, though the expression doesn't last long; suddenly, he cries out and lurches forward, pointing madly to a space just over your shoulder. You spin just in time, yanking your sword from your belt and swinging blindly. Your shoulder smashes against the dirt, giving you a view of the beast that has just tried ripping you to shreds.

A chimera.

You recognise it. Of course you do. The lion head and snake tail are kind of difficult to forget.

“What the hell is that?”

“Draco, go!” you yell, rolling onto your knees and swinging your sword yet again. The chimera dives, talons outstretched, mouth open in a roar.

It's massive paws slam into your shoulders, shoving you back yet again. You cry out, struggling to lift your sword with the weight pressing against your chest, the blood now seeping from two wounds in your shoulders. Over the chimera's massive shoulders, you can see Draco jumping from foot to foot, clearly unsure what to do.

“Why are you still stood there?” you scream.

Your yelling triggers something within the chimera. You watch the gears turn in its head, its red eyes gleaming before it spins, it's tail snapping out and wrapping around your wrist. You cry out, sword clattering to the floor before you're yanked to your feet and thrown carelessly against the bench you were previously sat on.

Draco spins. “Y/N!”

You groan, looking up through bleary eyes; your sword isn't like Percy's. It won't just reappear in your pocket any time you lose connection with it. Where it lies in the grass, feet away from you, it will stay.

That means you only have one way to get this beast away from you and Draco.

It takes all of your strength, and it's never easy, but you push through the pain and the exhaustion and pull on that little trigger within your body. Something surges inside you, a feeling so familiar it almost feels like second nature. The floor rumbles. Draco yelps, clinging desperately to the back of the bench, but you keep your eyes on the chimera. It digs its foot into the dirt, growls low in its throat, and then it dives.

The skeleton's hand bursts from the ground, wraps around the chimera's ankle and pulls it back.

As soon as the chimera's chin hits the dirt, you bounce to your feet and sprint towards your sword. You snatch it from the ground, spin and slash through the air, no longer caring what part of the beast you hit, just as long as you injure it somehow.

It strikes through the goats head that protrudes from the chimera's back.

Black blood oozes from the monsters back end. It splatters up your arms, tiny dots sprinkling your face, but you don't have the time to ponder on that. You swing again, this time going for the neck. The chimera screams, but as soon as your sword makes contact with it's bushy mane, the scream disappears. The chimera bursts into golden powder in front of you, blowing away in the wind.

A pair of hands wraps around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall to your knees.

“Holy shit,” you whisper against Draco's collar. “Are you okay?”

Draco can't speak. Looking up, you see his lower jaw rattling, words fighting to the surface but being unable to push past his wall of fear. He looks everywhere but your face, as if trying to figure out where on earth the chimera disappeared to.

“It's gone for now,” you say, throat dry. “You're safe, Magic Boy.”

“How did that get in here?”

Annabeth's voice echoes up the hill. Glancing over your shoulder, you see her marching in your direction, Chiron and Percy walking by her side. At the bottom of the hill, the other Half-Bloods look up, shocked at the sight in front of them. Your disgruntled form being held up by a wizard is certainly not a normal sight at Camp Half-Blood.

“Y/N,” Percy exclaims. “Are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” you croak out. “I think I might be bleeding out, though.”

“Someone get some ambrosia,” Chiron demands, and it's with gentle hands that he extracts you from Draco's grip and lowers you to the floor. He looks up at Draco and says, “Are you alright, boy?”

“T-the skeletons,” Draco stammers. “They just – they just came out of the floor!”

Chiron smiles gently. “So I see you've been witness to our Y/N's miraculous abilities, hm?”

Draco's eyes widen. “Y/N did that?”

“Yes, you idiot,” Annabeth hisses, shouldering Draco out of the way so she can kneel beside you. She dabs a wet cloth against your shoulder, and you hiss at the contact.

Percy arrives shortly after with an air tight bag of ambrosia, which you eat in about two seconds flat.

“How did that get in here?” Percy asks.

“The barriers were open already,” Chiron replies. “We needed to let the Minister and his men inside the camp, so we had to weaken them a little bit. We must have weakened them too much, and the chimera found a way in.”

“Or this is the gods playing some sick trick on us,” says Annabeth. “Remember when Percy first arrived and they thought it would be funny to let the Minotaur roam free?”

“This isn't the gods,” you mumble. “I haven't done anything to make them mad.”

“So it's the wizards, then.” Annabeth whirls on Draco, folding her arms over her chest. You close your eyes, listening to Percy chuckle lightheartedly at your side. Both of you have given up trying to calm her down at this point. “You and your people just have to come in and ruin everything, don't you?”

Draco blinks. He's barely spoken the entire time, clearly still trying to figure out what the hell he has just witnessed.

Annabeth laughs coldly. “When will you and your people get the hint that we don't want you here. We don't want anything to do with you! It's you lot who have so much to say about us, and the minute we retaliate, you take a little hissy fit and have to get the bloody council involved! Well, goodbye to you. Get out of our camp and stay out or else the next monster to attack you won't be killed by us – you can deal with it on your own with your fancy magic spells.”

She turns back, flicking her curls in Draco's face.

You shyly glance up and mumble, “Sorry about her.”

“And although that speech held a lot of passion,” Chiron cuts in, placing a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, “I'm afraid Mr Malfoy and his people cannot leave the camp until the barriers have been sorted.”

Silence.

Even you're too stunned to speak, staring up at Chiron as if waiting for the punchline of some joke. He simply looks around, examining the invisible barriers surrounding you, most likely seeing every single gap and crack held within them.

Percy is the first to break the silence. “Uh. . . Why not?”

“Well,” Chiron says, “the barriers have been split. If we were to open them any further to let these men out, I fear they might be unsalvageable. We can't risk it.”

“So we're just gonna let them stay here?” Annabeth hisses.

“I can't do that!” Draco exclaims, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “I have school, and my mother-”

“This isn't up for debate,” Chiron says. “I must keep the safety of my people in mind at all times, and this is the only solution that will keep them safe.”

Annabeth scoffs. “I wouldn't say letting the Malfoy's in our space is keeping us safe.”

“That is because you're blinded by your ignorance.”

You and Percy take sharp breaths through your teeth, watching Annabeth's face drop. It would almost be sad if you weren't in agreement with the centaur.

And it's weird because you used to have the exact same thought process as Annabeth; all you read about wizards was how much they despised your kind, how they saw you as unnatural, a mistake, because gods aren't meant to have children with mortals. Mortals – or Muggles – aren't meant to carry such powerful beings.

And yet here you are, looking at Draco and feeling even the tiniest glimmer of excitement at the idea of having him stay with you for a little while.

Chiron turns back to Draco and says, “You can stay in cabin eleven with the Hermes kids. That's where all the newcomers go.”

Draco pales. “I really don't think this is a good idea...”

“It's the only idea we have,” Chiron says. “Now, get ready for the feast. You must be starving.”

---

Draco doesn't go to the feast. Apparently, he isn't as starved as Chiron made him out to be.

Instead, he follows you to the infirmary, despite having no injuries himself. Will Solace feeds you chunks of ambrosia, keeping a narrowed gaze on Draco as he sits by your bedside, saying nothing. He looks thoughtful, head ducked down, hands perched between his legs; he hasn't spoken a single word since the two of you arrived, and his skin is yet to find colour again.

You glance at Will and whisper, “Is he looking okay to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Will replies, pressing a damp cloth to your shoulder blade. “But I'm not one hundred percent sure how wizards are supposed to look in the first place, so I can't really say.”

“Have you got any juice or anything like that you can give him?”

Will hollows out his cheeks, clearly not appreciating the idea of using up resources on a wizard. Nonetheless, the son of Apollo is too kind for his own good and heads into the back room to grab a juice box. He hands it to Draco with a soft smile, one Draco does not return, before Will says he's going to go check on the other campers. He leaves you alone after that, the room empty besides you and Draco.

Draco doesn't look up. He doesn't really need to; even without seeing his face, you know what expression he will be wearing, as it is the same expression so many people have worn after watching you bring the dead up from the ground.

You bite your lip and say, “The food is good here. Are you sure you don't want to go and get some dinner?”

Draco slowly looks up. His eyes are bloodshot, strained, glinting light blue beneath the yellow lights. “Who is your godly parent?”

You pause. “Why do you care?”

“Because what I just saw you do-”

“Hades,” you blurt out, unable to bear hearing him go into detail again, unable to bear the disgust that will surely ring through his voice. “Hades is my father. I'm the kid he was never supposed to have.”

Draco stares at you, waiting for you to continue, but what else is there to say? There's no relationship to describe, no happy memories with your dad you can share. All there is to it, is that you are not meant to be here, and you are.

“And you . . . you have no brothers or sisters? You're all alone?”

Your eyes snap up. “I'm not alone. I have Percy, and Annabeth, and. . . and everyone else. Plus, I have a little brother – Nico.”

Draco perks up, like the idea of you having a little brother is something to be excited about. “Really? Where is he?”

“He's floating around somewhere,” you reply. “He doesn't really like staying in one place for too long; I only really see him when he comes to visit me or his boyfriend.”

Draco withers. “Oh.”

“Why do you care anyway?”

He scowls. “I don't care. I'm just curious. If I'm to stay here for the next few days, I might as well get to know you a little better.”

“It works both ways, Magic Man. Tell me, why is your father such a little bitch?”

“I could ask the same thing about yours.”

“My dad is the god of death. What's your dad's excuse?”

Draco glares. You grin, slowly leaning back on the hospital bed as you wait for his response, because you genuinely want to know. You've spent years reading articles orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy that go into great detail about why he hates demigods so much, why he thinks they're the scum of the earth; now, you have his son at your disposal, and you're determined to find out where these violent opinions have stemmed from.

Draco sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “My father just doesn't like people who are different.”

You pause. “Different?”

“People who aren't pure-blood wizards are basically bottom tier to him. That includes Muggle borns, Squibs, Muggles, demigods.”

“But he doesn't even know anything about demigods.”

Draco shrugs heavily. “He knows you're different. That's all he cares about.”

It makes sense, you suppose. Lucius has never kept his ignorance a secret. It's not just demigods he speaks badly about. You've read it all – his hatred for Muggles, for people who disagree with him, for good people.

People who aren't like him.

“And what about you?” you ask.

Draco flicks his eyes up, still messing with his fingers. “What about me?”

“How do you feel about demigods?” You gesture around the room. “Now that you've seen us in action; what are your thoughts?”

Draco shrugs, looking back down at his intertwined hands. He has nice hands. Muscled, long fingers, expensive rings. “I think it's all quite odd, but I'll get used to it. I'm gonna be stuck here with you for a while, so I don't really have a choice, do I?”

You smile. “No, I don't think so.”

---

The dreams are worse that night.

They always are after you have been injured. Already restless, you aren't strong enough to fight off the nightmares that swarm your mind, and tonight they come for you in full force.

You always call them nightmares, even though they really aren't. More like visions, people visiting you when you least expect it. You've had Poseidon visit your dreams, Athena, even Ares, but tonight, someone new is making an appearance.

You recognise him immediately. He has the same eyes as you.

“Dad.”

He stands waist deep in black mist. Curly black hair frames a chiselled face, dark eyes gazing at you with a look close enough to love that you get a little emotional. By his side is a three-headed dog, and in his hand is a skull, held so casually. Neither of you mention it. Neither of you need to.

The room is dark. Looking down, you see black mist crawling towards you, hiding your legs from view. You should probably be panicking, but something is holding you back.

“Dad,” you repeat. “Where's Nico?”

“Safe,” he responds, voice too calm for a man whose son has been missing for weeks. Voice too calm for a man who is standing in front of the child he abandoned so many years ago. “And how are you, child?”

“Good. Better than ever, actually.”

“Even with the company you have been keeping recently?”

You pause, certain you misheard. Hades raises a brow, tilting his head as if to say Are you going to try and tell me otherwise?

Swallowing, you say, “So this is about Draco.”

“This is about the wizards in general,” Hades corrects. “Don't think I didn't notice you getting comfortable with that boy.”

“I wouldn't exactly say comfortable-”

“He held you up when you fell.”

“And that was very nice of him.”

“That was inappropriate.”

You fall silent, cheeks heating up. You truly cannot believe your dad – your real life father – is stood in front of you giving dating advice. He needs to take one look at his own history with women and sort himself out before he comes running to you.

“Wizards aren't safe around our people, Y/N,” Hades continues. “You aren't meant to mingle with people like him.”

“I think that's a little harsh.”

“His father wants you dead.”

“My father wants everyone dead! You're the god of the underworld, for crying out loud!”

Hades's eyes widen for a moment, clearly shocked at your outburst, but you don't even have the strength to reel it back in. You have felt frustration towards many of the Olympians, all of whom seem to believe they have some sort of control over you, but the one Olympian who makes you angriest the quickest, is the one stood right in front of you, the one who shares your blood, the one who hooked up with your mum one day before abandoning her, along with the kid he always claimed he was never going to have.

You don't even care that he's a god. You don't care that he could kill you in two seconds flat if he so desired.

“Chiron did not raise you to have such a sour attitude,” Hades says after a moment.

You deflate, eyes slipping closed. “There's really no point in trying to get through to you, is there?”

“It is my job as a father-”

You scoff.

“-to keep my kids safe. That's what I'm doing.”

Your eyes pop open. “Keep us safe? Bianca's dead, Dad. Nico's gone rogue. The only reason I haven't been slaughtered is because I never expected you to keep an eye on me – I do everything on my own.”

“That's not true,” Hades growls. “You know that's not true.”

“No? So where's my little brother then, huh? Where's Bianca? Where were you yesterday when a fucking chimera nearly ripped me to shreds, huh? Where were you then?”

“I'm a busy man, Y/N, but I'm serious when I say that wizards are not the kinds of-”

“This isn't about the wizards!” you yell, throwing your hands up. The ground rumbles, but neither you nor Hades acknowledge it. “This is about you coming into my dreams, thinking you can just lay down some fatherly rules after nearly eighteen years of not giving a shit about me!”

His eyes flash. Within the dark irises, you catch a glimpse of a screaming face, and you know exactly what he must be hearing in the back of his mind right now. You hear it sometimes, too, only he must be much more used to it than you are.

“I have always cared for you,” he says. “Even when my brothers and sisters were punishing me for having another demigod child, I cared for you. I kept them from harming you. I made sure you reached Camp Half-Blood safely so that you could be under the protection of people who knew where you came from.”

“And they've been more like family to me than you have ever been.”

Hades closes his eyes. A god dejected. A god not getting what he wants. It's a rare but pleasant sight.

“I'd like to wake up now,” you mumble. “I appreciate you stopping in, but please never do it again.”

Hade's looks at you, and you hate the resemblance. You hate that pull, so mortal and familial. You can't even help it. It's like the genes you got from this man are desperate for you to just make up with him, to just see him as the dad he is.

But you can't.

He argues no further, clicking his fingers to send you out of your sleep. You awake, startled, eyes snapping open to the sight of your dark room, the smell of ash heavy in the air. You flick your eyes over to see your bedside table gone – yet again, you incinerated it in your sleep.

“Fuck sake,” you whisper.

“I put it out.”

You yelp, very nearly falling out of bed in your shock. Your head snaps up, hands grappling for your sword, only to pause when you look over and see Draco standing in the doorway wearing a white dress shirt and black trousers.

He looks exceptionally smart.

Exceptionally smart.

Your heart jumps as you push yourself up, running a self conscious hand through your bed head. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Chiron asked me to wake you. He said you have training today.”

You groan, flopping back into your pillows. Draco chuckles, and before you can tell him to stop, he strolls right over to your window and pulls the black out curtains open.

“Noooo,” you moan, rolling onto your stomach and stuffing your head in the pillows.

Draco chuckles. “Come on. It's already nine am. The climbing wall is gonna be packed if you don't wake up now.”

You peek an eye out of your pillow and glare at him. “How do you even know about the climbing wall?”

“Poseidon's son gave me a little tour after I left the infirmary yesterday; quite a nice little place you've got here, I must say. I'm quite fond of it all.”

“Oh, happy days. As long as you're happy.”

He grins, sharp as knives. “I feel like I'm on holiday.”

You swing your legs out of bed. “You're digging yourself into a deeper hole, Malfoy.”

“I can just sit back, kick my feet up, watch you lot fight a bunch of mythical creatures-”

You lob a sock at him. “Get out while I get changed.”

Draco grins before bowing out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

And so you get ready for the day, getting dressed in your usual Camp Half-Blood shirt and a pair of comfortable jogging bottoms. The sun is bright this morning, a clear indicator that Chiron and the gods are in a bit of a better mood than they were yesterday, when rain was breaking through the already damaged seals of the camps barriers.

As promised, the climbing wall is set up and booming with Half-Bloods. People from all the different cabins take turns going up against one another, clambering up one side of the wall, racing each other to the top as lava pours down from nowhere, lightening strikes zap through the centre of the wooden beam, as random hands appear out of nowhere and make swipes for legs and arms and faces.

You spot Draco sat by himself in the stands, wand twirling in his fingers. It could very well be an intimidation tactic, but you stroll up beside him anyway, taking a seat to watch the scene before you unfold; someone from the Ares cabin has gone up against someone from the Athena cabin, a deadly pairing when put together.

Draco doesn't budge when you sit down. Instead, he points and says, “I think the one with the spear is going to win.”

“Clarisse?” you say. “Yeah, probably. She's a stubborn bitch.”

“Daughter of...”

“Ares.”

“God of...”

You roll your eyes. “Have you ever actually looked into the Greek myths?”

Draco shrugs, leaning back in his seat. He stretches his long limbs out in front and says, “I was educated more in the ways of Dark Magic than Greek myths.”

“Boring.”

“Necessary, I think.”

“Tell me how that all works.”

Draco glances over. “Magic?”

“The world of magic. It sounds. . . confusing.”

Draco pauses for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. As he ponders, the two of you watch Clarisse make her way to the top of the climbing wall, where she pulls the ring loose of it's confines and holds it up to the sound of applause and cheers from the people on the ground. She hops off, landing in a crouch on the ground; her brothers and sisters swarm her, all but lifting her off her feet in celebration.

Finally, Draco speaks. “It really is just a whole different world. Different to. . . any other world, I guess. We dress differently-”

“Yes.”

“The structure of the whole thing is different. You get used to it after a while, but I guess being here is making me realise just how weird the way things are run back home really are.”

“But it's what you're used to, isn't it?” you say. “You must have thought the way we did things was weird when you first arrived.”

Draco scoffs. “Skeletons coming up from the floor? Definitely weird.”

Your cheeks heat up, despite the lack of malice in his voice. Your powers are still – and forever will be – a sensitive topic for you; you've had far too many bad experiences with them to ever be comfortable flaunting them around like the other Half-Bloods are capable of doing. Even now, you watch the Hephaestus kids make fire sprout from their fingertips without so much as a flicker of hesitation – you've never been able to do that, because people take one look at what you're capable of and immediately think you're some kind of devil spawn, there just to drag them into the pits of hell or something.

Draco nudges you, pulling you from your trance. When you look over, he gestures towards the climbing wall. You follow his gaze to see Percy standing in the centre, waving up at you, arms wild above his head, that goofy grin on his stupid face.

“I think he wants you to join him,” Draco mumbles.

You glance over. “You don't mind?”

