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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

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Off the Beaten Track

For The Slumber Party Writer’s Warm-Up. I got:

Summary: Your taxi ride takes an unexpected turn (2.4k)

Character: Lee Bodecker

Warnings: noncon, past trauma, allusions to cheating.

Please leave some feedback and reblog! Also check out the Slumber Party event coming up in February and support your fellow writers. We will be sharing other warm-up drabbles there!

You drop your bag on the seat, sidling in after it and pulling the door shut. You recite your destination as you buckle your seat belt. The taxi smells of the stale air freshener dangling beneath the mirror and a hint of woodsy cologne. The drive greets you with the usual, “how are you?”

“Well, you?” Comes the typical knee jerk response. It’s not entirely true or false. Middling, you’d say, at best.

“Busy day,” he answers as he idles behind the next cab, a row of them crowding the airport lot.

“Yeah, must be around here,” you utter as you take out your phone, scrolling through you work email. A dozen missed on the plain.

“Vacation?” He asks as he leans on the gas lightly, puttering behind the slow roll.

“Not exactly,” you reply after a moment, agitated slightly. You don’t have time for a chat. Most drivers just turn up the radio and drive, “work trip.”

“Ah, one of those,” he comments.

You meet his eyes in the mirror. Vibrant. Intense. Not what you expect.

“What hotel did you say?” He drawls in his twangy accent, “sorry, so many around here.”

“The Hilltop.”

“Nice place. Probably the nicest in town.”

You nod and look back down on your phone. Your company covered travel and accommodation, you didn’t care if it was the most expensive place in the state. You weren’t going to do much more than sleep between meetings.

“How far out?” You ask as traffic remains congested.

“Rush hour, I reckon, could be an hour.”

“An hour?” You echo and open Teams. Maybe they can meet you at the hotel.

“Yeah, once we’re clear of downtown, though, should clear out.”

“Hmm,” you pick your lip and stare at your phone. Complaining won’t make him or anyone else move faster.

“So, work trip, huh? Far from home?”

You hide your frown and rest your phone against your leg, “yeah, bit out of the way.”

“How’s your husband feel about that? You travel a lot?”

You squint. You could tell him everything. Your husband is away just as much. You may as well toss the ring. As empty as your home.

“It’s work,” you say noncommittally.

“Yeah, yeah, gotta make money,” he puts on his blinker as you ignore his glance in the mirror. He sure is talkative. You’re too tired for the conversation, “sorry, ma’am, hope I’m not bothering. Drivin’ all day, guess I get a bit bored.”

“It’s fine,” your reassurance is more brusque than you intend. “Jetlag, that’s all.”

He says nothing and flips on the radio. You almost let out a sigh of relief. That’s your signal to zone out. You pick up your phone and check your messages. There’s a conference room at the hotel, you can meet there, Barber confirms. You agree and lower the screen, shutting your eyes as you clamp a yawn behind your lips.

Your flight was spent staring at a wall of text and lines in a spreadsheet. The letters and numbers are burned into your retinas. You rub your eyelids and open them, glancing around sleepily. You watch the meter climb and your eyes fall to the ID displayed beneath it; L. Bodecker. The picture is too small to make out more than the dark hair and those eyes, brilliant even in print.

“Tired?” He turns the volume down.

“A bit,” you affirm and lean your chin in your hand.

“I’ll keep this down, I don’t mind if ya nap. I’ll wake ya when we get to Hilltop.”

You look ahead, through the windshield. You can’t see much past his shoulder. You sigh. Traffic is like a wall.

“Thanks.”

You close your eyes with no intent of actually sleeping. You’ll get yourself together and go back to your emails. You have a millions things to catch up on for the conference. Another yawn crawls up your throat. Once more, you hold it back.

You sit back against the leather seat, the car moving slowly, the motion lulling you. Just another second and you’ll open your eyes. Your phone vibes with a message. You’ll answer that. One more second. Two. Three.

🚕

The soft crunch of gravel drifts into your consciousness as you slowly awaken. Fuck. You didn’t mean to fall asleep. You swallow a yawn as you open your eyes, startled at the sight of the dark sky. It’s night already. You look at the clock, 7:43pm. Shit, you’re late.

You sit up, the seatbelt straining across your front, and glance around. You don’t see much. Trees, shadows, endless bush.

“I thought you said an hour,” you breathe.

The driver scoffs and keeps his foot sunk on the pedal, steering through the narrow path. Your stomach sinks like and anvil. You undo your belt and slide forward on the seat.

“Sir, you’re supposed to take me to the hotel–”

“You ain’t got much manners, do you,” he sneers, “now you sit back, you’re gon’ hurt yourself.”

“Right, sir, I’m calling the cops.”