“I'll stay here and cheer you on. How about that?”

You stare at him a second longer, the wand twirling between his nimble fingers; oh, it would be so easy to hate him. That cocky smirk, the subtle hostility to everything he says. You weren't made to like wizards, but Draco Malfoy is starting to grow on you.

You give him a smile before hopping from your seat and jogging down into the grounds. People cheer at your arrival, because this is the match they have all been waiting for; scared as they may be to face your powers on their own, they would never give up the opportunity to watch two kids of the Big Three go head to head against one another. This is truly the only time you feel comfortable using your powers.

Percy shakes your hand when you reach him, dragging you close so he can whisper in your ear. “You and Dynamo getting a little close up there?”

You shove him away, not even giving him an answer before you hop up onto the first ring of the climbing wall. “You coming, Seaweed Brain?”

Percy rolls his eyes, taking position on the other side of the climbing wall. In the stands, a whistle blows, and immediately the two of you start.

Percy's quick. Percy has always been quick. From the day he strolled into camp, dragging Grover along with him, he has proven how powerful he is.

But you're also pretty quick, pretty lithe, just as capable as him.

You don't even fully process where he is, much too focused on avoiding the downfall of lava dribbling down the side of the climbing wall. The heat singes your hand as you pull yourself up, and you have to grit your teeth to stop the cry of panic that always wants to make it's way to the surface when this happens.

Percy has the advantage, of course; he just summons some water from thin air, and the lava is immediately overpowered. He laughs at your scowl, pulling himself further along the climbing wall.

“Okay, Mr Jackson,” you mutter. “If that's really how you want to play it.”

You pull on something within your stomach, a trick your sister Hazel was able to teach you when you visited her in the Roman camp all those months ago. You reach a hand out, grabbing the iron ore before it soars above your head after being ripped from the ground by your powers. It's not much – you're much better with a sword – but you throw it, using your powers to push it away from your body, straight towards Percy's face. It smacks him in the nose, making him cry and stumble. He slips from the ring he is hanging onto, dropping a few feet before finally latching onto another; blood oozes from his nose, and he glares up at you as you quicken your pace, hoping to put as much distance between you both as humanly possible.

“That wasn't very fair, you know!” Percy yells up.

“Gotta do what you gotta do!” you yell back, which of course prompts Percy to shoot a blast of water straight at your legs. You yelp, grip loosening on the ring you have grip on.

But then you're falling, because the thing about water is that it makes surfaces extremely slippery, and not even a child of Hades can overpower that. You desperately try latching onto something – anything – that can soften your fall, but your moving too quick, and the rings are zooming past, out of reach, and you know this is it. You're going to fall to the floor and break some bones and be out of commission for weeks, because that's what always happens when Percy gets competitive. You're starting to get real-

“Wingardium Leviosa!”

Another yelp is ripped from your throat, this one more a yelp of surprise as you suddenly become light as a feather. The wind stops whistling in your ears, replaced now by the gasps coming from the ground, and the sound of Percy yelling, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” over and over again.

Ever so gently, you are lowered onto the floor. As soon as your feet hit solid ground, you are engulfed by a crowd of Half-Bloods, all coming to make sure you're okay, have not been harmed despite that being the way of things in this place.

Percy clambers off the climbing wall and dashes to your side, wrapping you in a brotherly hug as soon as he reaches you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard-”

“'Course you didn't.”

“You had it coming!” He points to his nose, still dripping blood. “Look what you did to me!”

You roll your eyes before craning your neck to get a better view over the heads of your fellow campers. You catch sight of him immediately, leaning against the stands with his wand still twirling in his fingers, the tiniest of smirks present on his pale face.

Your stomach turns; he had used his magic, cast some sort of spell to stop you from hitting the floor.

You probably need to thank him for that.

However, as soon as he meets your eyes, he does nothing but wink and turn on his heel, strolling oh-so-casually towards cabin eleven.

----

“So are you going to tell me what that was?”

You scream. Your hands fly above your head, knocking the low hung lamp shade dangling from the roof of the Hades cabin.

Spinning, you catch sight of your father stood in the corner of your room, shrunken down to the size of a normal human being. He likes playing pretend, apparently, but you see right through it. His dark eyes are narrowed, and leaning against the wall beside him is the scythe he so often carries around with him.

“That's an intimidation tactic,” you pant, motioning to the scythe. “It's not gonna work me on, Big Guy.”

“Don't ignore my question,” he snaps. “What did that boy do to you when you were falling?”

You slowly straighten up. “You saw that?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why do you think I have an answer?” you exclaim. “I know just as much about the wizarding world as you do! I don't know what he did, but I'm not dead, so I'm not gonna bother questioning it.” You grab a pomegranate seed from the bowl beside your bed, popping it into your mouth before you point a stern finger at the god standing in your room. “And you shouldn't either; he saved your child's life.”

“My children are capable of protecting themselves. That's how you were raised.”

You roll your eyes, flopping down on your bed. “This again? Where do you get off talking about raising kids?”

For a brief second, Hades pauses. You savour it, the moment his face twists into one of uncertainty, as if only just then realising where he has messed up; he can talk all he wants about his children and how you're all just like him, but he can never claim to have made you into the people you are today.

You hum, smirking. “That's what I thought.”

Hades snatches the bowl of seeds out of your hand and slams them back onto the bedside table. The room rattles much more than necessary, but you spare the trembling walls only a single glance before turning your attention back on your father. He glares down at you, no longer justifying your attitude with words. He's waiting patiently for you to just open up and tell him exactly what happened, waiting for you to just admit that what happened out there was messed up, and unnatural, and you will never see Draco ever again if you can help it-

“He saved my life.”

You believe it, even though it takes every fibre of your willpower to admit such a thing. Demigods don't just get saved. They do the saving. They live their lives getting trained to protect themselves, because they know nobody else will. Today, all those years of training disappeared, and you should have died. You should have fallen to the ground as punishment for your lack of concentration, but Draco had stepped in and given you a second chance.

And maybe that's dramatic. Maybe looking at it as a second chance was taking it a step too far, but he had done something, and you can't just sit back and pretend otherwise.

Hades straightens up. In mortal form, his full height is only around five foot nine, but he still manages to look intimidating. It's the eyes. You wonder if people think the same thing about you when you look at them.

“My brothers and sisters have been voicing their concerns about you getting too close to the Malfoys,” he says, voice softer now. “I told them not to worry, that no child of mine would ever fraternise with people like them. And yet here we are.”

You pause. “Here we are, yeah.”

“Lucius won't be happy to hear his son has helped save the life of a Half-Blood.”

“Lucius Malfoy won't be happy, period. Plus, I haven't even spoken to him the entire time he's been here.”You push yourself up into a sitting position. “Draco isn't like Lucius, Dad. They are two separate people, just like me and you.”

Hades clenches his jaw. You've hit a nerve. You always do when you bring up just how desperately you want to be separated from your father, just how much you despise being told you look like him, or you do something like him.

He looks at you with those dark eyes and says, “You're stubborn, you know. That's a trait you get from me, not your mother.”

“You're grasping at straws now.”

“You're more like me than you'll ever be willing to admit, but everyone sees it. Nico and Bianca. . . they had little traits of me within them, but not as much as you. You really are my child.”

Your stomach clenches, and it's confusing. It's so, so confusing, and so painful, because there's a part of you that basks in these comments. He's your dad. No matter how much you try denying it, there has always been a part of you that wants to know you're a little bit like your dad, and yet there's that hostility that begs and clambers for any excuse you can use to go against such a thing.

You look away, fighting the urge to cry that always seems to rise to the surface when Hades is in your vicinity. “Can you just leave, please? I'm not going to stop talking to Draco just because you lot upstairs have a grudge against his family.”

Hades sighs. “I know you won't. But you can't say I didn't warn you.”

“Get out, Dad!”

When you next look up, the room is empty. Nico and Bianca's beds are desolate, pushed against the wall, suffering from years of neglect. Once again, you are alone. Outside, Draco's shadow passes the window, accompanied by Lucius.

----

Draco seems to be getting comfortable in camp.

Your father doesn't like this.

You see, Hades has a very annoying way of making his anger obvious, especially when the anger is pointed towards his children. You will be sat talking to Draco, having a seemingly normal conversation about whatever the days endeavours are holding, when suddenly a scream will plunge right through the centre of your brain, impossible to ignore.

It's painful sometimes. The headaches that often follow are the kind that leaves you sweating, unable to look into any form of light lest you make it worse. Hades doesn't take this into consideration, however, as he continues giving you these flashes throughout the next week and a half.

It's another one of his stupid fear tactics. You know it is. He wants to make you suffer so you'll be on his side through intimidation, and you're not willing to give in to him like that. Gods don't always get what they want. That's something they need to learn.

And so, you continue talking to Draco, and honestly, he's starting to become a friend. He's still a little drawn back, and you can only imagine the reasoning behind that is because Lucius is breathing down his neck every two seconds. Whilst Draco is taking the moral high ground and getting used to life at Camp Half-Blood, Lucius refuses to do such a thing. He spends his days brooding away in the Big House, getting angry when Chiron or any of the other Half-Bloods step foot in what he has now claimed as his domain. The Big House has basically become Out of Bounds whilst the Malfoys are in your presence, because Lucius throws a tantrum any time anyone besides him and his fellow wizards step foot inside of it.

It's on day twelve that you and Draco sit together in the grass upon the hill. In your lap is a colouring book that Percy stole for you a few years back, one you haven't touched because you very rarely have the time to just sit down and colour something in. He said it got rid of stress or something like that. You wonder if it works.

Draco lays down beside you, gazing up at the baby blue sky. He has one hand cupped across his forehead, the other resting on his stomach. His ice blue eyes are a little lighter when the sun hits them, and you can see some golden streaks in his silver hair.

You colour in a picture of Poseidon, already excited to show Percy the final product.

“Look at this picture a second,” you say after too many minutes of silence. “Tell me if that guy looks like Percy.”

Draco flicks his gaze over, lifting his head just slightly to get a better view. “Percy?”

“The son of Poseidon,” you confirm. “The annoying one who blew up your fountain.”

“Oh, him.” Draco scowls, dropping his head back to the grass. “I suppose it looks a little bit like him, yes. Why?”

You tilt the colouring book back and forth, humming as you inspect the drawing; it's badly done, of course, with the image probably taken from Google Images, drawn by some human who didn't know any better. For example, they drew him wearing some fancy toga-looking thing instead of his usual khaki shorts and Hawaiian button-up. You've also known Poseidon to enjoy getting his hair permed, but his hair is dead straight in the colouring book.

“I just think Percy looks a lot like his dad,” you reply. “Not in this picture, obviously – Poseidon wouldn't be caught dead with his eyebrows looking like that. But in real life, I swear, they're the picture of each other.”

Draco grunts. Not exactly the response you were looking for.

You glance down at him, raising a brow. “Not gonna add anything helpful to the conversation?”

“What could I possibly add? I don't know the Greek gods personally.”

“Really?”

Draco glares at you. “Forgive me for not fraternising with mythological gods, Y/N. I don't have quite the same relationship with them as you do.”

You hold up your hands in faux surrender, recognising his angry tone. “Alright, fair enough. No need to get grumpy.”

“You and Percy are really close.”

It isn't a question, and you suppose it doesn't have to be. Anyone who has known you for more than two seconds will be able to see that you and Percy are close, having been through so much together. “Yeah, we are. What's wrong with that?”

Draco slips his hand from his forehead over his eyes and mumbles, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” But his heart isn't in it, and you're not exactly convinced he's telling the truth. You haven't known Draco all that long, but you're pretty confident now in your abilities to pick up when he's angry, or frustrated, as you have seen it more often than any other emotion.

You glance at him, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”

“Yes. Why would I think there was something wrong with you having a friend?” He pauses a moment before adding, “He is just a friend, isn't he?”

It clicks.

Your cheeks heat up with the realisation. You're thankful that Draco is covering his eyes, because otherwise he would have surely been able to see your shocked expression, and that isn't the look you want to give off right now; you need to remain calm and collected, make sure you're reading this right before you go and lose your cool.

Awkwardly, you push the colouring book onto the grass and turn your attention fully on Draco. He stiffens when he feels you move, though he doesn't look at you. He doesn't even move his hand away from his face. You wonder if perhaps he doesn't want to show you his true expression, either.

“Yes,” you say. “Percy is just a friend. He's never been anything more than that.”

“Oh right. Nice.”

“Would...” You inhale, glancing down into camp. You're not used to this. Actual emotions, they're scary things. You've never been able to properly handle them. “Would that be an issue if he was?”

This time, Draco is unable to hide his embarrassment. Beneath his hands, his pale cheeks flush red, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows and says, “No. It's none of my business.”

“Well, it's just 'cause, like, you asked, and I just thought-”

“Thought what?” Finally he looks at you, eyes narrowed. “Thought I cared about what you got up to when I'm not around?”

You reel back at his tone. “What? No! Well – yeah, I guess, because clearly some part of you cares-”

“You and Percy can do whatever you want.” He stands, wiping the grass from the elbows of his fancy black blazer. “I honestly couldn't care less. It's not like I'm sticking around much longer, anyway.”

You raise a brow. “Are you mad? How the hell did that happen? I didn't even say anything!”

“I'm not bloody mad.” He groans, spinning on his heel as he runs his hands through his hair. You don't even go after him, too stunned to even move. Instead, you just watch his retreating form, only for him to stop a few feet away, turn back and say, “Do you just forget the fact that he was about to let you fall to your death?”

You freeze. This was not the turn you were expecting the conversation to make. “Come again?”

“On that climbing wall,” Draco exclaims. “He watched you fall, Y/N! He didn't do anything to stop it from happening, and I refuse to believe he wasn't able to, because from what I've heard, he's one of the most powerful things in this bloody camp!”

“Things?”

“Oh, you know what I meant!”

You shoot up then, anger flooding your system. This is happening too often. You're losing your grip on the control you have trained so hard to gather, and it's all Draco's fault. “No, Draco, I don't actually know what you mean. In case you've forgotten, you're in our home, so don't you dare come in here claiming to know what we see is right and wrong. Percy might be one of the stronger demigods, but so am I. I can handle myself, and Percy knows that! That's the only reason he didn't do anything-”

“That's his excuse, is it?” Draco laughs, a bitter noise that makes your blood boil. “I wonder how long it took for him to brainwash you into believing that.”

That's what does it.

You remember all those times Percy has saved your life. You remember spending weeks by his side, on the run from the worlds most terrifying monsters. You remember crying with your belief that he was dead, imagining a life without your best friend, your companion.

And here Draco is, acting like he knows Percy better than you, deeming him a bad person just because of a single mishap he happened to witness, a mishap he doesn't even fully understand.

Behind you, the black cloud arises from the ground. Without even looking, you know it's there, consuming you in tendrils of darkness. Draco's eyes widen, a cry of surprise escaping him before he stumbles back.

The cloud follows him.

In your head, you listen to the screams of the souls that make up that cloud, the souls you can control with nothing more than a brief thought nowadays. Draco cries out, nearly falling over his feet. Soon, you can no longer see him as he disappears behind the black curtain.

You stay exactly where you are, watching him run down the hill, being chased by this power you have total control over. It's fuelled by anger, and you know you're going to get in trouble for doing it, but in this moment, you don't even care. You'll deal with the repercussions later, so long as Draco learns his lesson now.

It's once the young wizard has disappeared round the corner that you let the souls drop. They sink back into the floor, a rush of energy slamming back into your body now that the strenuous work is over. The hill you are standing on goes silent bar the sound of the snickering tree nymphs.

And then, just by your left ear, your fathers voice whispers, “Good job, Y/N. Definitely my child.”

----

Percy always knows when something is wrong with you.

There's something in the air, he says, a buzzing that he recognises as something he too possesses when he's angry. It's like the children of the Big Three communicate their anger through this weird little hum that only the other mistakes can hear.

He must notice it now.

He sits across from you at the lake, his toes dipping in the water as you keep your knees drawn to your chest, fingers sunk in the dirt. You keep your eyes on the tide as it sways in and out, but Percy keeps his eyes on you, waiting for the moment you will turn and look at him.

But you don't.

You don't want to answer his questions right now. You don't want to go into detail about what Draco said, about what you did to him, about how guilty you feel even though you know you shouldn't. You have used that scare tactic on so many people in the past, and it's always been for good reason – not once have you ever felt guilty about it.

Not until now.

Finally, Percy sighs and says, “So you're just gonna sit there and not tell me what's up?”

Leave it to him to be blunt.

You glance over and shrug, unsure where to even begin. You want to tell him the truth, of course; he's like a brother to you. The world always feels a little off when you're not telling him every little detail of your life. But gods, how do you explain this without sounding crazy?

“Do you want me to guess?” Percy continues, shuffling a little closer to you. “'Cause I'm good at that. Especially with you.”

“Try it.”

He hums, leaning back. “It definitely has something to do with the wizard boy.”

Your eyes snap up. “How did you know?”

“It's always about the wizard boy; you two have been joined at the hip since Chiron declared his residency here.” Again, he hums, continuing his analysis. His sea green eyes are narrowed, his lower lip protruding in a pout. “Did you two get into an argument?”

“Kind of.”

“Was he taking his fathers side?”

“No.”

“Was he insulting one of us?”

“...Kind of.”

Percy raises a brow. “So I'm getting warmer.”

You sigh, closing your eyes in exasperation. “He thought you and I were a couple.”

Percy pauses. It's now an awkward pause, especially considering he bursts into laughter not three seconds after. His shoulders jolt, eyes widening as he claps a hand to leg as if to stabalise himself. “You're kidding.”

“Alright, Seaweed Brain, hands off.” You push him away and fold your arms over your chest. “But yes, he thought you and I were a couple.”

“And that bothered you so much that you got into an argument with him and now you're huffing?”

You glare. “You're really enjoying this, huh?”

Percy nudges your shoulder light-heartedly. “I'm just messing. Tell me what happened.”

And so, as Percy gets comfortable, you begin your retelling, going into the details about Draco's little tantrum, and your retaliation to said tantrum. Percy interjects with a little “Aww” when you talk about defending him, to which you push his arm to get him to pipe down.

You feel even worse once the story has been spilled and you are able to see everything in hindsight; should you still be mad? Did Draco deserve that kind of torment?

Percy is silent for a moment once the story has been told. He looks off into the sea, as if calling to the waves for an answer, a piece of advice he can give you.

Finally, his wise mind comes up with, “That sounds shitty.”

“Yeah,” you grumble. “It was.”

“Sounds like he fancies you.”

Your cheeks heat up. “I don't think so. Not any more, anyway.”

“And you're disappointed about that?”

You shrug, because you really don't know. It would be much less hassle if you weren't disappointed about it, but you can't deny that you don't enjoy the feeling of Draco being mad at you. It feels off. It feels like you've done something wrong, even though you don't think you have.

“You know,” Percy continues, “I feel a little guilty being the reason you two have fallen out. I wasn't even there and I'm still causing trouble.”

You scoff. “Yeah. You have a habit of doing that, don't you?”

“I can't help it.” He leans forward, nudging your arm. “What if I have a little chat with Draco?”

You perk up, stomach turning at the mere suggestion. “Oh Percy, no. . .”

“What do you think I'm gonna do?”

“Bully him. Make him hate me even more.”

“The fact that that thought bothers you so much just proves to me how much I need to step in and offer my expertise. Annabeth didn't fall in love with me for no reason, and you know that.”

You open your mouth to object, but the words fall short, because he has a point; out of everyone you've ever known, Percy is the one who has been able to keep up a healthy relationship the longest. He and Annabeth argue like cat and dog, yet they still give off the aura of two young people who are truly in love with another.

That's rare.

You slump back against a tree. “Just don't say anything stupid to him. Please.”

He's already standing up, brushing dirt off the seat of his trousers. “Of course not. Give me ten minutes. I'll have him seeing sense in no time.” ----

Draco tries his best to stop the panic.

It's an old habit, one he hasn't been able to kick. He sees a demigod, and immediately his heart starts beating really fast, and his stomach drops, and his fingers twitch in the direction of his wand. It's a self defence reflex, one that has been built into him from day one, but he's amongst them now, and he needs to stop it.

But seeing Percy Jackson walking towards him is never going to be a sight he's going to get used to.

Draco remembers that picture you were colouring in the grass the day previous. You said Percy looked just like his father, and Draco can see the resemblance now. From what little he knows about the true Greek god of the sea, he can tell just where that analysis came from; Percy's black hair, his sea green eyes, even the way he carries himself like he owns the place.

It screams My dad is a god.

Draco pulls his shoulders back and gives Percy his best game face, trying desperately to look like he knows what he's doing, like he hasn't been lost in his own thoughts from the moment you looked at him with that anger on your face. He hates that it affected him so much, that he can't get the image out of his head, that he wants nothing more than to storm over to the Hades cabin and apologise for ever upsetting you.

“Draco, my man!” Percy exclaims, though his heart clearly isn't in it. “How are you? Good?”

“Fine.”

Percy clicks his fingers, giving awkward finger guns. “That's good. So good.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around. Then, out of nowhere, he snaps his gaze down to Draco's and says, “So, I've been told there's a bit of trouble in paradise.”

Draco pauses. “Paradise? I'd hardly call this place paradise, Jackson.”

Percy raises a brow; it infuriates Draco, who is so used to his comments making people angry. Percy just seems amused. “Your accent really doesn't do my last name justice when you say it like that.”

Draco scowls. “What do you want from me, Percy? I've got nothing to say to you.”

“Well, no. You don't. Technically, I have nothing to say to you, either, but I'm a nosy little shit head, so here we are.”

“What makes you think I'll tell you anything?”

Percy grins and takes an abrupt seat next to Draco, shoving his shoulder like they've been best friends for years. “If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you what you-” He prods a finger into Draco's chest. “-want to know.”

Draco's heart hammers. He stares at the grinning demigod, debating whether or not to just jinx him here and now rather than let this absurd conversation go any further.

But then the options come into his head.

He has questions about you. Of course he does. You're just. . . a force to be reckoned with. You're such an individual, unlike any Draco has ever encountered in his life, and he wants to know more. Percy could be the key to having those questions answered.

He coughs into his hand before saying, “I suppose I can talk a little bit.”

Percy perks up. “Oh, really? Great! So what makes you think Y/N and I are a couple?”

Draco's cheeks heat up. “Y/N told you about that?”

“Y/N tells me everything. It's part of the whole being best friends thing.”

Draco shrugs, awkwardly glancing down at his hands knotted upon his knees. “It was a stupid assumption to make. I know that now. Just. . . at the time, with how close you both are, it seemed the most plausible thing to think.”

“Well, it was stupid.”

“Yes-”

“And did this assumption-” He says this with a snooty British accent that makes Draco glare even harder. “-piss you off?”

Draco pauses; here is where he could very easily trip up. He needs to choose his words carefully.

“Yes.”

Percy tilts his head. “Because you. . . love Y/N?”

“Love?”

Percy raises his hands in faux surrender, though there is a grin flashing across his face. “Sorry, sorry. Do you fancy Y/N?”

Draco swallows the golf ball sized lump in his throat; he wants to die. He literally wants to throw himself into the lake and never resurface. How has Percy managed to butter him up in less than fifteen minutes?

“I suppose,” Draco mutters. “They are very – um – attractive.”

“Big brain,” Percy says, nodding. “I get it, man. Smart people are hot.”

“Uh, yes. Yes, they are also very smart-”

“And scary.” Percy hollows out his cheeks, shaking his head at nothing. Draco is starting to get annoyed. “Y/N is terrifying, and let me tell you, when a person can intimidate me? Wow. Marry me on the spot, is what I say.”

“Why don't you just ask Y/N out then?”

The words come out harsher than Draco planned, but he can't help it. Percy is sat there, basically drooling over you, and it's driving him mad. It's been driving him mad from the instant he got that stupid thought stuck in his brain that maybe – just maybe – you and Percy were something a little more than just the best of friends.

Percy is grinning, though.

Draco scowls. “What's so funny?”

“You really like them, don't you?”

“I never said-”

“Personally, I wouldn't touch Y/N with a six foot pole,” Percy continues, which just makes Draco even angrier, and he no longer knows just what he wants. “I'm talking about my girlfriend, Annabeth. The blonde girl. Daughter of Athena.”

It takes a moment for Draco to remember who Annabeth is. But then it dawns on him, and suddenly everything is making sense.

His cheeks warm again. “Oh. Right.”

“Yep. So that's that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Nah, don't be. It's not me you need to apologise to.”

Draco bites his lower lip, understanding that Percy is right; he said some awful things, and he put you on the spot when you really didn't deserve it. You were doing nothing more than talking about your best friend, and Draco let his own jealousy push to the forefront.

He looks over at Percy to see the demigod grinning again, an expression he often seems to have. Draco wonders why you don't like him, why you decided to spend all those hours with him instead of Percy.

And as if Percy can read his mind, he says, “Y/N likes you too, you know. Like, properly likes you.”

Draco pushes up from the grass, gives Percy a grateful smile before heading out on his mission – to apologise.

----

You run into Lucius Malfoy shortly after Percy storms off.

It's quite a chance meeting, though part of you can't help but feel that maybe Lucius had it all planned out from the beginning. He holds himself like a man who knows exactly what he wants, like a man who doesn't understand what a chance meeting is.

You pause in the grass, watching him wade towards you. In your hand, you hold your sword, but that clearly isn't enough of an intimidation tactic against the tall, pale wizard. He stops only when he's feet in front of you, and with his posh accent, he says, “Y/N.”

“Mr Malfoy.”

“Where is Draco?”

“Beats me. He isn't my son.”

Lucius's nostrils flare. “Can you put that sword down whilst talking to me, please? It's disrespectful.”

You look at the celestial bronze blade and tilt it back and forth. The sun hits off the hilt, illuminating the Greek words inscribed upon it. “No. I quite like it in my hand.” You look back at Lucius and smile pleasantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr Malfoy? Are you lost?”

Lucius grits his teeth. Something throbs in his jaw, and honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he were to draw back now and punch you square in the face.

Or he could just cast a spell, or whatever it is wizards do.

“You know, Y/N, Draco has told me an awful lot about you,” he growls.

“Oh?”

“Yes. And quite frankly, the details he has given me only further prove my theory that your kind are just unnatural.”

He's only trying to wind you up. You keep that in mind as you stand before him, listening to him spew such hatred; you could so easily just chop him to pieces right now. You could end this for everybody, but you think of Draco and how he would react and that thought alone is enough to silence the violent thoughts before you lose grip on your powers.

“I'm sorry you think that,” you mumble. “Hopefully you'll be out of camp soon enough and won't have to bother with my kind for much longer.”

Lucius laughs. There's no humour in it. It makes you ill just listening to it. “He told me about your little parlour trick – raising the dead, is it?”

“Controlling the dead.”

“That's Dark Magic, dear. That's the devils work if I've ever heard of it.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the chance is ripped away by the sound of someone else's voice ringing in your ear.

“I don't really enjoy being called the devil. He and I are two very different legends.”

You close your eyes. “Dad, go home.”

He doesn't listen to you. Of course he doesn't. Instead, he steps up to your side and places a warm hand on your shoulder. When you look up, he's smiling at Lucius with the same pleasant smile you gave him only seconds before – the pleasant smile that hides the fact you're on the verge of murdering someone.

“Is there a problem here?” Hades asks.

“Who are you?” Lucius demands, and you very nearly laugh at his stupidity.

Hades actually does laugh at his stupidity as he motions between you. “Surely you notice the family resemblance?”

Lucius stares, and then it all clicks into place. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open in a look you can only label horror. He stumbles back and says, “Hades?”

“A god,” you pipe up. “So watch what you say. I can't hold this one back.” You turn to Hades with an exasperated look. “Who let you crawl out of Tartarus again?”

“Nobody lets me do anything, dear,” Hades replies, keeping his eyes on the horrified Lucius Malfoy. “I just heard what our little friend here was saying to you, and I thought I'd come and put him in his place. Can't have someone insulting my dear child, can I?”

“You've never intervened before.”

Hades pushes you backwards, ignoring what you've just said. “So, Lucius; would you like a little duel beforehand, or are you just going to let me end your life, plain and simple?” He pauses, and when Lucius doesn't reply, he adds, “There's no shame in taking the easy way out.”

“Dad-”

“Stay out of this, Y/N. This is between me and-”

“Dad? What's wrong?”

Your head snaps up. Draco is stumbling down the hill, eyebrows raised as he glances between Hades and his father. Your heart jumps at the sight of him.

“Draco, pack up your things,” Lucius demands, staring at Hades as if afraid to look away lest your dad make any sudden movements. “We're leaving.”

“Oh, happy days!” You rush forward and grab your fathers elbow, dragging him back as much as you can. “Did you hear that, Dad? They're leaving!”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

You whirl on Draco. “What do you mean you're not going anywhere? Can't you see the predicament we're in right now?”

Draco raises his brow, clearly still confused as to what the hell he has just walked in on. “Who is this?”

“This is my dad.”

Draco's skin pales even more, if that is even possible. Hades turns, gives the young boy a pleasant little wave before he starts rolling up his sleeves, eyeing Lucius up again.

“Oh, right,” Draco squeaks.

You turn your attention back to Hades, latching onto his arm yet again. “Come on, Dad. This is pointless. They're leaving camp-”

“Y/N, I'm not going anywhere before we talk.”

“Draco, this really isn't the time-”

“Make up your mind, Lucius. . .” Hades sing-songs. “Quick and easy, or slow and painful? I can do both.”

Your heart hammers in your chest; this is not how you wanted things to go, not at all. You wish to every other god listening that Draco will just agree to go with his father, that he will leave and never return.

But you don't really want that, do you?

“Curse you, Zeus, you mind-reading bitch,” you hiss beneath your breath.

Draco glances at you. “What?”

“Never mind.” You grab Draco's shoulders and shove him back. “Just go, Draco, please. My dad is going to-”

But you never get to tell Draco what your dad is going to do, not before Lucius Malfoy cries out, “Avada Kadavra!”

You don't understand what's happened; the words just yelled by the Malfoy man are unfamiliar to you, jibberish if you've ever heard it, but Draco cries out and dashes forward. A blinding flash of light slams makes you stumble before Draco's arms wrap around your waist, throwing you to the ground with him hovering over you. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from your own, but neither of you get to bask in each others closeness, because all hell has suddenly broken loose.

Hades is so powerful. Sometimes you forget that. You've read the stories, and you know he's a god, but sometimes, all he is to you is your annoying dad who shows up every now and then to be annoying, and then he leaves. Sometimes you forget he can literally raise the dead in two point six seconds.

And judging by the corpses now stumbling around you, that's exactly what he has done.

“Oh my god,” Draco mumbles.

You push him away and clamber to your feet. “Dad, stop!”

The wind is billowing, however, and your words fall on deaf ears. Lucius has fallen to the floor, staring up at your father with a look of pure, unfiltered horror. Hades stands over him, now in full god form, and the sight is breathtaking. He's at his full height now, standing over everyone with his arms outstretched. Dirt billows around him, and a black light emanates from his body, blinding if you weren't his child. Draco has fallen to the floor, covering his head with his arms, and you are so, so happy he has the common sense to look away.

You stumble forward, latching onto your fathers clothes. “Dad, stop this now! Please!”

“How dare you?” Hades's voice shakes the trees. His eyes are pitch black. He is a god. “How dare you use your filthy wizard spells against my child?”

“I'm fine!” you cry. “Dad, I'm fine! Draco saved me! Look!” You helplessly wave your arms over your head. Beside you, a corpse laughs a high pitched laugh. You glare at it and say, “Shut up.”

The wind only grows stronger as Hades continues to bellow his threats and his curses. Lucius is too stunned to even move. Behind you, Draco cries out your name, tries reaching for your sleeve, but you pull away and continue yelling up at your father, trying to make him see sense.

“Dad, I'm fine! If you kill him, I'll never forgive you!” You grapple for something else, some other excuse you can use. “I'll – I'll never come back to Camp Half-Blood! I'll stay in the mortal world forever and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it!”

Hades falters. He glances down at you with those dark, sunken eyes and he says, “You know you're not safe there, Y/N. Don't joke about such things.”

“Then let him go,” you beg. “Please, Dad. I never ask you for anything, but I'm asking – begging – you for this. Just let him go.”

Hades tilts his head. “You're standing up for this piece of dirt?”

“Draco,” you pant, as if that is enough explanation. “Draco just saved my life, Dad. The least you can do is spare his fathers life.”

The wind dies down. Dirt topples back to the floor. The walking corpses drop to their knees before the soil reaches around them and drags them back into their graves, where hopefully they will remain for another few years. Slowly, your father shrinks back down to his usual five seven stature, his eyes gaining their normal dark colouring again. He continues staring.

You stare back for only a second before you spin on your heel and march towards Draco. You yank him up by his collar and shove him back, hissing, “Go grab your stuff and get out of here. This is the shit you're gonna get wound up in if you stay. You don't deserve that.”

Draco, flustered, grabs your shoulders and pushes back, keeping himself rooted to the ground. You want to cry. You need him to leave. You need him to be safe. You can't let him witness something like that ever again.

“Please, Draco,” you croak out. “Save yourself the bother-”

“You're crying.”

You groan, quickly swiping beneath your eyes to rid yourself of the tears you didn't even realise were falling. “No, I'm not.”

Draco wraps his arms around you and drags you into his shoulder. You don't really know why you melt into him in the way you do; it just kind of happens. Feeling the fabric of his shirt against your cheek, his arms around your shoulders, his body against yours – it's as if all the stresses of the evening flood out of you in a single swoop, replaced by a relief you didn't even know you were in such dire need of.

It's like Hades and Lucius don't even exist any more. It's just you and Draco, swaying back and forth in the darkness, saying nothing and that being enough.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he whispers. “Not until you know.”

You pause, but don't pull away. “Until I know what?”

“That – That you're special.”

You look up, raising a brow. “Is that a demigod joke?”

Draco groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “No. That's not what I meant. I meant – like – you're special to me.”

“Okay...”

He squeezes his eyes closed. “What I'm saying is, I don't want to leave you. I don't want to go back to the wizarding world and pretend I never met you. I want this – whatever this is – to last a long, long time.”

Your heart thunders in your chest. Beneath you, the ground rumbles, like the floor is hungry. “Draco...”

“I don't care what my father thinks of it,” he says, voice lower now. “I haven't been this happy in forever. I haven't met anyone like you before, and I'm so, so grateful you don't hate me.” He blinks. “Percy told me that, by the way – that you don't hate me. He wasn't lying, was he?”

You laugh. “No, he wasn't lying.”

“Oh, great.” He pulls you closer. “So, as I was saying-”

“Oh, for the love of me!” Hades claps his hands impatiently. “Just kiss them already, you idiot! Why do mortals take so long to get to the point?”

Draco looks over your shoulder, face going red. “Are you giving me permission to kiss Y/N?”

Hades rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Just get on with it. I'm ageing.”

“You're immortal, old man.”

“Watch your mouth, little one, or you're grounded.”

Your laugh is broken by Draco's kiss.

In the background, Lucius yells in frustration, but he quietens as soon as he looks at Hades. You don't even care, though, because once again, it's like neither of them are really there. It's just you and Draco. There is no world separating you, there is no problems, you are the same. His hands trail along your jawline before crawling over the back of your neck, holding you in place, as if you would ever willingly pull away.

Beneath you, the ground continues to growl. You imagine it's the dead people giving you a round of applause.

---

“Lumos.”

You crack an eye open. Beside you, Draco shifts, lifting the covers further over his head. Through the thin material of the quilt, you can make out a dim yellow glow coming from Draco's wand.

You roll onto your back, nudging his arm with your elbow. He pauses, taking a few seconds before he pulls the covers back down, revealing his messy bed head and bare torso. He gives you a grin and says, “What are you doing awake?”

“You woke me,” you reply, before nodding towards the book resting on his lap. “What's that?”

“Oh, this? Nothing. Just a little book I picked up from the library the last time I was at Hogwarts.”

You raise a brow; you haven't seen Draco casually read in quite a while. Any time he has his head stuck in a book, it's usually to learn some new potion, or some new spell that he can show the harpies to impress them when they ask for a magic show. However, looking down at the book currently perched on his knees, you can see this isn't just some simple recipe book for wizards – the pages are filled with text, with very little pictures to accompany them.

“Can I read it with you?” you ask.

Draco's cheeks light up. “Maybe you should just go back to sleep. It's pretty late-”

He goes quiet when you rest your drowsy head on his chest, tugging the quilt up to your chin. You hear him sigh, a noise of content before he looks down at the page and places his wand beneath the words. In bold at the top is the title Hades and Persephone.

“Oh, my mum hated her,” you say.

Draco chuckles. “I can imagine.”

You trace your eyes over the words. You can't really make them out with your dyslexia, but Draco reads them for you, because he knows. He reads the story of your father and his true wife, pausing to ask you your opinions, or if you know anything about any of it. You tell him you don't, but you want him to keep reading, so he does, and together you learn about your father and his ways.

Finally, when Draco reaches the end of that particular story, you look up at him and say, “Why are you reading this?”

He shrugs. You don't buy it, though, and continue waiting for his response. He rolls his eyes at your patient silence and says, “Remember when you asked me if I'd ever read any of the Greek myths?”

You raise a brow. “Yes...”

“I hadn't read any of them. But I realised it's kind of part of your history, isn't it? These myths, the people and things you talk about. If I really want to understand you, I have to get familiar with a few of these terms, don't I?”

A lump forms in your throat. “You're reading these for me?”

“Of course.” He slams the book closed and says, “Quiz me. I can tell you who Demeter is right now.”

You stare at him a moment longer, overwhelmed beyond words. Instead of giving Draco a pop quiz on all things Greece, you reach up and press your lips to his own, whispering the unknown words of “I love you,” against his mouth.

Draco chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “I love you, too.”

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janeyseymour · 3 years

Text

The Puzzle Of Life

Life is a puzzle. And Jane Seymour is more than confused as to where her puzzle piece fits. As she finds, it fits somewhere, just perhaps maybe not where she thought it would. Life works in mysterious ways.