You feel around for your phone. It must’ve slipped as you slept. You search the seat and bend forward as you stretch your hand out onto the floor. He tuts and takes a deep breath.

“Won’t get no signal out here anyway, but it ain’t back there,” he chides, “now, you sit back.”

“Sir, what are you–”

He slams on the break and your head hits the seat, jarring your neck violently. You grunt and recoil.

“I warned ya,” he snarls as you sense him stirring around, “put this on. Now.”

He reaches back without turning. You see only a dark strip of fabric, curved at the bottom. You don’t move and he wiggles it gruffly.

“Trust me when I say, honey, you don’t want me to come back and put it on ya.”

“Sir, please, I don’t know— what do you want? You can keep my phone. I got a mac in my bag, worth 1k, even used. Take my wallet–”

“I don’t need your money,” he insists, “now take it and put it on like a good girl.”

You tremble and peer around again. The buzzing of crickets and unseen critter of night creatures surrounds the car. You can barely see the bark of the tree closest to you. You take the cloth and feel it, a string connecting it in a circle. A blindfold, you realise.

“I– I can’t see anything, why–”

“Put it on, honey,” he coaxes as he steers on, “and if you keep mouthing off, I’ll have to do something about that too.”

You swallow. You might have been a bit blunt, but you weren’t rude. You don’t understand what he’s doing or why. You lift the blindfold and slip it over your head, an unbidden whimper rising as you pull it over your eyes. The blackness is frightening.

“Sir,” your voice quavers as the tires mulch across the ground, “I’m sorry if– I said something but–”

“You northern folk all got that lip, I heard it all before,” he interrupts you, “but not all your women look so fine as you. Fine enough I can handle the sass.”

You shudder and cross your arms. You grit your teeth and still your quivering. Fucking redneck. Creep. You put your chin down and steady your breath. Men. A swell off rage underlines the dread. It’s like Mr. Hansen and his wandering hands. At least that got you a promotion.

“Now,” he draws to a stop, “I just need you to do everything I say. Can you do that for me, honey?”

You don’t speak. You exhale and grab the door, pulling the handle. It snaps back without budging. Locked. He snickers and clucks.

“Honey, honey, honey,” his fingers tap, “that’s not what I wanted you to do.”

You could sob, scream in frustration. Why was it so hard just to live? Just to do your goddamn job? If it wasn’t some perverted manager it was this southern loser.

The driver’s door opens and you peek out under the edge of the blindfold, tilting your head. You lay back and turn, pulling your feet up as he comes to the back door. You listen as he pulls the handle from the outside and you kick. He catches your ankles, your heels slipping off and he sits on the seat heavily.

He shoves your legs down and hauls you up by your elbow. He slams the door on his other side as he wraps a thick arm around your neck. He holds you close as his oaky scent tickles your nose.

“I don’t wanna rush ya too much, let’s get to know each other first,” he brings his fingers up to pet your chin, a hint of alcohol laced in his breath, “I got a wife. She’s… a whore. She fucks everyone but me.”

You frown and try to wriggle free of his grasp. He’s strong. Very strong.

“I know, hard to believe, but you know women these days. They get a few compliments online and suddenly they got no fucking morals,” he snarls as he clutches your chin tightly, “what about you, your husband fuck you?”

You bite down. No words.

“When’s the last time, hm? If I had a thing like you at home, mmm, I would…” he trails his hand down past his arm and brushes the front of your jacket, slipping beneath to grope you through your blouse, “well, I’d do everything I’m about to do.”

His tone chills you. Your veins surge with ice and you hold your breath. You hide behind the black fabric, suddenly grateful for the barrier. You can’t help the visions of Mr. Hansen’s smirk, his hand on your ass as you walk him through your reports. The solid shape of his chest under your stomach as you grunt, soles slipping on the smooth office floor.

“Come on and lay back, honey,” he leans into you as he turns you to lay on the seat. “That’s it.”

You turn your face away as he lowers himself with you. His lips meet your cheek and he grabs your jaw to turn your head straight. “Now, I’m a gentleman, so long as you’re a lady.”

He presses his lips to yours. Your insides churn as his tongue glides along your mouth, poking inside. You growl and bite down. He retracts and yelps.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “you–”

He grabs your chin again and pushes your head down against the leather. He lifts himself, his weight painfully resting on your jaw as he adjusts himself, lifting his knees around you. He sets them down between yours, crushing your legs until the part. Your skirt rides up as he shifts, rocking the car as he puffs out.

He shoves his other hand up your skirt. As he meets the front of your satin panties, you wince. He tisks as he rubs along the smooth fabric.

“Ah, you expecting me? Or someone else?”

Your chest rise as you jut your chin out. Your body vibrates. Just fucking do it.