WC: 3273

Jane Seymour was more than confused as to where she fit into this crazy puzzle that she found herself in. Growing up was hard for the young lass- having been one of the younger siblings in a family of twelve and as shy and quiet as she was, it was quite difficult for her to fit in with her family. Even when she was put in front of Henry, the blonde knew that it was not where she fit into the puzzle of life. As queen, she did her best to appear queenly and fit into this picture perfect family that He wished to show to the public. Ultimately though, she knew she would never fit into the puzzle piece. If he had thrown away Catherine of Aragon’s puzzle piece that seemingly fit for twenty four years as well as Anne Boleyn’s piece after three years, he would surely throw hers away. She never gave him the chance, for she had gone and died- throwing away her own puzzle piece to his puzzle of life in the process.

Five-hundred and some years later, Jane Seymour- the former third wife of Henry VIII- was reincarnated. Five-hundred and some years later, the meek and mild woman found herself in a house with the five other wives of her beloved. Five-hundred and some years later, she was back to trying to make her puzzle piece fit into the craziness of the world- a world that was much different than the one she was used to. It was hard to do- the women in the house had already found their places and their spaces, and Jane was left to try to figure out where she fell into the puzzle. Catherine and Cathy had paired off, Anne and Kat paired off with Anna joining them and creating “the chaotic 3” as they loved to call themselves. Where was Jane to fit? Everyone else had found where their puzzle piece had fit, and the blonde was convinced she would never find where her piece fit. Why would she?

The woman secluded herself for some time after they had been brought back into this new century. Knowing she had a temper, she stayed away from the women who had someone forged a family without her, for she didn’t want to startle them and break any good that the five others had forged. Once, she lashed out and startled the entire house. Katherine Howard would not come near her for weeks apart from in the show when they had to interact. Even then, the third queen noticed the way the fifth would seemingly be relaxed with Catherine and Anne before getting to Jane. Once she stood before the third queen, something shifted in her, and she was stiff as a board and her roast fell flat amongst the audience.

Slowly, the woman began to get control over her temper- participating in meditation practices and the power of time together helped mend together the “broken” woman. She began to infiltrate herself into the family that they had created, but the feelings of being an outsider had only dissipated slightly.

Jane Seymour had found herself growing close with Katherine Howard, forming a bond that was about as close to a mother-daughter bond as she would find.

“Katherine, we have to leave for the show in about seven minutes. Please be outside in five,” Jane knocked on the door lightly, not wanting to startle the young queen who had only just begun to relax (as much as the fifth queen could) around her.

“Did Anne not tell you?” the pink queen opened the door to reveal herself still in pajamas, her nose and cheeks a dusty pink. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m staying home tonight. Have a good show though Jane.” The woman offered a meek smile before breaking into a fit of coughs that rattled her lungs. Unexpectedly, the teen pushed past the blonde at the door and made a dash for the bathroom. She threw herself at the toilet, only barely getting there before heaving into the bowl.

“Cathy?” Jane called for the woman who intimidated her the least. When she heard the blue queen pop out of her bedroom, she continued, “I’m calling out today. Someone’s got to take care of Katherine.” The blonde shocked herself at how much maternal energy was radiating from her at that moment, especially given that Katherine was throwing up- one of her biggest fears and triggers. Then and there though, it didn’t matter.

The third queen took a deep breath before following the fifth queen into the bathroom and kneeling down beside her.

“Let it all out darling, you’re okay,’ she offered sweet nothings as she tied the girls hair back.

“Y-you don’t have to-” the sick queen began heaving again. “S-stay. I’ll be okay.”

The third queen only continued gently rubbing the girl’s back before replying gently, “It’s okay love. Let someone take care of you for once.”

The other four queens would come home that night to see Katherine curled into Jane sleeping peacefully.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Anne expressed her gratitude begrudgingly.

“Of course. It wasn’t a problem.” The silver monarch allowed herself to feel the warmth coming from the teen curled into her side. She could get used to taking care of someone like this.

And indeed she did. Jane found that her puzzle piece fit with Katherine’s. From that moment on, Katherine followed Jane around like a duckling, much to the annoyance of the second queen.

By extension, this meant that Jane Seymour would have to bury the hatchet with Anne Boleyn. Anne Boleyn, her predecessor and a woman who still occasionally shot glares at the woman for getting close with her cousin. The two would work it out in the end.

“Anne, can we please talk?” Jane knocked on the green door, tired of walking on eggshells around the green queen and ready to put any hard feelings to rest.

“What is there to talk about Seymour?” The second queen opened the door and leaned against the frame.

“May I come in?”

Anne thought for a second before standing to the side and allowing the silver queen to enter her room. Jane wasn't quite sure what to do with herself, so she stepped in a few paces before stopping and standing awkwardly.

“Stop doing that,” Anne commanded as she pushed past the other queen and flopped onto her bed ungracefully.

“I beg your pardon?” the silver queen replied, although there was no malice in her voice. She had come to talk to her predecessor in a civil manner, and was determined not to lose her temper no matter how the second queen acted towards her.

“Stop being so awkward,” the green queen demanded from her successor. “Stop walking on eggshells around me, and take a seat.” Anne watched in amusement as the third queen quickly scanned the room for a place to sit before settling herself on the ground in a ball.

“Sorry,” Jane dropped her eyes to the floor. The second queen watched her carefully for a few beats before realizing the third queen was not about to continue talking.

“Well, you came to me. What was it you wanted to talk about?” The woman began to take out her space buns.

“Oh,” The woman on the floor looked up bashfully. “That’s right. I just-” she paused to mull over how she wanted to word what she was about to say. “I think we need to bury the hatchet. For us, for Katherine, for the house. So, I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you this: I’m sorry for what happened in our past lives. To begin with, I never wanted to marry him in the first place. I was twenty-eight, and at that point quite old to have never been married before. I didn’t mind not having a man, but you know how it was back then. My father and brother pushed me towards him, trying to move up classes. And, I never in a million years thought that Henry courting me would end with you being- you know. If I had even thought that idea would cross his mind, I never would have been with him in the first place. I wholeheartedly thought he would divorce you like he did Catherine, but-”

“Catalina,” Anne interrupted.

“I don’t think I’ve quite made it to the point where she would want me to call her Catalina. Maybe back then, but certainly not now, but that’s besides the point,” Jane rushed out. Boleyn opened her mouth to rebut, but Jane continued on.

“I thought he would divorce you. When I found out he was going to execute you,” Jane paused to take a deep breath. “I tried so hard to stop him. I knew we had bad blood then, but I knew you were innocent. I did everything I could to try to convince him otherwise, but he wouldn’t hear it. The last time I tried, he threatened to take my head off too for treason.”

“Jane, I forgave you a long time ago for that whole...” The queen in green searched for the appropriate word as she crossed the room and settled next to the blonde. “...situation. I know you never would have done that to me. And please, seriously... know that it wasn’t your fault at all. It was all his fault.”

“Well,” Jane twiddled her thumbs nervously. “But I was the-”

Anne intervened, laying a steady hand over two shaking ones. “If it wasn’t you, it would have been someone else. I guarantee it.”

“Okay then,” the nervous woman sighed as she mustered up the courage to ask her next question. “If you’ve forgiven me, why are you still harsh towards me?”

“If I’m being honest Seymour, it’s what’s expected from us, right?”

“It- it doesn’t have to be that way. I’d like to make amends,” Jane whispered quietly.

“Well, that isn’t all,” the second monarch admitted. When the blonde’s head tilted in confusion, she continued, “Kat’s really taken a liking to you. I suppose I’m jealous. It’s silly, I know but-”

“I never meant to take her away from you. I can back off,” Jane was ready to relinquish the first bond that she had made within the household for the time being if it meant her predecessor and her could bury any hard feelings between the two.

“Now, I never said that,” the green queen chided gently. “I know it’s silly. And besides, I know that Kat needs someone who will reign her in when she’s getting a little wild. She needs someone to look after her, and-”

“You look after her just fine Anne,” the silver queen complimented.

“Well thank you, but, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me,” Anne giggled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I look after her the best that I can, but she needs someone who has maternal energy. Let’s face it: I am not one to radiate that sort of energy. I’m like the cool older sister. You, on the other hand, exude mum energy.”

“I-”

“It’s not a bad thing. It’ll take some time for me to get used to Kat not following me around constantly, but you’re good for her.”

“Thank you,” Jane shot her a grateful smile.

“So, for Katherine’s sake, are we good?” Anne held out a hand.

“For Katherine’s sake.” The third queen took the second’s, shaking it before adding, “But for what it’s worth Anne, I do hope we’re good for our sake too.”

“I’m sure we will be Jane. I’m sure we will be.”

Over time, Jane began to extend her olive branches with the fourth and sixth queen as well. It was Anna who was next. There weren't any revolving issues that fell between the two women. Cleves was just an intimidating woman to the demure queen.

“Oi Seymour, you got a second?” the red queen asked as she knocked on the grey door.

Jane opened the door, somewhat surprised to see the fourth queen standing before her before smiling softly (albeit a nervous one), “Of course. You can come in if you’d like.” With the invitation, Anna stepped into the room and looked around.

“Take a seat if you wish,” the blonde gestured to her bed and then the desk chair, giving the woman in front of her options.

Once the two were settled, the red monarch spoke, “So you’ve made good with Howard, and now amends with Boleyn too?” Jane nodded. “That’s good,” she hummed.

“Yes, it’s quite nice,” the third queen agreed.

“So I guess I’m here to ask, are we good?” For the first time since they had been back, the confident Anna of Cleves looked nervous, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’d like to think we are, yes?” Jane was confused. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. You’ve just kept to yourself quite a bit until these last few weeks. I wanted to make sure we were good, you know?” the fourth queen stated, although there was no accusatory tone laced in her voice.- it was genuine.

“Yeah we’re okay. It’s just been hard adjusting to these new times. I know it’s been a while but-”

“Everyone has their own timeline. It’s cool Seymour. Really.”

“Thank you,” Jane sighed with relief. “I needed that.”

“No problem.” Anna stood up from her spot. “So we’re good? No hard feelings over anything?” She stuck her hand out awkwardly; the gesture resembled Anne’s.

“For sure,” Jane grabbed the hand quickly, a smirk appearing on her face.

She was well on her way to finding out where her puzzle piece fit.

Catherine Parr was a mystery to Jane Seymour. But the two had found their common ground- or their difference that would allow them to bond- as well.

“Catherine?” Jane knocked lightly on the blue door at the end of the hallway. The signature poof of hair with a pen stuck in it haphazardly made an appearance.

“Hey Jane, what can I do for you?” It was a surprise to see the third queen outside her door; she never went past the pink room- not an unpleasant surprise, but a surprise nonetheless.

“Uh, I’m- you know what? Nevermind, I can just ask Kat for help. I’m so sorry for interrupting your time.” The silver queen went to close the door, but the writer’s hand caught it quickly.

“It’s not an issue. How can I help you, for real?” Jane studied the woman’s face for a few seconds. There was no sense of impatience or lying to be detected; Catherine Parr was an earnest and honest woman.

Deciding to bite the bullet, the much less educated queen rushed out, “I’m having a bit of trouble with the changes in the script and I was wondering if you could help me, but now I realize it’s foolish to ask the writ-”

“I’d be more than happy to help Jane. I was actually just going over it myself. Would you care to come in?”

The script had been sorted out a long while ago, and the two had fallen into casual conversation.

“So, Anne tells me that you’ve made amends?”

“I have,” Jane smiled a bit proudly. “It’s nice to have... a friend.”

“She said the same.”

“Can I be real with you for a second?” the third queen asked candidly. At the gentle nod of the head from the sixth queen, she continued. “This whole ‘being reincarnated 500 years later’ thing is hard. I know the five of you have this sort of found family idea circulating, but I for the life of me... Well I fear that I’m not sure where my puzzle piece fits.”

“I understand that,” Cathy offered sympathetically. “It’s been really hard on all of us, especially when you consider the way the six of us have been put up against each other for centuries now.”

Jane couldn’t help but agree.

“But I think it’s really nice that we all have each other now. I’ve noticed that you’ve got quite a bond with Kat. And you’re civil with Anne and Anna now.”

“And you, I’d like to think,” the blonde added.

“Yes,” Catherine agreed. “And me.”

“So,” Jane hummed, trying to pick the conversation back up, for there had been a lull in it. “You married my brother?” Jane laughed lightly.

That left one queen left: Catherine of Aragon. Catherine of Aragon, who she had served under. The one who had left the castle and never came back.

A knock on the door wasn’t uncommon for the blonde anymore. The four queens she had made amends with often came to visit her throughout the night.

“Come in!” Jane beckoned. When the door opened, she was faced with the last woman she expected to be there: the golden queen. “Oh, hi Catherine. What can I do for you?” Her tone shifted immediately. There was no malice within her voice, but it certainly wasn’t as warm as it was when she thought it might have been one of the other queens.

“I wanted to have a quick chat Jane, if that’s alright,” the first queen seemed nervous. What for, the third queen couldn’t tell.

“Sure,” the silver queen moved over on her bed and patted the spot next to her.

“You’ve made nice with the other four queens. Why not me Jane? I thought we were okay,” Catherine admitted weakly as she lowered herself onto the bed.

Jane was stunned. The Catherine of Aragon, the elegant and poised queen of England, was sitting before her admitting that she was hurt by the blonde’s actions- or more accurately, lack thereof.

“Catherine, I never meant to upset you,” Jane sighed.

“Then, why haven’t you attempted to reach out to me? I mean, you’ve been good with Boleyn for a month now!” The first queen was clearly upset.

“Lina,” Jane whispered for the first time since they had been in England over 500 years ago. “I-”

“If it’s something that I did back then, I-”

“You couldn’t help what you did, but-” Jane bit her tongue. “But you left. And I’m terrified that if we grow close in this life, you might have to leave again.”

“Oh.” The golden monarch looked into the younger woman’s grey eyes with sadness. “Oh carino.” Catalina pulled the woman into a hug. “I’m not leaving. Ever. Not as long as I can help it.”

“Promise?” The third queen mumbled at her elder in an almost child-like tone.

“I promise you love. I’m not leaving. You are my family, and family doesn’t just leave.”

Since that day, Jane Seymour had found many things. The most important thing to note however, was that she did indeed find where her puzzle piece fit.

It did not fit into the tudor life that she had lived once before. It did not fit into the greyscale puzzle she had begun to create. No, her puzzle piece fit into this life- this wacky, silly, absurd puzzle of family with the other ex-wives of her past.

On many days, as the others would find, Jane Seymour’s puzzle piece completed their puzzle of life.

“So Jane,” Cathy laughed quietly as she leaned against the doorframe, the two watching the chaos that was unfolding in the house from a distance. “Think you found where your puzzle piece fits?”

“I think I did,” Jane smiled happily. “Wanna go finish today’s puzzle?”

“Let’s.” The writer offered a hand to the third queen, and together they joined in on the mayhem.

#six fanfic #six musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six fanfiction #fanfic #six jane seymour #jane seymour six

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Two

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I’m making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

Baast woke to the scent of cooking meat. It made her stomach rumble and mouth salivate but also confused her. There had been no one in her life for many years. There should be no one to cook. Her eyes snapped open, prepared to fight whoever had found her.

Then her eyes fell on Din playing with Grogu, and it all came flooding back. He spoke softly through the modulator, encouraging the boy to float the small silver ball from Din's hand to Grogu's.

When the child succeeded, Din whispered a pleased, "Dank farrik!"

Baast almost purred, watching him with the child. He made an excellent father, and she was of an age to desire a mate, a home, a pride. But a warrior like him deserved someone better than a broken Zentari. It mattered not that her soul cried out whenever he touched her without the barrier of his gloves.

He'd stripped them off yesterday, and she could smell him—the spicy scent of masculine soap blending seamlessly with the musk of a man warm in his beskar. But the underlying scent of Din Djarin was that of the sandy dunes of her homeworld. He smelled of warm winds and dusky plains, of tall grasses whipped by fragrant breezes.

He smelled like home.

The stars were cruel indeed to drop her in the lap of the one made for her.

She watched them for a time as he encouraged Grogu. Their bond was strong, too strong if the Jedi were to be believed. Such attachments bred fear for the one they loved, and fear lent itself to the Darkside.

The idea of Grogu's pure soul becoming tainted made her ache, and though she said she couldn't help them, Baast knew she must. Grogu deserved a chance to grow up on the side of good.

She sat up, drawing Din's notice, the man turning toward her across the fire.

"Morning."

Baast wondered at the voice behind the modulator. Would it be deeper? More robust? Would it be even more pleasing than this one that stroked fingers of violent want through her blood?

"Good morning," she murmured, voice husky still with sleep.

Before she could ask, the canteen he carried on his belt was in his hand. "Drink?"

She nodded, catching it easily when he tossed it to her. "Thank you. I'm not used to morning conversations anymore. Or any conversations in some years."

"You've done well, evading capture until now. Now, the Tribe will help."

"The Tribe," she whispered. "I've been alone for so long." The idea of being part of something was both appealing and terrifying. "I look forward to meeting your Alor."

"She will be glad to meet you. They all will. Everyone will hope-" He cut himself off, busying himself with the lizard cooking over the fire.

"Mando, they should not hope for what I do not think I can give," she sighed, lifting Grogu to her lap when he shuffled over.

"You don't know for sure you can't bond, Baast. Give it time."

Time was all she had. Life was a long thing for a Zentari alone in the universe.

Small green hands gently touched her cheeks, causing her to look down at Grogu. He cooed a sweet noise as she gazed into big, dark eyes. They were expressive in their own right, and she felt herself falling, diving once more into his mind.

The images came fast and furious. Din running, fighting, killing, but almost always alone.

Baast closed her eyes as pain washed through her for the Mandalorian. "I cannot," she whispered to the child. "It would not be fair."

Grogu frowned at her before squealing loudly. More images filled her mind, these of a man reckless with his safety, one who had little to nothing to live for.

She gasped and wrenched her face away from his hands, but it didn't stop the flow of ridiculousness. Kriff! The man had a death wish!

When Grogu disappeared from her lap, only then did he release her from his grasp.

Baast sent the green menace a glare. "That was entirely rude."

He smiled and blew a raspberry.

"I'm sorry," Din murmured, holding the child away like Grogu was a danger.

She held up her hand, continuing to glare. "Do not apologize for something he did. It sets a poor president. Invading my mind is bad manners, little one. Disregarding another's desires is a step down a dark path. This will not be allowed."

"Dark path?" Din asked.

"The Jedi and the Sith. One force believes in peace and passivity. The other wants power and are often corrupted by that passionate desire, both use the Force. He has the potential to be extremely powerful, but with that power comes responsibility. It is a razor's edge to walk, one I am not confident I have the skill to help him navigate."

Din straightened, but his shoulders lowered, relaxing his posture. "You'll help him? I didn't want to bring it up, but I'm running out of options."

"Yes," she sighed. "I know of one who may be able to help him, but I do not know if he will come at my call. Where is your covert?" He said nothing, and Baast tilted her head in apology. "That was an improper question. Forgive me."

"Always," he murmured.

She wondered if that would still be true should he learn what Grogu already suspected. "If I am to make contact, it must be from Tatooine."

"Why Tatooine?"

"Because it is the planet we agreed upon." She turned toward the fire and the spit of roasting meat before looking up at Din. "Have you eaten?"

The movement was subtle, a single negative action.

Baast hummed and reached for the cloth that tied her pants' to her calf and began to unwrap it.

"What are you doing?"