He forces his hand under you and grasps the back of your panties. He tears them down so they stretch between your thighs and urges your legs up. He hooks his arm under your knee and raises it higher. He leans against the strained satin, keeping you splayed as he plants his hand next to your head.

He grumbles as he struggles with the front of his pants. You ball your fists and keep them at your sides. The helplessness shrinks around you, the darkness closing in on you. He huffs and pushes your skirt up to your pelvis. You suck in another breath as he taps his dick against you, his tip slapping against your cunt.

He pushes between your folds, dragging up and down, “mmm, you ready for me, honey. Your husband’s a foolish man lettin’ you run around like this–”

You shudder into a growl as he teases you with his bulbous head. He’s thick, you can already feel it. He prods you, the pressure dull in your bones as he breathes through his nose and dips into you. Your walls are tight, resistant to his intrusion as your toes curl and every muscle knots. He sniffs and thrusts, forcing another inch.

He snarls, “fuckin’ tight—” he jerks his pelvis,”loosen up a bit–” he bucks again, his thick dick sends a pang up your spine. “Just a little more–”

He slams into you and you cry out. You hit the seat with your fist as his stomach brushes against you. He’s a fat fuck. Of course his wife doesn’t want to fuck him. He ruts again and you hold back the next whine. He’s fucking big though. It fucking hurts.

He rocks into you, your feet over his shoulders as he groans. You gulp down each noise that tickles in your throat. He drones on, panting as he fucks you harder and harder.

He stops and sits back on his bent legs. He holds onto your ankles, keeping your legs in the air as he rolls his hips. He slaps against your thighs as he loses himself in a frantic motion, hammering as his voice rumbles around the taxi’s cab, louder and louder.

“Fuck, honey, this is some fine pussy,” he purrs, “and I thought all you whores was the same. Fuck.”

You grit out a growl and throw your arm up to grip the back of the seat. He buries himself to his limit and yours, over and over, until you can’t stand it. Your legs thrum with a heavy pain and your back radiates hotly. You exclaim, wailing as he unleashes his fury on you.

“Yeah,” he pounds against you as he pushes your legs higher, the back of your thighs pulling tight, “yeah, you’re fucking sweet, ain’t ya? You gonna go back to that fancy hotel and think of this— think of me splitting you like a log–”

“Shut— upp—-” you gasp out as you drape your arm over your face, “shut—ahhhhhhh.”

He falls over you again, slapping his hand against the door above your head as his rhythm grows erratic. He rests his forehead against yours and snarls loudly as he empties into you, pelvis cracking against yours as he quakes.

He rams himself as deep as he can, sliding back with a long stroke and back in. Slowing as he fucks his cum in and out of you. His load drips out of your sickeningly and you resist a gag. His stomach is flush to your as he crushes you, coming to a stop as he stays sheathed in your burning cunt.

“I hope ya don’t get into too much trouble bein’ late and all,” he taunts and wiggles his hips until you flinch, “you can tell ‘em I got a bit lost.”

#lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #the devil all the time #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #one shot #but I'm open to maybe doing add ons for other characters mentioned...#navy and roo's sleepover #writer warmup

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after-witch · 3 years

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Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit.

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who��d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend?

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave. You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off.

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right?

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful. He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Job interview (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Landry Olsen goes to speak to the Head of the Diagnostic Team in hopes of working in Ethan Ramsey's team.

Warnings: None

A/N: Just Landry being Landry. And my two idiots being in love - this time with actual words being said. Also, Ethan being protective and proud - you know, like a husband.

Landry Olsen walked the halls of Bloom Edenbrook with his head held high. After two years of being gone, he felt a familiar feeling of pride at the sight of rooms and staff, no matter how many changes have taken place.

The news of a job opening in the Diagnostic Team flooded the medical community, reaching the doctors of Solomon Kenmore. In particular, Landry Olsen. It was like his dream came true once more, like he got a second chance at this.

Since his residency ended, he knew for sure that Claire’s residency was over too. For an opening in the team to happen now? It couldn’t have been a coincidence – she must have packed her bags and left, leaving a space for him to fill. Leaving him a chance to finally work by Ethan Ramsey’s side and prove to him that he was a better doctor between him and his former friend.

That’s what brought him to Edenbrook. He didn’t think to check, so blinded with his pride that he strutted to the nurse’s station, asked where the new DT office was and, as soon as he got the confirmation that the head of the team was in, walked towards the place that would grant him a new start for his career.

He straightened his shirt, shaking in anticipation to see his medical hero, sitting behind the desk, waiting for him to give him his resume – waiting for Landry to join the team, like he should have done two years ago.

A screeching sound of an alarm blared in his ears when he stepped through the door and casted his gaze onto the figure sitting behind the desk. They were hunched over a chart, drumming the pencil against the smooth surface under their palm. Their coat was draped over the back of the chair they were sitting on, completely in their element – like they owned the place.

At the sound of the steps, they spoke up. “Ethan, babe, you’re early, you said you’d be here in ten minutes- “ Claire lifted her gaze from the lines of patient information and moved it towards the person standing two meters from her. “Oh.”

They stared at each other in silence, neither sure what to do. Landry’s brain didn’t register the term of endearment she used in regards to Ethan Ramsey, too shocked by seeing her in the room to notice the additional information.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He managed to spit out, shaking himself off mentally. She raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you expect to see? You knew I was in the team, Landry.”

“I heard about an opening in the team, and since our residencies are over, I figured that… you’d leave.” He explained, shrugging as though his line of thought was the sanest thing in the world. Claire nodded slowly, sending him a strange look.

“I see. And, well, as you can see, that’s not the case. As a matter of fact-“

“That’s the last time I let you choose our lunch option, Claire. The traffic could not have been worse.” Ethan’s voice interrupted her as he walked into the room. At the sight of a faintly familiar face, he stopped in his tracks. Only for a moment, though, because he resumed his stride pretty much immediately, joining Claire behind her desk, their food in hand. He put the boxes down, then kissed her forehead warmly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. Besides, why couldn’t you just order? They would have delivered it, no problem.” She grinned, leaning back in her seat.

“No problem, huh? I’ll remind you of how much it’s not a problem the next time you want those cookies that they do not deliver.” He nodded towards the smaller bag on the side. She gasped, touching her chest theatrically.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

“As I love you.” Ethan replied without missing a beat, his eyes softening as he smiled at his girlfriend.

At that moment, Landry Olsen cleared his throat. The couple looked at him at once, as though they only now remembered that they had company – neither embarrassed by the situation, though.

“Right.” Claire cleared her throat, turning in her seat to face him again. “As I was saying, I didn’t leave.”

“If you didn’t leave, then who did?” Landry asked, confused beyond measure. The next words wrecked his world and he felt ground slipping from under his perfect little vision of his future.

“I did.” Ethan spoke up, leaning against the desk. He nudged Claire’s arm with his knee, winking at her, both smiling.

“So… who’s the team leader now?” He stuttered, not for the first time in the past ten minutes, unable to understand what was happening.

“I am.” Claire raised her chin confidently, her posture straightening. “So, if you still want to discuss the opening in the team with its leader, that would be me.”

Olsen looked between the couple, the reality of their relationship suddenly catching up to him. The kiss, the love confession, their closeness – all like a slap to the face, all confirming what he already knew years ago.

“I… you two- but I- “

“I don’t think he’s a good fit, if I’m being honest.” Ethan shared his opinion, turning towards her. “You’re the boss here, so the decision is yours, but he doesn’t look like he’d be able to get much done. Well.” He gave the younger doctor a dirty look, well aware of what he’s done in the past. “Maybe except for sabotaging his coworkers.”

Landry paled. He wanted to run but his body froze, and he couldn’t move a finger. Memories of the conversation he had with Claire when she realized what he’s been doing came back to him immediately. He still stood by his point – a resident leading a team? In what universe would that be happening? He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

Ethan smirked at the sight, shaking his head at the younger man. He turned towards Claire and dropped his voice to a mutter. “I’ll wait for you in my office.” With a kiss to her cheek, he gathered their food and moved towards the door.

“You gave her the team because you’re sleeping with her?” Landry finally spit out, his voice pitchy and cracked. Ethan stopped immediately, turning around to reveal the stone-cold look on his face.

“I invite you to say it again and make an even bigger idiot out of yourself.” If looks could kill, Landry Olsen would be a pile of ash from how fiery Ethan Ramsey’s gaze was. “Go on, say that again.” When no other words were said, he scoffed. “That’s what I thought. You have nothing going for yourself, so you resort to bringing others down to hide your own incompetence. Truly touching. Now do us both a favor and go back to the place you came from so I can enjoy my lunch break with my girlfriend in peace.”

He glanced at Claire, his expression melting into a tender smile. “Come to my office once you’re done here.” She nodded, a barely visible gesture. He turned around, leaving the room without sparing Landry another look.

She stared at her former friend for a long minute, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, she sighed, deciding to take the high road. “Would you like some water?”

Landry shook his head, taking a step back. He apologized after what felt like forever, then bid her goodbye and began to leave the office. He ran into Tobias and Harper, dropping his gaze to the ground when he passed them by to avoid embarrassing himself any further. The last thing he heard before he got too far away was Tobias’s taunting voice.

“Aw, man, Ramsey said it would get good. We always miss the fun, Harps.” He nudged Harper with his elbow, both of them laughing. Claire joined in, standing up and reaching for her sweater.

“We come here to spend out lunch break with the boss and the boss is leaving?” Harper teased her playfully, knowing damn well where Claire was going. The blonde shrugged innocently.