She ignored him and continued until her pant leg fluttered free. The cloth was only a couple inches wide, but it was long and thick enough to make an adequate blindfold.

She lifted it to her eyes, only for his hand to shoot out and grab her wrist. It felt odd for him to touch her with the slightly cracked but soft leather of a glove now that she knew the feel of his skin.

"You don't need to do that."

Baast blinked slowly, gaze drifting to his hand before returning to the visor where his eyes would be. "It is not a need but a want. I will do this, Din Djarin, so that you may eat freely with the child and I. This is the Way."

"It is unnecessary."

She unfolded, rising gracefully to stand before him, wrist yet held in his grasp. "When last did you eat?"

He said nothing.

She tilted her head and held out the cloth. "I have not shared a meal with another in many years. I would share this meal with you and Grogu. Allow me to honour your Creed."

There was no sound, no movement beyond what Grogu contributed to the conversation in small burbles of noise. The Mandalorian was still and silent, a hunter in all things.

Baast waited, quiet, calm. After so many years in a cell, the forest gave her peace, but those years had taught her patience. She could wait for eternity for his decision. She had the time, after all.

What went on behind the helmet, she couldn't know, but eventually, he set Grogu down, released her wrist, and took the blindfold. "Turn around."

She did so, pushing her hair back to uncover her ears. "If possible, try not to cover them. The tips are sensitive, and the fabric will feel abrasive."

The cloth came down over her eyes, hooked behind her ears, and crossed at the back of her head.

"Again," she murmured. "I can still see."

Twice more, the fabric circled before he tied a knot.

Her senses heightened, hearing, smell, and the sixth sense that had been with her all her life. The Force resonated in every living thing, glowing and pulsing, connecting all of them. She could see it like an orange glow, thin lines and thick, veining out around them.

"Good?"

"Yes." The heat of the fire warmed her skin, but before she could move, Din took her hand and elbow.

"Kneel. I'll get you some food."

Baast followed his direction, aware of the bright light that was Grogu coming to her side. He placed his hand on hers, flooding Baast with a gentle apology. She turned her hand over to hold his little claws.

A quiet hiss filled her ears, causing her to turn toward Din. The beskar blocked some of his energy, the Force somehow muted by it. Then he lifted off his helmet.

It took every effort to restrain herself from gasping. He glowed white, the shining brightness of a sun. Shock left her mute as she tracked the supernova that was this Mandalorian as he set down his helmet and removed the spit from the fire. He pulled off a piece of meat, maybe a leg, she couldn't quite tell, and brought it to her.

"Here." The deep baritone was like the softest of silk to her senses.

Baast held out her hands for the meat. His bare fingers grazed her palm as the hot meal hit her flesh, and grease trickled through her fingers.

"Thank you," she managed to force from a throat gone tight with emotion.

"It's hot. Be careful."

She stuffed down the aching need to reach out and feel the lips that produced such a voice and smiled crookedly instead. "Too long have you travelled with only Grogu for company."

He chuckled. "Perhaps."

Another wave of needy desire hit her, but Baast fought it off. She would not doom him to a half-life with an unfinished bond.

She ate and made sure he ate once Grogu was fed, asking questions about the child and how they came to be together simply to keep him talking. His voice was a balm to a soul grown used to silence.

When they finally finished their meal, she waited for him to return his helmet and come to release the blindfold. His hands were deft, skilled, and careful not to pull her hair.

Baast blinked to adjust to the quickly blooming daylight, then retied her pant leg as Din smothered the fire. She reached for Grogu and stood, ready to leave.

"I can carry him."

She tilted her head, already missing the gentle ebb and flow of the Force from him, now encased in all that beskar. "Do you object to me carrying him because you think I am weak or out of principle because he is your foundling?"

"Uh…"

She arched a brow. "Do not underestimate me, Mando. I live because I am jatnese be te jatnese. The best of the best."

"I know what it means," he huffed.

"Then stop being ori'buyce, kih'kovid," she smirked. "I will care for the child as you have cared for me."

"Atin," he muttered.

She didn't protest because, yes, she was stubborn.

"Fine." She could almost hear a pout in his modulated voice as he turned and marched out of their temporary camp. "And I'm not all helmet," he grumbled, likely thinking she couldn't hear him.

Baast smirked and gave Grogu a wink. "Come along, ad'ika. We weak ones best keep up with the big strong Mandalorian," she teased.

"I will leave you behind."

She grinned at his back. "No, you will not."

***

By the time they reached the Razor Crest, he was sweating in his beskar again, but with the luxury of the fresher within sight, Din didn't let it bother him.

He disarmed the ground defences and lowered the hatch, heading inside to get them underway. He wanted off the planet before anyone else thought to come looking for Baast'mal.

Hopefully, the Alor would know who to bribe to falsify a new chain code for her. Either that, or there would be an all-out war to eliminate the threat and bounty on her head. Or, she would spend the rest of her life hunted by the Empire.

He hated that thought. Baast was not a creature who should spend her life hiding. She should be allowed out into the light, a creature of hope and beauty.

Though he hadn't seen the true colour of her eyes, the rest of her was so mesh'la, when he'd removed his helmet, it had momentarily taken his breath. And without the helmet, her scent had filled his nose like something he'd loved and long forgotten. It was warm, soft, and decadent, all things a Mandalorian put off when he put on the beskar.

It was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

She closed the ramp and followed him to the ladder, climbing up with Grogu to slip into the seat back and to his right.

"Once we've left the atmosphere, you're welcome to the fresher, food, whatever you need," he offered, getting them airborne.

"Do I smell?"

He froze. "That wasn't what-"

Her laugher, that throaty purr, cut him off. "It's fine, Mando. An actual fresher after years of lakes and waterfalls will be pleasant."

"Hm. I have to make a stop on Nevarro, then another before we go to Tatooine. Is there anything you need?"

"Clothing. A cloak. And a weapon."

They cleared the planet, and he made the jump into hyperspace before turning around. "What kind?"

"Short sabres or staff will do."

He watched her pet Grogu's ears, gently using those long claws in such a fashion the kid was almost comatose in bliss. She sat with one foot propped on the seat, comfortably leaning on the armrest. He wondered if her skin would begin to lose its sun-kissed nature now that she was off-world.

"How did you learn to fight?" he asked, forcing himself not to think about her skin and how soft it was.

"Mandalorians are not the only warrior race. Zentari are taught from birth; the rest I learned from the idiots who held me captive. They sought to make me a weapon or a slave, with that came training, but Zentari are not so easily coerced, nor do we forget the slaughter of thousands. I am no weak-minded individual to be controlled by some Sith," she spat.

"Sith?" He knew next to nothing about Force-wielders and felt the lack of knowledge acutely.

"They oppose all things the Jedi stand for, desiring power over peace or balance. They corrupt what they touch.."

"And how does a Zentari hold out against someone so powerful?" He didn't wish to insult her, but surely a child against a master Sith couldn't win.

She sighed and looked away, watching the lights of hyperspace. "Zentari are neither good nor evil. We are Force neutral. The blood bonds distinguish much of our future. To avoid creating bonds with those that would bring harm was why Zentarus was so well hidden. But someone betrayed us. They used to brag about it, the Imps. How one who we trusted gave us up to the Empire."

"If you are Force neutral, why allow Mandalorians to know of Zentarus? Why let us come seeking mates?"

She shot those vibrant eyes back in his direction. "Because the Way was honourable once. Perhaps, at some point, Mandalore was led astray by their leader, but that was not our doing. Those that came to us knew the Way. They humbled themselves before us, and if they were denied, they left knowing such was not their destiny. Those who came knowing not the Way… did not leave Zentarus alive."

"Then I am glad I knew the Way," he murmured, wondering who would have won between the two of them had she not revealed herself.

"As am I," she nodded, looking as regal as the Sand Panther she claimed in her blood.

"Were the Jedi not part of your Way?"

She scowled. "The Jedi saw us as a threat. Naturally born Force users who required little training to do much of what they could, who lived for generations, and who were neither good nor evil. They feared what would happen if we were corrupted. An attempt was made to wipe us out. It failed, and we Zentari veiled Zentarus from those who knew not where to look."

"And that's why you didn't want to help us," he sighed, realizing the untenable position he'd put her in.

She stood, placing the sleeping Grogu down on her seat before taking the step she needed to stand between his spread knees. Her hands lifted to land lightly on the sides of his helmet, gliding over the metal. "It is no longer a want but a need. I will not watch Grogu fall to the side of the Sith because of my fear of the Jedi. He must be trained."

She leaned down and rested her forehead against his helmet as long lashes veiled her eyes. "This is the Way."

Without his permission, Din's hands found her hips and drew her incrementally closer. "I will protect you, Baast."

"We will protect each other."

He hummed his agreement and wondered at the low ripple of sound vibrating through his chest.

Next chapter

#Star-Crossed #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x ofc #star-crossed:bound by blood

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desparikon · 3 years

Text

Murdoc/Mac fanfic misfire #6

Written for @pridewrite2021 , pw5 Asexual, pw6 Aromantic & pw alt6 Realization

Sleeping with Mac is nice, but it’s not the main form of intimacy Murdoc craves.

(aroace Murdoc is !!!)

“Amazing,” Mac whispered from his spot between Murdoc’s legs, absently squeezing along the one still hooked over his shoulder.

“I know,” Murdoc replied automatically, inwardly wincing at the intensifying prickles of reawakening muscles. “You can put my leg down now, ’m not going anywhere.”

Mac complied, squeezes turning into soothing massaging. Murdoc’s movements were stiff, cautious. His discomfort, obvious.

“You OK?”

Murdoc hissed quietly, his hip twinging. Old, improperly healed injuries, and his violent lifestyle were catching up.

Worth it though, yielding to Angus’ breaking composure, watching him indulge desires he’d fought to hold back. Why deny him(self) that pleasure, when their entire cat-and-mouse game leading to tonight had been his own?

“Murdoc?”

“Yeah, leg just fell asleep, it’s fine.”

“Good.” Giving Murdoc’s thighs a final squeeze, Mac leaned forward and planted his hands on his bed, boxing Murdoc in underneath him, “’Cause I’m not done with you yet.” He dipped his head, laying soft kisses on Murdoc’s stomach.

Stark contrast to the sparring and aggression marking the start of their evening. Tension and frustration had built far too long, and even someone as accommodating, softhearted, as Angus had limits. Only Murdoc knew what lie beneath, and he could handle it. Why not allow Angus to burn off what he deemed too dangerous for everyone else’s eyes?

Indeed, Angus could be a rough, dominating lover—he’d expected no less—but never cruel. There’d been no pain without pleasure, or reassurance. Honest words, kind eyes. Gentle hands that held his own, and ran through his hair, and caressed every inch, including his scars. Compassion toward the souvenirs bred by his penchant for violence and destruction. Everything Angus stood against.

That kind of special, affectionate attention paralyzed him.

Murdoc moaned and gripped Mac’s biceps. Encouragement for whatever came next.

Mac sighed against skin, “You’re so…” Kisses deepened, tongue pressing against bruises previously left on Murdoc’s chest, “So--”

A short tug on his hair warned against putting matching teeth marks around this nipple. “Leave that attached, hmm?”

Ah, the defiance in Angus’ eyes. The temptation. The careful studying. Weighing entertainment against whatever retribution would be doled out.

Murdoc nearly laughed, pushing Mac’s bangs back.

Truly, someone after Murdoc’s heart. Stubborn, and lively, and a troublemaker in his own right. Someone worthy of his defense’s deterioration. If this was defeat, he couldn’t have dreamed a better adversary.

Despite Murdoc’s silent surrender (near encouragement), Mac slowly pulled his tongue back in, and put on a most innocent smile. “I wasn’t gonna do anything.” He settled in against Murdoc, nuzzling into Murdoc’s neck.

“You’re a handful, Angus.” Murdoc wrapped an arm around Mac and held him close, careful to avoid the scratches torn across Mac’s back. His skin tingled under the tired, lazy exploration of Mac’s fingers.

Cuddling hadn’t been a thing with Amber; No pull, and their personalities didn’t mesh in a way that’d allowed it.

Murdoc could now confidently say cuddling (Angus) beat sex. Peak intimacy. Cozy. Peaceful. Safe. Simply being with Angus, and spending time together.

But, he’d cornered himself. After all his teasing and flirting, only to loudly declare:

Just Kidding!!

Well, not much would get him thrown out quicker. Saying no would be an admission. To what, he’d never quite figured out.

Sex was fine. Physically enjoyable, but not even the most fun one could have while naked. Magical, and life-changing, and unparalleled? Supposedly? Looking and appreciating were not the best parts, so he’d been told.

Condescending laughs. Derisive glances. Heavy implications. It was supposed to hurt. It didn’t. People’s misinterpretations were a them problem. One easily solved, if they didn’t treat his skills and reputation as all that mattered.

Sex was a chore, and if it didn’t fill a box on the arbitrary checklist of life and relationships, he’d leave it. Meet someone, get married, have kids. Tried it, boring, not for him.

What hurt, was people treating any deviation as a condemnation to perpetual unhappiness. Cassian brings him unmatched joy, and they acted like he was mistaken.

You got full custody?, *suspicious glances imply he’s abusive*, Never complain about using protection again, right!, Oh, so he’s a problem child? Very noble to stick around!, Boys require a woman to raise them!, Aww, Daddy’s Little Gatekeeper!, It must be sOoOoO misERABLE---

For people to martyr them over some narrowly defined Perfect Life he never wanted, especially in his son’s presence…!!!

An aggressive roast sent them packing, but did little to soothe the sting. Their only savior, proximity.

His happiness just looked different! Cassian taking a liking to Angus was a bonus, but remarrying wasn’t the answer. He wasn’t replacing Amber, or looking to force Angus into another checkbox. What he wanted with Angus was different. Marriage was loaded with connotations, about “love” and feelings, and what the pinnacle of relationships must be.

It made him irrationally angry. His feelings were complex, and ambiguous, and somehow different from others’. Tied, again, to something foreign everyone except him apparently understood.

“Murdoc…” Mac murmured, burrowing impossibly closer, “--built for endurance.” His fingers lightly traced a particularly stiff, raised scar.

Oh that kind of endurance.

“You’ve survived a lot.”

“Oh yes, never a shortage of plans going wrong. Or people trying to kill me.” Murdoc brushed Mac’s persistently unruly bangs to one side. “Perks of ~The Job~, I suppose.”

“That’s what bothers me. You could be out there getting seriously hurt, or killed, and Cassian would be all alone, and I’d never know.”

“Sure you would. Either he’ll call you, or the school will.”

“Wait, you made me--” Mac shifted so he could look up at Murdoc, an incredulous smile on his face. “I’m his emergency contact??”

“You’re surprised?”

“What am I? Friend? Cousin? Long-lost brother?”

“My partner.” Murdoc’s heart swelled as Mac cupped his cheek, his thumb gently rubbing circles. “It’s vague, but I wanted something open to interpretation.”

“I like it.”

“Then...you’d like to be partners with me?”

Mac playfully bumped their noses together. “Is it too soon for pet names, because I have a killer one for you...”

#macgyver #mine

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jungstruly · 4 years

Text

Stupid Cupid || 00

You’ve ought to believe that you have a curse when it comes to love after a handful of disastrous dates, but when a certain baseball captain Lucas Wong finally looked your way, you were done with having that curse. The little love God can fuck himself anyways.

Or where in,

Best friend Haechan’s playing cupid and doing cupid’s dirty work behind your back to drive away your potential lovers all because of a pinky promise the both of you shared during high school. It’s only a matter of time until he blows his cover off. Until then, the stupid little cupid’s crazy plan to stop you from falling in love will be his top priority.

!! UPDATES EVERY TUESDAY AND SATURDAY !!

Genre || Rom-com, fuff, crack, slice of life, angst in the future, Uni!AU, Baseball!AU, Band!AU

Pairings || Business student slash bassist!Donghyuck x Architecture student!Reader x Engineering student slash baseball captain!Lucas (A side of Nursing student! Jeno, Business student!Renjun and Engineering student!Hendery)

Word Count || 3.2k

Taglist || @lelenoir, @nzeeten, @emvrd, @badwithten, @4-sun, @bl--ankhaeji, @soleilhyuck-main, @hyuckiesoftie, @hoshitaro, @in-my-neofeelings, @chenleschurros, @deuxvous, @renjunluvr119, @neostains, @lovelyvitamin, @melxmay, @cherry-jaemin, @eyypeach, @shotoshortcake, @apollohyucks, @flirtyhyuck, @moonmystv can’t tag @dlndreamie & @mimika-28 for some odd reason :<

@scissorhands1617 & @neowrld thank you so much for being the best beta reader I could ask for!

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added in the taglist!

PROLOGUE

“Can you not stare at me while I study my physiology notes?” Jeno grumbled from his seat across yours. He pushed his glasses back up his nose bridge which were starting to slide off from reading for too long. Eyes not leaving his study material, he clicked his pen before scribbling something on his paper.

“You’re starting to creep me out Y.N”

You slumped on the familiar café seat as you watched your friend study his heart out, too preoccupied to notice that it’s a little half past lunch time already. The small yet famous French café located literally beside the university grounds was still packed with students. Even if it’s already the early hours of the afternoon, the whole place was still buzzing with students enjoying their favorite home cooked meal with their friends as they take a break from their busy uni life.

You leaned your head on the wide glass window beside you.

“I can still feel you.” He mumbled and you can’t help but let out an over dramatic sigh for the nth time since the both of you sat there. Your fingers played with the metal straw of your nearly empty iced tea. Jeno still felt your eyes boring through his head.

“That’s it,” He threw his notes on the table with a groan before finally meeting your eyes. “What do you want this time?”

Crossing your arms, you let out another loud sigh. A pout is evident on your lips as the nursing student leaned back to his seat and waited for you to spill your ‘tea’. “Jeno, we’ve been best friends since high school and I know that you won’t lie to me, ever.”

He hummed in response, urging you to continue whilst he dusts his white nursing uniform.

“I need you to be completely honest with me.” You grabbed his hands.

Your actions made Jeno’s eyebrows rise, peering from his prescribed glasses to both of your hands clasped together. “Like super duper, one hundred and one percent honest to me. Okay?”

“You’re scaring me Y.N.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Your laughter blended with the busy café noise as you looked him dead in the eye. Jeno’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down, trying to pull his hands away from your grasp.

“Do you think I’m attractive?” You tried to give him your best smile, your eyes blinking rapidly as you try to act cute.

With a chuckle, your best friend nodded in agreement. He peeled his hands away from you and sipped his turning cold latte. Jeno being the sweetheart that he is, knew exactly what to say. “Of course you are! You’ve always been beautiful inside and out.”

“Really?”

Your eyes lit up in an instant. “With that being said, if you were given a chance to date me, will you date me?”

Jeno choked on the coffee that he was drinking. He coughed, reaching for a clean tissue on the table to wipe the corners of his lips.

“T-the hell?”

You were about to open your mouth when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. The smell of cheese and basil leaves filled your senses .Your stomach grumbled and it only made you realize how hungry you were all this time.

“Y.N dear, your soup will be served in a while. Jeno, here’s your croque monsieur.”

Your coughing friend held out a thumb’s up as a thank you. His eyes fixated on the scrumptious meal in front of him despite almost choking to death. You on the other hand flashed the old woman a grin before she went back to the kitchen.