“Sorry, guys, my boyfriend just destroyed the guy that sabotaged me two years ago. He earned some kisses at the very least.” She walked backwards, grinning. “Not to mention that he has my food. See you in a bit!”

Harper giggled at their dynamic, her shoulders shaking as Tobias reached for a piece of paper, formed the ball and then threw it at Claire. “Lock the door when you get there!”

Notes

Claire: “Would you like some water?”

Perrie: “For your newly obtained burns?”

I’ve wanted to write some Landry-being-roasted fic again for a while now, and this just jumped at me today. A splitsecond decision was made and here we are.

Long story short, I have absolutely no time to write, but I write anyway. I’m probably gonna die because of this, so it’s been fun guys <3

Jk, but not really. I’m probably going to be gone for a while because of my finals. I’ll be back as soon as possible, and in the meantime, I’m going to be here, reading and praising our Queens for giving us the content we need after OH ended.

Thank you so much for being here with me for the entirety of the OH journey, having you here means more than I can express.

See you on the other side of the war. Literally.

Love you guys so much, thank you for reading <3

Tagging separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices #ethan x mc

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Temporary Home: Chapter 5

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Looks like things might be starting to get better between Reader and the rest of the team. However, Rocket can't bring himself to like you just yet, he's not the most trusting.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Thank you to @colormeyondublue, @theambracer88, and @condy-wants-a-cookie for participating in Fic Improv suggestions!

Word Count: 4,695

You didn't return for several hours, long enough for it to start to get dark out and for the others to start to wonder if you'd come back at all.

Gamora was about to suggest she and Peter go looking for you when you came in the back door. The blood from your face was now gone, but remanent drops still stained the front of your shirt.

You were surprised to find everyone in the kitchen as if they had been waiting up for you.

"Where have you been?" asked Gamora. Her voice didn't sound accusatory, despite her hands on her hips. She sounded oddly worried.

"Taking a walk?" you say with a raised eyebrow. You hadn't honestly expected anyone to be worried with your absence. After all, you bit their friend.

"You were gone for six hours!" Kraglin said incredulously. "Who takes a walk for six hours?"

You shrugged. "Took a nap, too. Why are you all looking at me like that?"

Most of them were looking at you like worried parents, except for Yondu who was leaning against the counter looking at his nails disinterested, Drax who looked mildly disapproving, and Rocket who wasn't even facing you, looking like he didn't give one solitary shit if you came back or not.

"Because you were gone for six hours." Drax repeated. "We thought you died."

"You thought I- No. Look, I just went for a walk- like you 'suggested'-" you looked pointedly at Drax and made air quotes around the word 'suggested,' (your gesture only seemed to confuse him), "took a nap, slept the whiskey off, got cleaned up in the river... Why are you even worr- Oh. Right." You roll your eyes. "Fury would have figured something out if I didn't come back, don't you worry," you say bitterly.

Peter grimaced and stood. "No, that's not- Alright. We got off on a bad foot here. We-" He looked at Rocket to try and include in the contrition, "-feel bad about how things have gone, and we just want to talk."

You look at them a moment, considering. "Okay."

"Okay." Peter looked relieved. "First off, we're sorry that we haven't made the best housemates. We're a dysfunctional bunch of dicks, we get it."

"Some of you more than others." you say, looking at Rocket.

"Yes," Peter agreed, also looking at Rocket. "and we're sorry. We've been in your personal space, and it's obviously been tough for you and we haven't helped that and we understand if you want us to leave. We're sure NOVA will understand."

You stare off into a blank space of wall for awhile. "No," you eventually say with a sigh. "You don't have to leave. It's not entirely your fault things have been tense. I can admit I've been a little... less than welcoming." Your eyes drift to the ceiling and you cross your arms. "I shouldn't be taking my frustration with what Fury did out on you." You finally look at Peter. "And I'm sorry I bit you," you say shyly, feeling your cheeks grow warm.

"It's ok. I've had worse. You didn't even break the skin." Peter said, before wincing, "I'm sorry I broke your nose."

"I don't think it's broken, actually. Hurt like a bitch, but somehow not broken."

Peter looked relieved. "That's good- That's it's not broken, I mean."

"I'm sorry I made you leave your house." Drax spoke up. "Gamora told me that wasn't a good thing to do."

"It's fine." You shrug. "I mean, don't make a habit of it... but no hard feelings." Honestly you knew you needed that walk, both to sort you out, and to try and sober up. Again, you bit a guy. Know who does that? Crazy drunk people. You were lucky one of his friends didn't clock you for it.

Drax beamed and approached you, "Great! Then we are friends!" Your eyes widen as he reaches out and pulls you into a bear hug and actually lifts you off the ground. You let out a wheeze as he squeezed the air from your lungs and you thought you felt a couple vertebra in your spine crack.