“Thank you Mama Lee. Hyuck and Injun will be here in a while.”

Your attention went back to Jeno, handing him more tissue as he coughed on his fist. A look of disbelief was evident on his face as he eyed your sheepish figure.

The both of you looked up when a familiar brown leather messenger bag was roughly thrown beside Jeno. “That strategic management prof will be the death of me.”

The petite boy loosened his maroon necktie before he plopped down beside him with a huff. His sleeves were already rolled up as he put both arms behind his neck, leaning back to catch his breath. Renjun was about to run his mouth to talk how much of an asshole their substitute professor was when he noticed how red Jeno was.

He immediately sat straight out of excitement. “What did I miss?”

You shrugged jokingly, sipping your iced tea empty. Renjun caught a whiff of the food beside him, giving it a side eye to see if the owner’s paying attention before he went into stealth mode. Jeno immediately swatted Renjun’s hand away from his hot food but it was all too late when the culprit popped a huge crumb of cheesy goodness on his mouth with a grin.

“Y.N here asked me if she’s attractive.” Jeno said before taking a bite after his coughs subsided, giving the boy beside him a glare.

“We all know the answer to that.” Renjun snorted beside him as he tried to eat some of Jeno’s bread crumbs despite his annoyed look.

“A huge fat No,”

You giggled, throwing him a punch across the table. “How mean, you little shit.”

“And,” Jeno swallowed down the huge bite of croque monsieur before speaking. All eyes were back on him before he shrieked in terror.

He pushed his glasses up before pointing his finger at you. “She asked me if I would date her!”

Renjun’s hand went flying to his mouth. The both of them started to freak out as if you told them that you eat smelly socks for breakfast. You can’t help but to roll your eyes. Your lips curving upward, nevertheless. You love your best friends to bits and pieces but sometimes, you question your taste in people.

“Remind me again why I have two morons as my friend.” You threw Jeno's used tissue, making them laugh in amusement. Your eyes caught a glimpse of the time from the clock above them as you leaned back to your seat-- only to sit right up back again.

“Make that three. Where’s Hyuck?”

“Went to Mama Lee’s kitchen the moment he got here.” Renjun answered nonchalantly, standing up to pour himself a glass of water from the nearby counter. “That brat has always been the teacher’s favorite. It’s like his secret talent. Profs would even let him sleep in their class just because. It’s unfair.”

The news didn’t shock you and Jeno at all. Donghyuck may fool around but man, that kid is naturally good with numbers. It was old news already since he had always been a dean’s lister up until now in your third year in college. Jeno was about to take another bite when he saw your eyes fixated on it, making him offer you his food and urging you to open your mouth. You happily obliged of course.

You were munching with a smile when you heard a very familiar voice from the counter. The three of you mentally face palmed yourselves as the little devil who you were talking about earlier appeared. An apron was tied snuggly to his small waist along with his neatly folded black suit jacket draped on his forearm as he pretended to be a waiter.

You wanted the earth to gobble you up when Donghyuck shouted your order up front, startling a lot of customers. “One onion soup for Ms. Y.N.”

He carefully set your onion soup down in front of you before setting his and Renjun’s orders down. You immediately scooped a mouthful and shoved it in your mouth. Only to realize a minute after, how hot it was.

“Of course it’s hot dumbass.” Donghyuck grabbed Renjun’s glass of water as the boy returned to his seat which earned an annoyed ‘hey’ from him. Eyes not leaving your panicked state, he sat down beside you. You emptied Renjun’s glass in no time.

“Ouch,” You stick your tongue out, in an attempt to cool it off. “Too hot,”

The boy beside you rolled his eyes with a scoff. Donghyuck started to slice the roasted chicken on his plate. “No shit Sherlock. I just popped that out from the oven. I know how much you love it when cheese turns crusty and brown.”

You grin from ear to ear as you shove a spoonful of it back to your mouth. This time, cooling it off. Renjun on the other hand snorted across from the both of you.

“Yeah, to the point of you putting half of my cheese in hers.” Jeno peered beside him before bursting into laughter. The boy beside him grunted in disbelief as he pushed his soup across the table just for everyone to see. “Look how sad it looks. Just look at this poor little thing!”

You giggled with a shrug, a bashful look already painted on your face. “Well, what can I say. I’m Hyuck’s and Mama Lee’s favorite customer after all.”

“Don’t be too full of yourself babe.” Donghyuck made sure to pinch your cheek which only earned a groan from you. You rubbed on your cheek with knitted brows. A soft smile played on your lips as you watched Donghyuck eat happily with his cute little apron tied on his waist, completely forgetting that it was still on him.

Feeling your eyes on him, he quickly sliced a huge chunk of meat. He blew some air on it in an attempt to cool the piping hot chicken before finally shoving it to your mouth.

“Aigoo, my baby,” Donghyuck laughed when he felt a punch on his shoulder. Flavors bursted on your tongue as you happily chewed. The boy beside you smiled in content, munching on his chicken again.

“Anything I missed while I was in the kitchen?”

Jeno crossed his arms as he leaned back to his seat, watching everyone eat their heart out. “Nothing much, I was studying the whole time but Y.N here almost killed me.”

“You’re being dramatic. I could kill you if I wanted to.”

Renjun swallowed his food, clapping his hands like a seal as he remembered something.

“Y.N here has a bunch of questions.” Renjun’s eyes glinted with excitement and mischief as Jeno’s eyes met his with the exact glow. “I think you should answer them Hyuck.”

Donghyuck shrugged, reaching over to scoop from your soup to get a taste of his mom’s star dish. Your hands carefully pushed the bowl near him. “Shoot,”

You wiped your lips with a tissue before turning your body to him. He was too preoccupied with the hearty meal that he didn’t even bother to look at you.

“Am I attractive to you? Will you take me out on a date if you were given a chance, Hyuckie?”

His eyes turned like saucers as he choked on his soup, whipping his head to you just to check if you were messing with him. Your eyes blinked back at him with concern. The two boys on the other hand were laughing their asses off as they watched their friend’s struggle. Donghyuck glared at the both of them, clearly unamused. His hand started to cover his mouth to muffle his coughs.

“So,” You bite your lip. Your hand hitting his back to help him. “Won’t you?”

His eyes widened more. The poor boy violently coughed. Renjun offered him a new cup of water after laughing so hard with Jeno. Donghyuck downed the whole glass in one go, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before turning to you.

“You’re kidding.” He tried to laugh but when you shook your head with a genuine smile, he stopped. “You’re serious?”

“I’m serious.” You confirmed as you continued to eat. Donghyuck didn’t even bother to finish his meal. In fact, he felt like he was too full. He didn’t know if it was because of the soup or the butterflies whirling in his stomach.

“And why do you ask?”

Blood rose up to your cheek, nibbling on some croutons to make you look busy. “Just because,”

Jeno snapped his finger. You mentally thanked him as the attention turned to him. “I think I know why. Let me guess, is this because of that date you had with that Chenle dude during first year?”

Memories came back flooding back to you. The date you had with that wealthy Chinese business Tycoon heir was nothing but a disaster. Snippets of how he got dragged by a horse and rushed to the hospital only to find out that the poor boy broke his femur wasn’t really the best memory to have for your first date.

“No, shut up.”

Jeno smirked from his seat as he pushed his glasses back up. Not because he was having fun teasing the hell out of you, but because Donghyuck started to sweat beside you. He mouthed Jeno a ‘fuck you’, showing him his fist in hopes of scaring him. Donghyuck remembered that day all too well as if he was there. Well, he was indeed there along with Renjun, hiding in a bush nearby as you and Chenle got a little too close for his liking.

Suddenly, Renjun bursted out laughing across from you, the metal straw still in his mouth as he sipped Jeno’s half empty coffee. He hitted Jeno’s arm out of happiness. “Second year, that date with Na Jaemin was just fucking gold.”

Renjun wheezed, eyes scrunching as he laughed. “That dumbass gave Y.N flowers and gave her an allergic reaction. Holy shit, her face was just too hideous and she even almost pooped in he-“

“Finish that sentence. See what happens.”

You spat with brows furrowed together, only to join Renjun and Jeno’s laughter seconds later. It was embarrassing of course but it was way too funny. The second date was really a night to remember. You had to call Hyuck to pick you up halfway through your date because your face went, uh--- unrecognizable in front of your date. That night turned into a whole disaster to the point of praying everyday not to bump with Jamin inside the campus.

“Too funny,” Donghyuck tried to laugh along, making sure to give Renjun who was suggestively wiggling his eyebrows a hard glare. He fiddled with the hem of his apron.

Jeno was losing his shit as he reminisced how he helped the boy beside you buy some laxative the night before your date. You wiped your tears of happiness, totally oblivious by your three bestfriend’s mini staredown.

“I can really tell that cupid is definitely enjoying himself toying with my love life.” You joked, elbowing Donghyuck’s arm to urge him to laugh. “That little rascal.”

Jeno snickered in front of you. His eyes lingered on Haechan. “Oh, I bet cupid is having the time of his lif-“

As if on cue, Jeno yelped in pain. Donghyuck blinked back at him innocently as he tried to hide the fact that he stepped on his toe. He let out a breath of relief once he saw you laughing.

He can’t afford to let his cover be blown just because his two dickhead friends decided to bring up his crazy and obviously love sick plans for fun. Donghyuck ruining every single date that you have was a secret that he’ll bring to his grave. He can’t afford for you to know that he was the reason for every unleashed disaster in your dates.

As he quietly went back to his meal, he couldn’t help but to breathe a sigh of relief as you started to talk excitedly about your architecture project in class. The previous conversation was already forgotten but the knowing look on Jeno and Renjun was still there.

Oh, if only you knew that cupid was a lot closer than you think.

Literally an arm’s length away, munching on his roasted chicken with a small smile.

That small smile didn’t even last that long when he felt your hands gripped his forearm tightly. Your squeals of excitement filled his ears as you began to shake his shoulder violently. He looked at Jeno and Renjun in hopes to know what was happening. The three boys shared a surprise look.

“Oh God.” Your eyes didn’t leave the large window still beside you, leaning on Donghyuck as you repeatedly hit his forearm. “That’s the guy! That’s the frikin guy, oh my god!”

Donghyuck pretended that he wasn’t interested in your shenanigans but he was all ears. “What guy? Use your words Y.-”

“The guy,” Hands waving excitedly in front of you, you gave your best friends a look before your attention went back to the tall mysterious guy in front of a building across the cafe you were in.

“The guy I kept on talking about. Literally tall, lean and handsome? Remember?”

Jeno squinted as he tried to spot the guy that you were talking about. Different groups of students spread here and there which made it harder for him to find the guy. “Nah.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.” Renjun shrugged, pushing Jeno to the side to look for ‘this guy’. Nose almost touching the window glass, he chuckled. “You have one good eyesight Y.N. I can’t clearly see people all the way from there.”

Your cheeks started to hurt from smiling. The tall guy’s head tilted back in laughter as he and his friends played around. “He’s the one I told you about? My happy crush?”

“Your happy crush,” the two boys in front of you repeated your words. It took them a couple of seconds before both of their heads whipped their heads to you-- to Haechan to be precise. “Your happy crush!”

You flinched at their sudden outburst. Not wanting any attention to the four of you, you shushed them. Donghyuck ignored their surprised look as he peered on the window beside you. His eyes spotting the familiar boy that you were gushing about. Oh dear, he knew your ‘happy crush’ very well. In fact, Donghyuck didn’t like him at all for some personal reasons. Along with the fact that he got you wrapped around his finger, of course. There’s no way in hell that he’ll tell you his name let alone meet each other.

His eyes widened the moment he saw the tall guy with his friend started walking towards the window. In just a few feet more, you’ll get the perfect view of your ‘happy crush’s’ face in no time. Donghyuck did the unthinkable before you even returned your attention back to the window. He collapsed beside you, putting his whole weight on your body as he screwed his eyes shut.

You snorted from his side, clearly unamused. Your shoulder tried to push his body away from you. “Hyuckie! You’re heavy, now quit playing around.”

You tried to push his body away from you, when you eventually stopped trying. You decided to let the back of his head rest on your chest as you realize that the boy may or may not want to cuddle, only for your blood to run out of your face the moment Donghyuck’s body fell limp in your arms.

“Hyuckie? Hyuckie?” Your hand lightly tapped his soft, honey-skinned cheeks. The boy in your arms didn't move an inch.

“Guys,” Panic coursed through your veins, as your breath hitched.

Jeno and Renjun were stunned while looking at each other, finally piecing out that this could be Hyuck's heat stroke tendency.

“I think we need to call the ambulance.”

Next >

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theyanderespecialist · 3 years

Text

Outlast Gang Bang 1 (One Shot) Various X OC Sissy Mark

(marks pov)

I cover my ears the sirens blaring as the lights flash.. patients ran around as I try to find someone I knew. The priest most likely, Dr. tragger. maybe Christ. He must be scared. Then the twins, then..then Frank and then Eddie.

I walk through the halls calling their names, desperate to find them as I continue to call out for them, going into room after room as I see the priest as I ran over. "father, father your okay!"

"Mark, Mark come with me. It's dangerous."

"No I have to find the others, my patients and Dr. Tragger. I cannot and will not leave them to suffer." I say. "Do you know where they are? I need to make sure they are all okay."

(Ooofff poor mark has no idea what is about to happen XD)

"come, they are in the chapel." He said as he lead me to it, and he was telling the truth they were all there, however he shut the door suddenly

"What are you doing?" I ask confused as he locked the chapel doors.

He didn't speak as tragger suddenly walked up and grabbed me. His one hand on my waist...the other one on my legs.

"He's just ensuring you can't run anymore buddy." He said, a smirk on his face

"Run? Why would I run? I am just helping patients." I say confused.

However his hands suddenly trailed up. "You've been running away from us since the start buddy, you think I didn't notice that you'd ask to change shifts?"

"That was so I could sleep in." I say. "Why does it matter?"

I suddenly jerk as his hand went down my shrubs pants

"Wh-What are you doing!?!" I demand to know scared as he jerks my cock making it stir.

I felt odd, I was scared as I tried to back away but Father Martin held me steady.

(Man he's not beating around the bush ..but he is beating marks Meat)

(XD)

I groaned and felt him jerk me off to full hardness. I still tried to get away but their grips only tightened more when I did that. I groaned and then he moved his hand down and slip a finger over my clit. I groaned and shudder.

"So your file was right you have a cunt to~" He says grinning.

My eyes widen. "Please--" I was cut off when he pushed a finger between my lips, not deep but still was uncomfortable.

I whine softly and tried to pull away

He didn't enter any further as he pulled away, but his hands suddenly move to my chest.

"I wonder, are you more feminine or masculine under here?" He said.

"G-Guys.." I moan out.

"Tragger stop hogging her." I hear Chris say and I look at him shocked

He... wasn't going to try and save me?

"I'm not just.. examining her~" he said as he pulled my scrub shirt off as I went red in the face.

For a girl I was small.. but I'm not a girl, I'm a boy, and yes, I grew some breast tissue. Maybe a small B cup..

"Nice cut little breasts~" He says and leans down taking off the wrapping I had on them.

The wrapping fell to the ground as I blushed darkly only to cry out as he pinched the nipple. I cried out as my chest was always sensitive.

"don't you think her chest is nice...Eddie~?" Trager asked as I tried to get out of their grips as Eddie walked up.

"A bit small, but nice and perky~" He says and licks my other nipple. "They will get bigger when she is filled with my seed~"

I shudder at that knowing this was wrong and yet..

"Well don't worry Eddie buddy, her toys were an a when she came last year, and I've got some special medications of course." Tragger asaod as Eddie smirked.

"T-They aren't small.." I mutter, why that was the point that annoyed me, I don't know. A b cup isn't that small..

"They are adorable though just like my darling~" he says smiling at me it made me feel warm

However I tried to cut that thought out of my head as his hands grazed against the nipple causing me to let out a surprised jerk

"And oh so sensitive~" He purrs twisting it gently.

I let out another jerky spasm as he pulled down my pants, completely ignoring my cock as he rubbed my lips, his lips biting on my nipples. "Perhaps one day we can experiment with some nipple rings for you~" he said as I feel Mattson let go of me. I could run..but I didn't..as Christ came up behind me, I feel his large hands suddenly grasp my ass. They weren't fucking me...they were just teasing me both with their grasps and their words.

(Because you're a slut that gets off being talked dirty to and told your a whore, and that's what they are gonna do, Gott loosen you ;))

(XD Mark is a sissy slut XD)

Chris gripped my ass with one hand and my chest with the other massaging both. I couldn't help it the loan I tried to desperately to hold back came out, I've never felt more powerless..or this good. He smirked and started to kiss down my neck and bit my shoulder. I cried out and with Eddie fingering came hard from both my cock and woman hood.

He pulled away slow looking at his hands. "I'm not one for men." He said. "But I am one for making you cum~" he said as suddenly the others walked over.

"Alright alright two to start to not overwhelm him." Trager said. They weren't serious..

"We need our turn first." One twin said. Tom the one with the hair says.

"Yes we do." Tim adds

"the others don't know him as well as we do."

"Yes." Tim agree. "We known him the most and longest

They suddenly move forward as I they smirked at me. Tom bent me on my hands and knees and Tim kisses me my first kiss. I feel him grip the side of my face. The kiss was hot, passionate, and messy as he looked at me as I panted, drool still connecting our mouths.

"Mm... think I know.how to make this better." He said as he grabbed my bag as I was confused, his brother just smirking as he walked over.. with my makeup bag, roughly grabbing my face as he took out my lipsticks he seemed to be stuck between the hot pink and bright red.

They went with the bright red and he had me put it on as well as my mascare and eyeliner. After that was done I see Tim had removed his pants and tom stuck his tongue in my ass.

I let out a shocked cry as my legs try to kick him away. "g-get off!"

Tim looked at me and smirked. "Why don't you put on a show for us~? And them? If you do, we'll go as easy on you as you need." (Don't trust him) he whispered in my ear.

"L-Like what?" I moaned. back as he placed a finger on my bottom lip.

"Oh..a sultry, sexy professional who is a total sissy slut but poorly hides it." He whispered as I looked confused but I already had agreed when I humored the idea.

"O-ok--oh! N-No stop! T-That's the wr-oo~" A genuine moan slipped out as I gather my nerves once more."th-the wrong hole! T-This is unacceptable behavior towards your h-head nurse!" I snap. And part of it was how I truly felt but something in me..felt excited.

"We do what we want with sissy sluts like you~" Tim says and rubs his cock against my lips I could tell he was going to take it slow. "Now lick my cock like a lollipop head nurse~"

I almost did.. bit I stop myself.

"T-There's no way I'd lick that.. that thing." I said and I wasn't lying. "I wouldn't ever want to lick that dirty, disgusting ..huge.. thick ..cock.."

"Then we will just have to punish you~" Tom says and bites my ass and I yelp.

Tim starts to jerk off his cock occasionally smacking it against my cheeks and I moaned as he did and soon he came thick ropes of cum on my face and smearing it into my cheeks.

I let out a moan as he suddenly pushed it against my face once more.

"Come on you sissy, look at it. This is what a real man's cock is like. get a good look,because your cock will never be like this." He said smearing it against my cheek as my body suddenly shuddered, my cock and womanhood feeling weird..

"T-That's s-so cruel to say to your superior.." I said trying to not let my voice change.