When he sets you back down you stumble back a bit, caught off guard. "Sure," you say breathlessly, almost laughing as you regained your bearings. 'Well, at least this one doesn't seem to hold grudges,' you assume.

You were wrong, but of course you didn't actually know Drax that well to know that if you had actually hurt someone he cared about, that he would have chased you across the galaxy to have his revenge. Good thing you hadn't had to figure that out.

"So you're not mad at us?" Mantis said hopefully. She was hugging the bear you gave her, little Groot perched on her shoulder, and your face softened. Her expression was just so... hopeful? Like she really needed to hear that you weren't mad and that she hadn't lost a friend. Innocent. That's the word you were looking for. She just looked too damn innocent, and it melted your heart against your consent.

"No s-" you caught yourself before you could call her 'sweetie.' "No, I'm not mad at you." You mentally whipped yourself. What the fuck? What did you think you were doing almost calling her 'sweetie'? Getting attached or some shit? Some of that whiskey must still be in your system.

She claps her hands excitedly, somehow not dropping the bear in the process, and you can just tell she's going to hug you too. Your eyes flick to Peter in a silent cry for help as she bolts up from her chair, and he just gives you a knowing look and a chuckle as if to say, "You should have guessed that would happen," right before Mantis's body crashes into yours.

You stumble back but don't fall, and awkwardly pat her on the back and letting out half a laugh as Groot crawled on top of your head. "Alright, ok. Settle down now," you say, pulling him from your hair and gently handing him back to Mantis.

Yondu watched in amusement. He was sure he heard you almost call her 'sweetie,' and combined with what he had seen how you treated them so far, and having also been told by Mantis about the bear (because she told everyone) and he saw Groot playing with the toy car that could have only came from you, it only confirmed to him that you seemed to have a soft spot for her and the twig.

"Well if everyone's apologizing, where's mine?" Rocket asked, standing defiantly on the table with his arms crossed.

Kraglin looked at him incredulously. "For what?"

"She tossed me out the door like a rag doll yesterday!" Rocket threw his hands in the air, as if Kraglin was missing something very obvious.

You huffed a laugh out your nose. "No. Absolutely not. For one, I'm not sorry, and secondly, did you really think I'd forget that you tried to poison me earlier today?"

Rocket got several looks for that, ranging from surprise to disapproval. Even Yondu raised an eyebrow.

"Rocket!" Gamora and Drax said in unison.

Rocket put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't actually trying to poison you! You wouldn't have died or nuttin!"

Peter then explained the situation from earlier that day with the xanti-berries to the others and how Rocket had tried to convince you to eat them, which earned more disapproving looks directed towards Rocket. It was well known among most of them what they did to the Terran digestion. Yondu and Kraglin made that unfortunate discovery early on when they fed them to Peter as a boy, a mistake you don't exactly make twice and a memory Kraglin wished he could have scrubbed from his mind with the same solvents he had been tasked with cleaning Yondu's M-ship bathroom with after said mistake. The rest of the team found out in a much, much cleaner way, having simply been told by Peter when offered some that Terrans couldn't eat them.

Yondu finally spoke up. "If anyone here actually needs to apologize I think it's Rocket."

Rocket looked at him in betrayal, his expression saying, 'Man, I thought we were cool!?' His tail twitched in annoyance. Yondu was supposed to be on his side, not yours,

"Don't give me that look," Yondu said. "Ya know ya've spent nearly all yer time here being a dick, not to mention its yer fault we're here in the first place."

Rocket rolled his eyes and hopped off the table with a, "Whatever losers." and walked out of the room, flipping the bird as he went.

"Rocket!" Gamora called out angrily, but Peter put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Let him go."

After a beat you begin awkwardly edging yourself out of the room as well, saying, "Well, this was awkward. Glad we made up. I'm gonna go wash up for bed. Bye."

They didn't stop you. You had reached an understanding, that would have to do for now. Peter and Gamora knew you all wouldn't just become best friends after one heart-to-heart. At the moment reaching the knowledge of 'Your host doesn't actually wish to burn you all alive' would have to do.

***

You honestly expected the next day to be just as tense, but you were pleasantly surprised. You actually managed to strike up a decent, albeit short, conversation with Peter and Gamora at breakfast.

When you finished you excused yourself to go tend to the garden, but nothing could have prepared you for what you found outside.

You exited the back door, and just before you could put in your earbuds you heard the sounds of bickering. Confused and mildly irritated at the thought of needing to break up yet another fight, you turn your head to the left, where the noise was coming from.

You cocked your head, eyebrow raised. You rubbed your eyes just to make sure you weren't seeing things.

Different emotions overtook you. Confusion. Shock. Disbelief. Then, finally, humor.

Your mouth twitched upwards of its own volition, and your stomach muscles twitched as a huff air forced its way through your nose.

Were you honestly seeing... what you thought you were seeing?

A few meters ahead of you laid Kraglin and Rocket, struggling against what appeared to be your garden hose. What was threatening to pull laughter from your belly, however, was the position they had somehow managed to get themselves into.

You'll never know how they did it, but one of Kraglin's legs was stuck in a sitting position, held in place by the hose wrapped around his thigh. He had one arm pinned behind his back, and another tied to his head with said hose.

That might have done it by itself, but that wasn't all. Rocket was tangled as well, but it was where he was tangled that made you lose your composure.

Rocket's limbs also pinned in crazy directions, but he wasn't tangled separately from Kraglin, no. Rocket was more or less strapped to Kraglin's back, but in a way that his head had nowhere to go but... well... Kraglin's butt.

You attempted to walk towards them, knowing you should probably help them, but once you opened your mouth about halfway there you knew there was no way to hold back your laughter, though you did try.

"What- Ha-How-" You pause briefly to attempt to hold in your giggles before trying again. "How did you-?" More giggling. "How did you-" Even more giggles, "manage that?" You covered your mouth, unable to stop the torrent of giggles that only got worse once they turned their heads in shock and embarrassment to face you. "You- You? What?" You could barely string words together now.

"Oh come now! It's not funny!" Kraglin pouted. Rocket just growled in annoyance.

"I-I'm sorry!" you say, not looking very sorry at all with the way mirthful tears wet your waterline and how you held your stomach from laughing so hard.

Then Rocket threatened to bite Kraglin's ass if he didn't figure out a way to untangle them, and Kraglin threatened to fart on him if he so much as thought of biting him.

That made you completely lose it. You dropped to your knees and laughed harder than you had in a very long time, unable to string anything longer than a mirthful "I'm sorry!" together to save your own life, let alone help untangle them.

Peter and Gamora heard your loud laughter from inside the kitchen, and having not heard anything more than a sarcastic half-laugh from you the entire time they'd been here, wanted to see what had been able to make you lose it like that.

They came outside to see you on your knees in the throws of a laughing fit almost a couple meters from where Kraglin and Rocket lay tangled together.

The scene made them laugh as well. Well, Peter laughed. Gamora was able to keep it to a wide grin and a couple escaped giggles as she mercifully walked over to help untie the pair, with Peter's giggly attempts to help as well, that were actually more of a hinderance than helpful.

At one point you thought you had gotten it together enough to try and help them, but you didn't make it all the way before your laughing fit had you doubled over again. You losing it again only made Peter laugh harder, and Gamora only grinned and shook her head as she worked at trying to free Kraglin's arm from his head, having already managed to free his leg from its garden-hose-y prison.

"Ow! Ow! Fuck!" You exclaim, still laughing. "I think I pulled something!"

Peter looked at you then turned to Kraglin & Rocket and laughed more, pointing, "You made her laugh so hard she pulled a muscle! AHAHA!"

By this point Gamora had (more or less single-handedly) managed to free Rocket from Kraglin and Kraglin was free enough to untangle himself the rest of the way.

Rocket glared at you angrily, "I'll teach you to laugh at me!" He looked like he was about to lunge at you when Gamora scolded out a warning, "Rocket." and he then just muttered angrily and made his way back inside the house.

You had gotten your laughter in to more manageable giggles, until you looked up to see Kraglin had just finished untangling himself and was walking your way before your burst into laughter again. "AHA-Ow! Ow! Haha! I'm sorry- Haha-ow! I'm sorry!" you manage to say as Kraglin pouted and continued on towards the door, his pride a bit bruised. You thought you had pulled something in your ribs, and it made laughing too hard a little sore, but you honestly couldn't help it.

You worked on catching your breath and Peter asked, giggling, "How did they even do that?"

You took deep breaths and answered, "I have no idea." You turned your head towards Kraglin walking away and started laughing again, needing to turn away because it hurt to laugh. Peter and Gamora shook their heads, grinning.

This was definitely better than you being cranky and avoiding them all the time, now if only it would last.

You stated you needed to tend the garden and they took the hint to leave you so you could gather yourself.

Peter couldn't help but think that if you pulled a muscle from laughing, it must mean you didn't do it nearly enough, and he made a mental note to try and fix that while they were there.

***

You headed to the work shed after tending your garden, intent to unclamp and sand down the pieces of the bed you were making for Rocket.

You had almost considered scrapping the project after the whole "attempted poison" incident, but you were in a good mood, and still thought it might quell his whining, so you decided you might as well finish it.

Once everything was sanded to a nice finish you decided you might as well stain it too, and add a coat of varnish. Might as well do a complete job while you were at it.