(Oof mark being a superior. The only thing he's superior at is being a masochist who can cum while only sucking a cock)

(AMEN XD)

"You better star licking it or my brother here will fuck you senseless without any lube~" He orders and that made me shudder more.

"F-Fine you disgusting man~!" I say.

I look at the cock as I give a kiss to the head before licking up the shaft as I let out a moan when he brother would roll his tongue inside of mebefore he suddenly retracted as I ha e a confused look.

"Look at you, being a good slut." "You call yourself our superior, you're supposed to watch us and make sure we are safe, and here you are, taking orders from us. It's rather pathetic isn't it Tim? No wonder she dresses like a girl, she's not a man at all" he states as I kept licking the shaft as I actually shudder at the insult.

It was turning me on so damn much and I could feel my cock ache. "Her big cock is a lie to what she really is a sissy slut begging to be teased." Tom says.

I moaned as I was closer than ever.

However I tried to keep in the role but it was so hard..

"I think she's actually getting off to it and she hasn't even put your cock in her mouth."

I glared at him. "That is enough Ti-"

He cuts me off shoving his cock in my mouth. I let out a choked gag as he gripped my hair.

"sissy sex toys don't speak." He said.

"I think underneath all this is a whore who can't wait to be fucked up the ass, in nice frilly outfits, we'll even set some new rules what do you think Tom?"

"Oh I know she was born an anal slut. I agree though Tim. No standing to pee being one of them, with supervised bathroom trips just to make sure." He said as my fave burned red as I let out a whine. To have no control of how I went to the bathroom..to be told that they'd be making sure, taking any masculinity I had from me..it somehow aroused me as I only realized I was bucking my hips forward

"I think he finally wants something in her slutty ass~" Tim says.

"I agree~" Tom says with a smirk. "Ready for my cock you nasty slut~"

I look back at Tom as I couldn't help but pull from Tim's cock, giving a lick to it before answering.

"G-Give it to.me~.dont hold back~" I moan

He smirked and thrust in hard I cried out and Tim thrusts in my mouth again. They were now spit roasting me. I let out a loud moan into their crotch. Spit hung out the corners of my mouth as he would thrust in when Tim would thrust out, never lea I g me empty.

"Look at her, she's a total natural~"

"what about her sweet little bussy."

"Mmmphh,", I try to tell them no but it just came as a moan

"Nice a tight~ fits like a damn glove two sizes to small~" he moans. "Can't wait to fill it up~"

I felt so full..and it was just two fingers inside of me. I let out a loud moan pulling away from his cock as I rub my cheek against the dripping, slimey member, moaning at the feeling of being less than.

I almost could take it I needed to cum so bad~! It was all I wanted right now~

"Hm? What's this?" He asked a smirk on his face as I moan.

"I-I-I love your cock." I said as I kissed it as he smirked.

"do you think a sissy like you deserves to have such a nice cock ramming into her nasty slutty mouth?" He asked his tone making me shudder and clench around Tom.

"No but please! Give it to me! So me how much of a cock sleeve I am~!" I beg

He looked at me for a moment as he kissed me again. And although it seemed rough..it was so gentle. . Like he was making sure I didn't actually think that low of my self. He slowly pulled away only to lay his heavy, hot, twitching cock on my forehead.

"Well get to making yourself worthy." He said as I knew what he was implying he wanted me to do. "And don't forget to worship them, letting everyone hear how much you love them."

(Gag)

(Gags)

I started to lick his balls and mentally gaged I did not even kick my own balls. Why would I want to suck his but that is exactly what I did taking both into my mouth. I suck on him, feeling Tim's hand push against my clit as I moaned as I kiss and lick him before pulling up to the base, kissing, licking, biting at the shaft, smearing my lipstick.

He groaned and Then pulled back cumming on my face and I feel Tom cum on my ass I was drench in cum. "Who is next?" Tim asks and I fall to the floor they could not be serious.

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havetheavengersdoneanythingwrong · 3 years

Text

Act 2 -- The Two Suns Rise

The coffins raise;

the people fall;

into a land beyond what the People understand.

A magnificent kingdom where the two suns set;

A magnificent kingdom of peace, of glory, of [].

This, is [̴̴̄ͤ̓̊̅̓ͬ̓̾̋͋ͦͮ̍̊̒ͬ͏̢̫̙̼̤̼̥̗̟̀ͅQ͚̥̩̖̣̮̭̣͉͚̓̉ͫ̾̈́̍̅̽̏ͭͩ̍ͬ͗̎ͭ̀2͍̞̻̲͇́̅͋͗ͥ̾̓͐ͭ̓ͭͨͩ̚͢͞F̸̨̈́ͬ̾͗͑̒͊̆ͬ̆̓̑͗̽͊͋ͬ́̀҉̪̬̬̙͚̜͎̱̼̻̦ỹ̧̧̥̦̖̹̝̯̫̥̰͕͙̳̝̺̞̻̦͓̾͐͐ͭ̽͢͢Y̶̌ͮ̉̌̔͆̅́̔̃͗ͪ̒̍̚̚̚͏̡̡̠̯̟͉͚͙̺̞͓͓̝͢2̘͇̱̬̘̭̗̺̺̟̭̪͓̿̃ͯ͒̈̎̑̔̒̎̄ͧ͗̇ͨͯ̀͜9̶̅ͭ̿ͫͤ͋ͭ̋͐ͧͧ͐̍̊ͩͣ̾҉̤̠̳̬̩͓̫͈̣̳̬͟z̴̷̸̼͕̞͕̫̻͕̦͎͈͎̣̞͎̖̪̞ͥͨ͌͗͑͂ͯ͗̈ͪ̈́͑̎ͬ̈́̚ͅY̴̶̐͊͛̃ͦ̈́͒ͥ̊͒̂̿͐̆͏̸̢̙̺̰̤̖̘͉̼̰̱̣S̫̜̫̦̗̈́͊͌̃͝͡4̱̘̤̦̩̦̩̹ͣ̊ͬ̐͂͛͆͋̏ͨ̂ͯ͊̒͢͜=̷͙͙̟̞̯̙͙͍̹̞̪̞̪̘͓͊̋̈ͬ͋̃̀̚̕]̵̮̜̭͍͚͍̮͓̩̪̟͇͓̙̬͍̻̾̾͂ͪ̍̋ͣ̚͜͠

They take their seats.

The seats of the Audience creak as they [sit/lay back/laze/choke].

Laughter fills, overflows the room.

The foolishness of man.

The folly of man.

The cowardice, the stupidity of man.

They witness it all. The actor who was given a broken script, tied together with wire that shatters at a passing wind.

It will begin. The performer knows. They have been waiting all their life.

[Prepare yourselves. A grand adventure begins now. Of the folly/foolishness/demise of man.]

The Audience [cheers/screams/vomits] their applause.

They trust the one who arranges a cast before them -- of masked beings, and of the mask on the table, unused. They pick up their folding fan, the cloth, and smile.

[Let us begin our show.]

"...Good morning, Cadence."

...There's a knock at the door.

The process to waking up were always the same. Ritsuka would always pop up around now, anyways -- calling for me, rapping their knuckles against my door carefully.

The heat, however, would do the rest of the work in awaking me. That same warmth that tended to lull me to sleep...

"...My lord."

...It's suffocating.

"...My lord, you appear to be having some trouble breathing."

...My eyes slowly blinked open, to the sight of a smiling -- if mildly worried- Ushiwakamaru before me. Her mask lay off to the side, as it were the night before, though with the tight vice on us inflicted by Gorgon's tail -- it wouldn't be likely that she could use it anyways.

"...A bit. Nothing I can't recover from."

...Easier said than done, however -- the grip of, well, Gorgon was hard to overstate. Like King Kong grasping hold of their victim atop a tower, though perhaps a bit more comfortable.

"...That said... Gorgon, are you awake?"

...The sleep in my eyes slowly gave way to the darkened quarters I had by now called my home. A decently-sized kotatsu, what was effectively the replacement for a bed at this point, lay in the middle -- about all I could see in the dark, save for the faint outline of Gorgon rolling about a bit past Ushi's head.

"...Yes. As much as I would prefer to have continued resting, your movements have..."

"...Go figure."

...In a moment, the vice grip lessened -- and, perhaps not unlike a bat fresh out of hell, I desperately crawled out, pulling the collar of my shirt to let in some much-needed cooler air.

It seemed Ushi was not too far off, either, making a beeline for her mask, and letting it 'disintegrate' into her Spirit Origin once more, as Gorgon slowly stood up and stretched herself out.

Allowing myself to stumble over to the light switch, finally giving the lot of us some much-needed illumination, my eyes shifted to the lady resting on the bed. 'Presumably, the heat was a bit much.'

Even so -- despite her position being at ease, the woman's blue eyes shot directly over towards me.

"...You're awake, Cadence. I would hope you're prepared to be furthering our rule today, as well."

"I think we have slightly bigger concerns, don't we?"

At my response, the lady only smirked -- sitting up on the bed, she'd rest her head on her closed fist, and raise an eyebrow towards me.

"This Singularity, too, is an obstacle to ruling. You would do well to remove it."

"I wonder how the lot of us would even rule to begin with."

The lady sighed out, as though aware of something I were not.

"You would not be the first king to hold with you a concubine."

"--I'm sorry?!"

"Why, as long as we may share in those honours, I see no reason why it could not work."

Though, she'd stop talking at the glare of Gorgon -- and the snakes, too. At that, she'd stand, walking to the door, though waiting for me to open it.

"Your anger need not be directed at me -- not when you'd be better set serving the King."

"--You damned..."

"I'm sure there will be plenty of cronies to spend your anger on, wherever we are to be headed. Destroy them in my place."

...Despite the cold delivery of her words, the joking jabs certainly worked as intended. Taking care not to say a word until the tensions cooled slightly, I slipped the door open -- in time for Morgan to march through the door, and in time for Gorgon to 'calmly' leave after her. Once the two had set out, Ushiwaka stepped out -- and as did I, just after.

"...My lord, those two always seem to be on the verge of fighting. I would hope not over..."

"I'd sincerely hope the title of 'bad harem anime protagonist' isn't one added to my record. I already have enough titles as is."

"Courtesy of Ritsuka?"

"Who else?"

...The warrior beside me laughed, gently, and began to up her pace -- seemingly intent on catching up to Gorgon and Morgan, who seemed to already be a ways ahead on the path to the Command Room.

"My lord -- you should come a bit faster, you know. Wouldn't want to miss out on Ritsuka's prime explanations, would you?"

'...Are those really so looked forward to?'

...The Command Room was a full place that day.

The Coffins meant for each of the many Masters remained lined up, ready for use -- though it rarely saw a time where more than a few would be closed, and utilized.

At the midpoint between each one, Ritsuka stood -- their smile far weaker than before, at a glance, only to perk up as they felt the gaze of their colleagues.

To their right stood a familiar face -- the goddess summoned not long earlier, Tlazolteotl. Adjusting the headdress upon her head, her gaze settled on me with a borderline bone-chilling smirk before returning to the others.

'...She just keeps doing that.'

After a moment spent waiting for each individual to line up -- myself, Ushiwakamaru, Gorgon, Morgan, Tlazolteotl, and the Caster of Rakugo -- Ritsuka clapped their hands together.

"...Alright! Da Vinci's a little busy today, so I've been put in charge of debriefing this stuff. Olga's never liked the weird stuff this Singularity's got, so she's sitting this one out too, the coward."

'...Da Vinci, did you curse us?'

"Long story short, we've found us a Singularity in the midst of Canada. I... can't really confirm much about what's going on in there, and neither can the others."

...Ritsuka's hand moved up to their cheek, scratching it lightly.

"What I do know is, so far as I'm aware, it's in a city called 'Carcosa' in Manitoba. There's a whole new thing there -- a monarchy -- and whatever it's doing is causing this mess."

'...Carcosa... The capital of Canada.' Simple enough information -- truthfully, what bothered me was what the King were doing down there. 'During my youth, he was far kinder, wasn't he? What changed so much that a Singularity would come about?'

...Though, Ritsuka gave little time for me to process that.

"That's the gist of it. We've been watching it over the past few weeks, and it's just now gotten to the point where we can head to it. The crew we've gathered here should be able to take care of things just fine. We've got a few minutes 'til everything's ready, so do what you need to now."

Calling the meeting off just as quickly as they started it, the uniformity of the Command Room was just as quickly split off -- while Ushiwaka and Morgan turned to examine their coffins, Tlazolteotl pulled both them and Gorgon together -- most likely, whispering some nonsense to them -- before breaking off again.

'...Though, whatever she said, the three of them...'

Surely, I were just making it up -- seeing those three suddenly so serious seemed ridiculous. 'Maybe a bit of fresh air could fix my head, before I jump in.'

So, that in mind, I slipped out of the command room to find the closest equivalent to fresh air -- an empty Chaldean hallway with an A/C unit blowing into it.

...

'Silence.'

Even the commotion of chatter and footsteps in the Command Room was blocked out by the noisy, yet calming sound of an out-of-date air conditioner blowing both air and noise through the vents. Such a thing could easily have you wondering how a unit could be so loud -- and surely, I were, up until I felt a 'friendly' slap to my back.

"--Arash?!"

"Not quite."

My gaze moved behind me -- met with an uncharacteristically calm grin, from a Rider who almost immediately had me frozen still.

"--Please get away from me, Columbus."

...A thief. A horrible thief, of the worst order -- but for once in his life, he heeded instructions, and stepped back.

"...Hm, just as they stated. Go figure you wouldn't trust me even when I'm acting so pleasant."

"--Couldn't you just go die..?!"

"Not yet. Master, there's still money to gain from this place, and I'm not leaving 'til my coffers are filled to bursting and then some. But that's why you've ought to succeed."

...

'...What?'

"--You know as well as I do you're being unsummoned after this!"

"Maybe so, but you'd better believe I'm taking some of that sweet Canadian syrup with me to the Throne. Bring some back when you roast that place to the ground, you hear?"

'...Right, there was a black market of the stuff.'

At any normal occasion, I would likely have called Columbus on his bluff -- that, surely, he'd be all too happy to take the Singularity's residents too, for whatever end he desired.

...But he just turned around, and moved away from the route to the Command Room.

"I own the people here as well as anything else, Master. I may as well gain some stacks off that little Quebecois trade just to spite that place."

'...Go figure. That wasn't encouragement, just a command.'

Briefly, perhaps I would have considered an almost-polite thing coming from a man like that to be an attempt at raising morale -- but, of course, a man like him would have too much trouble not showing his true colours.

'...No wonder I don't trust that thief.'

...Allowing my heart to settle, I turned back to the Command Room -- or at least, the route to it that surely only took me a few hallways.

...Perhaps out of a mixture of spite for that cocky bastard, and from the fact his raw rudeness distracted me from my worries, I took my steps back to the final part of my journey.

...The coffins were never comfortable. Certainly, it only made sense -- they were called coffins.

Beside me, in adjacent coffins, lay Kagekiyo and Gorgon -- hard to miss the latter, as the coffin would usually have to be adjusted for her mildly larger size. Morgan had situated herself somewhere nearby, perhaps adjacent to Gorgon just to mess with her a bit, and Tlaz was... somewhere.

As the Chaldea staff looked over each coffin, fussed over Ritsuka's messily-worn Mystic Code, doted on the Caster right next to them, and listened to Olga barking orders in a terrified-yet-certain demeanour, Ritsuka's eyes settled on me from across the room.

[...You ready for this one?] They mouthed out the words to me, giving a wink at the end of it.

[...Ready as I can be.]

...The coffin doors closed--

--Those words uttered by the machine, the spiritron unsummoning, all of it --

--It had grown the same as always. Even the coffins, mechanical as they seemed, uncomfortable as they were, were familiar -- comforting, almost. Part of 'home.'

'...Part of home, huh?'

...Even thinking of 'home,' only that kotatsu would come to mind.

Perhaps it was due to the time that passed, but that empty, dark room in Toronto felt like little more than a passing dream. The loneliness that felt so stifling back then, now seemed so far away, as though it could never reach me.

'...This is my last mission. And... Afterwards, I'll go home.'

'...After this mission, I'll find a home, and... Everything will be okay.'

...Even when my soul left my form, perhaps to send itself to the final Singularity, there were no worries left. Not even the fear of the transfer failing.

Wherever I opened my eyes next, this would be my final fight.

"...Girls, would it be too harsh to bring you three in for a little talk~? It's about your hubby."

The mischievous voice of Tlazolteotl had captured the ears of the three women -- Ushiwakamaru, who turned on her heel with a curious gaze, answered first, as Gorgon gazed behind her with a long, long sigh out.

"What's the problem? If you're due to take the high ground about his circumstances..."

"Not quite, Ushi. I'd be in no place to talk, you know -- certainly, you aren't the only ones he has acting unwise."

While Gorgon opened her mouth to respond -- likely with a large amount of swears -- Tlaz placed a finger to the being's mouth, and shushed her.

"...Sort out your problems now. Figure out what your relationship looks like -- something I must do as well -- before this Singularity is over."

...At that, Morgan finally found herself bothered to turn around and listen.

"...And why is that?"

"...Ritsuka. They told me something."

...Cold ground awakened me.

Dirt surely stuck to my cheek as I sat up, holding my forehead in the palm of my spare hand to dissuade the headache that tended to come of these rayshifts.

My gaze slowly sharpened, my eyes now settling on the few people before me.

Caster, who had landed sitting down, glancing directly up at the sky.

Gorgon, who was only now standing up, her brow furrowed, faintly cursing.

Kagekiyo -- who was standing still in the dark soil beneath, as though they had been there the entire time.

Morgan, who was dusting off the dirt from her dress -- making use of the gentle moonlight to figure out where it all was.

Tlazolteotl, fixing her poncho as to show some modesty, warming her hands with some steam.

Ritsuka, face down in the dirt.

The large, faintly yellow moon, shining down upon us, and a sky completely blackened -- lacking even the hint of a star.

A forest surrounding us, of evergreen trees, grown as though each intended to touch the sky.

And a woman with red hair, a crow at her side, whose blue eyes suddenly pierced through the lenses of her glasses, through the air -- directly towards us.

"...Who are all of you?"

#fgo #mastersona #gudasona #l o r e #cadenceloreposting #columbina #AE of Rakugo #caster of rakugo

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part two

summary: the pogues get up to a few shenanigans, burn the shit out of some marshmallows, and have a group hug of epic proportions. the dynamic duo of kiara and sailor brings out girl power in full force before getting real about a certain golden group rule.

word count: 4.2k+

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: mentions of abuse/neglect/parental abandonment/anxiety, underage drinking, weed usage, more fluff, flirting, reference to absolute legend kobe bryant

a/n: hello again! thank you all for the great response to part one, i’m seriously blown away and so grateful for your support! <3 i’m happy y’all enjoyed reading about sailor’s adventures with the pogues! here’s part two, which had previously been combined with part one but i decided to split it because it was getting wayyyy too long (over 8k words, oops). also i’ve never even seen weed with my own two eyes before so my bad if that part’s not realistic, i did my best lol. unbetaed, so i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy!

gif credit goes to @toesure

~Masterlist~

part one | part three | part four | playlist

part two: treading water

The pogues spend the next few hours among the waves, surfing their hearts out until they’re waterlogged, exhausted, and hungry. As the sun starts to sink over the island they pile into John B’s beat up Volkswagen, all their boards tied together on the roof, and head to The Wreck, where Kiara’s dad begrudgingly feeds his daughter and her ‘delinquent’ friends.

That word seems pretty harsh at first but as the evening goes on and the group gets a little louder, it’s kind of well-deserved. Pope can’t seem to stop dropping his fork, sending the rest of them into hysterical laughter each time, and everyone knows when Taylor Swift comes on the radio, Sailor has an obligation to get up and dance. The fact that she knocks a chair over in her haste to show off her moves only makes them laugh harder. When they finally leave and head back to the Chateau for the night, she makes sure to put forty bucks on their table for the food and the twelve pack of beer Kiara swipes from behind the bar when Mr. Carrera isn’t looking.

While it may not look like much, John B’s house if home for more than just him. It’s a safe port for all the pogues when they get lost in the storm, a place where they can all be themselves, be real, without judgement, and it’s Sailor’s second favorite place on the island. She’s lost count of how many nights she’s spent here, sleeping in the spare room, on the pull-out couch, and the hammock in the yard (sleepovers have become even more common in the eight months since Big John’s disappearance at sea, no one willing to leave his son all alone in an empty house.).

The hammock is where she finds herself now on this warm June night, sitting beside JJ with his arm around her shoulders, clad in his sweatshirt that she unashamedly stole last year, passing a joint back and forth while the others lounge around the small bonfire, roasting the old marshmallows John B found in the very back of one of his kitchen’s cupboards and drinking beer. One of her long legs dangles over the edge, toes pushing against the cool grass as they lazily swing back and forth, watching Kiara burn her third marshmallow in a row.

“Kie, what did those poor things ever do to you?” Sailor asks, exhaling smoke through her nose before passing the joint to JJ, and the brush of his fingers against hers sends warmth through her whole body. Kiara just shoots her the bird in response as she stabs her fourth marshmallow and holds it over the fire. The redhead laughs and rests her head against JJ’s shoulder, her limbs light as air. In the distance, lightning arcs between the clouds and creates a dazzling show over the water as thunder rumbles but none of them care enough to notice.

Although she never outright asks to smoke, she also never refuses the chance to get high with her best friend and let their problems drift away with every hit, if only for a little while. Lines get a little blurry between them, too, as both become oh so affectionate with each other when their inhibitions disappear like the sun over the horizon. She sighs contentedly at the blissful feeling of his fingers running through her hair and burrows further into his side, turning so she can throw an arm over his waist and curl her own fingers into the soft material of his shirt.

“Damn it!” John B yells as his marshmallow, in the span of a few seconds, catches fire and unceremoniously falls into the flames with a hiss.

“Ha, I’m not the only one on the struggle bus!” Kiara laughs gleefully, delicately turning her fourth attempt to keep it from burning like the other three. “We can’t all be Pope, I guess.”

The other boy looks up at the mention of his name and grins, holding out a perfectly toasted marshmallow on the end of the stick in his hand. “It takes talent, Kie.” He jokes, chuckling as she sticks her tongue out at him.

Sailor can’t help laughing, too when the two of them dive headfirst into a heated discussion about the finer points of roasting things over a campfire, their voices becoming louder and louder as they try to talk over one another while John B, unfazed from his spot between them, just holds another marshmallow over the fire and ignores them completely as he takes a sip of his beer.

“Aaaand JB’s totally checked out of that particular conversation,” She says to JJ under her breath and she feels more than hears him laugh in response.

“Poor bastard,” He whispers back before taking one last hit of the joint, now burnt down to a nub in his hand, and flicking it into the fire with a shout of “Kobe!”

“Nice one, hotshot.” She shifts her head up on his shoulder as her eyes unabashedly trace his profile in the warm orange glow of the fire, from the golden hair falling haphazardly onto his forehead and down the straight slope of his nose to the curve of his lips before she’s caught -not that she was being subtle in any possible way-, his ocean blue gaze holding hers with an electrified energy that would’ve normally set her whole face aflame. She’s not Normal Sailor now though, she’s High Sailor and High Sailor has positively zero shame so she just looks up at him with a saccharine smile on her face and blesses the fact that weed makes her bold as hell.

The flickering flames throw JJ’s features into sharp relief and highlight the dimples that she loves as he returns her smile, the hand in her hair now twirling a single curl around his finger. His free hand settles on the strip of bare skin at her waist where her sweatshirt has ridden up and her heart beats a little faster when he starts drawing agonizingly slow circles with his thumb. Her hand releases its grip on his shirt and before she even realizes it, she’s reaching up and brushing a finger along her jaw, just like he’d done to her that afternoon on the beach, and she feels the fingers at her waist press against her skin.

It’s moments like these that make her wish she could freeze time and live in them forever. Just the two of them, looking at each other like they’re more than just friends, touching each other like they’re falling into something beautiful and all they need to do is stick the landing. The possibility of taking that final leap teases her. He’s so close, it wouldn’t take much to just reach up and make that minuscule distance between them disappear and from the way his eyes flick down to her mouth and back, she’s sure he’s thinking the same. They won’t though and for now that’s okay, but deep down she wonders just how long they can balance on the cliff’s edge before they both fall.

As much as she’d like to stare at his stupidly handsome face all night, the weather has other plans as lightning flashes white across the sky, immediately followed by a big crack of thunder that makes Sailor jump and accidentally headbutt JJ right in the forehead. The stick in Pope’s hand goes flying somewhere into the bushes when he startles, too, and there’s a pause as everyone looks at each other before bursting into wild laughter.

“Jesus, Sail,” JJ says, reaching up to rub at the spot she hit, “you have a hard head.”

Her reply of “speak for yourself!” is drowned out by another clap of thunder and seconds later it starts pouring rain, sending the group scrambling to head back inside the Chateau before they get too drenched. The duo, in their haste, get tangled together in the hammock and nearly fall to the ground in a heap but manage to hold each other up with their hands clasped tight, both laughing so hard she’s sure the water on their faces is more than just rain.

“The beer! Don’t forget the beer!” Someone yells and John B, halfway to the porch in front of them, does a smooth 180 on the wet grass and runs back for the booze sitting beside the dying fire, sending them a lazy salute when he passes by.

“We honor your sacrifice, Captain!” JJ calls over his shoulder before they clamber onto the porch alongside a giggling Kiara.

“Oh my God, you two almost bit it so hard.” She says while wringing out her shirt, adding to the steadily growing puddle of water at their feet.

“But we didn’t, all thanks to me and my impeccable balance.” He says proudly, grinning down at the girl still snug against his side before she lets go of his hand to slug him in the shoulder.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Oh please, J, I was the one who kept you from falling on your face. Now, hold still.” Sailor orders and places her hand on his arm, using him for balance as she brushes the grass from her feet.

“Yes, ma’am.” His reply is low in her ear, his hand settles even lower on her back, and she pretends the shiver her body makes is just from the cool rain.

“You like being bossed around, Maybank?”

Her hand grips his strong shoulder a little bit tighter, and she feels his fingers tighten on her sweatshirt as he replies, “Depends on who’s doing the bossing, Flynn.”

Kiara coughs pointedly, staring at them with her eyebrows raised and Sailor feels her face begin to flush bright red because, to be honest, she’d kind of forgotten she was even there as they both let go of each other. The other girl snickers and drawls, “If you two are quite done-”

Thankfully, a thoroughly soaked John B joins them and interrupts whatever Kiara was going to say, his hair plastered to his face and dripping onto the soggy carton of beer protectively cradled in his arms.

“Mission accomplished.” He says with a satisfied smile, setting the drinks down on a chair before shaking his head like a dog and splattering rainwater on everyone, including Pope as he emerges from the house carrying a pile of towels. A few drops land on his cheek and he wrinkles his nose in disgust, wiping them away with his own towel hanging around his neck.

“I was just kidding about the beer.” He says, throwing one and smacking John B right in the face, then kindly passing out the rest. Sailor barely grabs the last one before Pope’s suddenly put in a headlock by the brunet boy, yelling something about mutiny and a captain “not standing for this” as they start to grapple back and forth. JJ pauses in the middle of drying his hair and instantly jumps into the fray after tossing his towel to the floor, the scuffle quickly turning into a three way wrestling match.

She and Kiara both glance at each other and roll their eyes before scooting by the melee and heading into the house, leaving the boys to do their thing. They quickly dry off and change into pajamas, hang their wet clothes up to dry in the bathroom, and then tiredly flop onto the bed in the spare room together.

“How long do you think it’ll take until Wrestlemania out there’s done?” Sailor asks, rolling onto her stomach and reaching to pull her phone and glasses out of her bag on the floor; under her newly acquired hat, the lightning whelk peeks through its towel and the sight of it makes her smile softly. Kiara snorts and sits up, crossing her legs and running her fingers through her damp hair. “Knowing those fools, too long.”

The redhead laughs and mirrors the other girl’s position before slipping her glasses on and glancing down at her phone in trepidation, where no new texts block the lock screen picture of her and the rest of the pogues, and she does her best to ignore the hurt coiling in her chest, the smile fading from her face. She places the phone screen down on the bedside table and when she raises her head, she’s not surprised to find Kiara, ever so perceptive, staring at her with sympathy in her soft brown eyes.

“You okay?” She asks and Sailor takes off her glasses, then pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.

“Could be better.”

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by an impressive crack of thunder a few seconds later as rain continues to pound against the window and down the hall, they hear the door slam closed as the boys finally storm inside after their scuffle, still yelling like banshees. The other girl reaches over and quickly squeezes her wrist before shooting her a bright smile.

“If you ever need to vent, I’m all ears.”

She knows she means it. Aside from JJ, Kiara’s her closest friend and from the moment they met, the two had quickly bonded over being the only girls in the group and their love of the environment: she’s lost count of how many times they’ve volunteered, both themselves and the rest of the pogues, to help raise money for animals. Despite Kiara’s kook year, Sailor considers her a sister and knows that Kie feels the same about her. Having each other’s backs no matter what is just what they do.

The redhead looks away from watching the storm outside and matches Kiara’s smile, then scoots closer to wrap her arms around her in a grateful hug.

“Thanks, Kie.”

The dark haired girl eagerly returns the embrace. “Any-”

“Comin’ through, gotta get me some of this group hug action!” JJ yells, storming into the room like a hurricane and throwing his arms around them, all but tackling them onto the bed before they even realize what’s happening.

“No, no, you’re still wet!” Sailor cries as his head rests against the back of her neck, his damp hair slowly beginning to soak into her shirt while Kiara growls, “Oh my God, get off!”

“And miss out on this? No way.” He says cheekily and pulls them both closer, ignoring the dark haired girl’s venomous glare and attempts to pry his hand away from her arm. Sailor, resigned to her fate, just laughs and calls over his arm to John B and Pope as they curiously poke their heads in from the hall, “Get your asses in here!”

She doesn’t have to tell them twice. They throw themselves into the hug faster than she can blink and with such contagious enthusiasm that Kiara can’t fight the affectionate grin making its way onto her face, even as she threatens, “I’m gonna kill all of you.”

Sailor rests her cheek on JJ’s outstretched arm and smiles to herself. This, right here and now, is where she belongs, surrounded by the best friends she could ask for, living each moment to its fullest. No matter what comes their way, she knows this is true: as long as they all stand together, the pogues will be just fine.

Some time later, the hug comes to an end as JJ jokingly complains about Sailor’s big head making his arm numb, which earns him a swift elbow to the stomach from the redhead.

“Weak.” She replies, smirking at the little oof he makes before grabbing his arm and pulling them both up from the bed. “Now get out.”

“Please.” Kiara agrees and pushes John B out the door, followed by Pope. “This room is girls only.”

“Since when?” The latter asks, sidestepping to avoid JJ as he’s playfully shoved into the hall by Sailor, who replies, “Right now.”

“Why?”

“’Cause we said so!” Both girls say in unison before they slam the door shut and then lean their backs against it, giggling. On the other side, they hear Pope ask in a very amused voice, “I thought this was your house?”

John B sighs the deepest sigh they’ve ever heard before replying, “Yeah, I did, too.”

“Ten bucks they’re gonna talk shit about us.” JJ says and there’s a not so subtle bump against the door that gives away the fact that he’s got his ear pressed to it, trying to listen in on them; a fact that gets proven when Sailor smacks her hand on it and makes him stumble back with a yelp of surprise.

“Dream on!”

“You wish!”

She and Kiara call at the same time, then glance at each other and burst into another fit of giggles.

“Tough break, dude. You’ll feel better in the morning.” That was John B’s tactless way of saying he’s tired without actually saying it and seconds later they hear his footsteps disappear down the hall to his room as he makes his escape, followed faintly by the sound of his door swinging shut.

“You don’t talk about us at all, Sail? Seriously?” JJ asks and Sailor can almost feel the sheer force of Pope’s inevitable eye roll when he mumbles under his breath, “Oh my God.”

Kiara’s on the same wavelength as him because she rolls her eyes, too and all but yells, “If we say yes will you fucking leave?”

There’s a pause and then: a slightly miffed “...yes.” along with Pope trying and failing to disguise his laugh as a cough.

“Then yes, we do talk about you. Now go.”

“Okay, okay! Jeez.”

“Goodnight, boys!” Sailor calls in a singsong voice before hearing them retreat to the living room, arguing about who gets the sleeper sofa and who gets stuck with the regular couch. When she’s sure they’re gone she shakes her head fondly (she doesn’t see why they can’t just get over themselves and share the damn thing) and turns back to Kiara, who’s already in the middle of pulling the damp comforter from the bed, her face the picture of disgust.

“Ugh,” She shudders, tossing it to the floor and then wiping her hands on a discarded towel from earlier. “Don’t touch that.”

“No shit.”

The dark haired girl jokingly flips Sailor the bird and then joins her in lounging on the bed, watching the fan spin in circles above their heads while the storm outside continues to rage on. The silence is comforting, soothing, and goes on for so long that the redhead’s nearly sent off to dreamland by the sound of the rain before Kiara finally speaks, “Hey, Sail?”

She hums in response, slowly turning her head to face her and blinking the sleep out of her eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” She replies with an impish grin, but it slips from her face when the other girl shoots her a flat, unamused glance.

“Ha ha. I’m being serious, okay?”

Well that wasn’t worrying at all. “Is something wrong?” Sailor asks, rolling onto her side to face her friend completely and propping her head on her arm, all traces of lethargy thrown out the window. Kiara does the same with an unreadable look in her eyes as she answers, “No, I’m just a little...okay, a lot curious about something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“I mean, I kind of have to. You know I suck at lying.”

She frowns when Kiara doesn’t even react to her comment and instead starts to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s kind of a personal question, though.”

Oh, Jesus. She’s gonna ask about her dad, Sailor knows it, and that’s something she’s just not ready to talk about -she hasn’t even told JJ the whole story yet and she tells him (almost) everything- but before she can think of a semi-decent excuse, or run to the bathroom, or pretend to just pass the fuck out, Kiara blurts, “What’s the deal between you and JJ?”

Okay, that’s decidedly not what she expected to hear and it completely throws her for a loop, her brain blowing a fuse in epic fashion. A long stream of gibberish comes from her mouth as she tries and fails to articulate a response because holy hell she’s so not prepared for this; she’s a listener, not a talker! She’s the confidante not the confider, the asker not the answerer, and she can feel herself getting a little sweaty at just the thought of talking about her feelings, even with someone as close to her as Kiara. She almost wishes the other girl had asked about her dad.

To be honest she should’ve seen this coming, considering the looks Kiara’s been sending her recently and especially today, the ones that clearly meant that the dark haired girl’s seen what’s been happening and wants. that. tea. What Sailor doesn’t get though, is why she’s being so serious about it: she expects at least an overexaggerated wink or a teasing comment or two from her friend but she’s just waiting patiently, the slightest hint of mirth in her eyes.

Finally, the redhead manages to collect her panicked thoughts enough to squeak oh so eloquently, “Me-him-nothing!”

Kiara arches one eyebrow. “Sail, you really do suck at lying.”

Sailor flops back onto the bed and slides her hands down her furiously blushing face with a groan. “I’m not lying.” She mutters insistently but even she can admit it sounds weak as hell.

“It’s obvious there’s something-”

Something in her snaps and before she can stop them, words just start coming out with the force of a wave crashing against the shore, rough and callous. “It’s obvious there’s nothing going on, okay? Nothing. And even if there was -not that I’m saying there is- it can’t happen. That’s the golden rule, Kie.”

Kiara looks momentarily taken aback at the redhead’s outburst and then rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before she whispers quietly, like a secret she’s reluctant to share, “Maybe I think that rule is stupid.”

“Stupid?” Sailor glances over incredulously, the brief flash of anger aimed at her friend slowly morphing into confusion. “You’re the one who came up with it in the first place!”

“I know...” The dark haired girl sighs, tiredly running her hands through her hair, “I wanted to keep things from getting weird! It’s worked pretty well so far but I’m kind of, sort of, maybe starting to think it might not have been the best idea.”

“Why?” She asks, brow furrowing.

Kiara appears deep in thought as she keeps staring at the ceiling, working her jaw until she seems to come to a decision and turns her head to look Sailor in the eye. “Because I don’t think something as simple as a rule should be able to dictate who you can or can’t...love.”

Oh, God. Anxiety starts to take hold in her chest and she tries to keep her brain from going into five-alarm fire mode, her fingers tapping nervously against her leg. Why oh why did she have to say the L-word? Who said anything about that? Hell, it’s been a few months and she’s still getting used to her world-changing, panic-inducing, everything-clicking-into-place epiphany that made her realize that she does, in fact, like JJ as more than a friend (how and when her feelings changed, she hasn’t quite figured that out yet.). She’s not even close to thinking about love. Noticing her friend’s distress, Kiara reaches over to place her darker hand on the paler girl’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m not saying you love him, okay? But there’s obviously something good going on between you guys and I’m not cool with some dumb rule we made when we were twelve getting in the way of your happiness,” Her mouth curls into a lighthearted smirk, “even if it happens to be with someone as, uh, distinct as JJ.”

Despite herself, Sailor snorts a laugh and the tight feeling in her chest slowly starts to become a little more bearable as its replaced by a swell of gratitude that she has a person as wonderful as Kiara for a friend. She really did luck out in that department, she thinks, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile.

“Distinct?”

“Hey, I was gonna say idiotic but I’m trying to be nice here.” The dark haired girl says, laughing as Sailor affectionately rolls her eyes before continuing, “But you do know that if he messes this up I’ll kick his ass, right?”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Good.” She punctuates that with a massive yawn, then rolls away from her and pulls the sheets higher over her chest, mumbling, “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed. All this deep talk made me tired.”

“Big mood,” Sailor replies, reaching over and flicking off the bedside lamp, the only light now coming from the occasional flash of lightning through the windows as she rolls comfortably onto her side, tucking her arm under the pillow. Silence settles over them, dark and calm and stretching for who knows how long before she says quietly, “Thanks, Kie.”

There’s no answer. Realizing she must’ve already nodded off, the redhead’s just about to crash herself when her friend’s reply softly cuts through the silence like a knife.

“You’re not the only one I did it for.”

Kiara doesn’t say anything after that and Sailor falls asleep wondering what, or rather who, exactly the other girl meant.

let me know what you think!

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