Or maybe you were stalling.

Either way, you decided you needed to make a run into town. It had been awhile since you checked the mail anyhow.

You locked the shed back up and went inside to get ready to leave.

Before you were about to go, you caught Peter in the hall and told him you were leaving, and as a courtesy asked him if he knew if there might be anything anyone might need from town.

He thought for a bit, not really able to think of anything, one reason being that he didn't know what Terran shops carried anymore that his friends would recognize, let alone need, but then an idea struck. "Hey, do they still make Oreos? If you don't mind- I always kinda wanted to show the others what they were like. They were one of my favorites as a kid."

You smile. Of all the things he could have asked for, and this grown man wanted oreos to share with his friends. It was sweet. "I'll see what I can do," you say, still smiling as you made your way out the door.

***

For the life of him, Rocket couldn't understand why Groot seemed to like it here.

It was boring. Despite all this space, he couldn't blow up anything, and he had been forbidden by the others to try. Something about Terran shit being "extra flammable" or something. Not like he had anything that could make a decent boom if he tried, it had all been confiscated by SHIELD, the bastards. They'd even searched his "back pocket."

To be fair, his reputation had preceded him and they did find some small blast charges and a detonator...

Normally he'd use his resources, pull from the environment around him, but you only had primitive Terran shit that wasn't good for anything fun.

It was like he was being punished, stuck on this Terran prison. Normally he'd just escape a prison, like he had the last 23 he had been in, but this time apparently it was 'safer' to stay in the prison than to leave. As if he even could leave without a ship...

What had he done to deserve this punishment?

Sure, maybe he had insulted their last client... and maybe he had stolen their shit... but they deserved it for being so damn uptight and upitty. Everyone else was thinking it, he was just the only one brave enough to put them in their place!

And look where it got him. Stuck here. In the middle of nowhere, on a primitive hunk of rock floating in the middle of nowhere, with nothing fun to do or see, forced to sleep in a damn crib like an infant. He almost wished Peter hadn't told him what it was that first night. He originally just thought it was a weird fancy little bed, until Peter peeked in and quietly chuckled a comment about, "Aww! Cute! You get to sleep in a crib like a little baby!" Which then prompted him to complain to the SHIELD woman about the sleeping arrangement, but he only got a shrug from her in response as she said stuff about being "crunched for time" and it was "the perfect size" while his friends laughed at him.

And then there was you. As far as he was concerned you were just as bad as their last client. Stick up your ass, skulking around and tossing him out for fighting like you owned the place...

Well, he supposed you did own the place... bit still! Who did you think you were?

Anyone dumber might answer, 'the person who was nice enough to take in eight strangers to keep them safe,' but he knew better. No one was that good. You were either getting paid a shit-tonne to do this, or you had sinister intentions, and any trace of caring was just an act. Maybe both, who was he to say?

"I am Groot?"

Rocket was shaken from his thoughts by Groot's question.

"What?" asked Rocket.

"I am Groot?" he asked again.

"Wha- No. There's no monsters in the attic- who told you that? We would have heard them!" he then quickly added, "Monsters don't exist anyway!"

"I am Groot."

Rocket rolled his eyes. "Ohhh- Of course she would." He could feel his irritation rising. Who the fuck did you think you were, scaring the little guy like that? He looked at Groot and told him you were just being a dick, and he was going to show Groot himself that you were a liar.

"I am Groot!"

Rocket rolled eyes again. "So what if it's locked? I've got my-" He then remembered that his lock-picking set had also been confiscated. Dammit! "I bet there's a key somewhere!"

"I am Groot!"

"We won't get in trouble if you keep quiet about it!" Rocket said irritably. Groot simply crossed his arms in response, a displeased expression on his face.

He placed Groot on his shoulder, and they made their way silently from their room, around the landing, and peered down the stairs before making their way over to open your door. He knew the others wouldn't approve of what he was doing, and he was grateful that he and Groot seemed to be the only ones upstairs at the moment. Well, that was assuming that no one was behind the closed doors of the other two rooms and they wouldn't find Mantis sitting in the room you shared with her.

The room was empty. Good. He wouldn't have to hear anyone complain about what he was doing, although he was certain if Mantis had been in there he could have played it off as Groot wanting to play more hide-n-seek.

Rocket knew you had left the house, otherwise he might not be attempting to do what he was, not looking forward to you possibly tossing him back outside for another 'walk,' or more or less a glorified time out like he was a child. Bad enough he had to sleep in the crib...

However, he knew he should probably be quick about it. You had already been gone nearly a couple hours, and while he didn't know how far away the place you were going was, he knew he should just assume you'd be back any minute.

He paused to listen, he had good enough hearing that he could hear just about any regular movement in the house if he was listening for it. After not hearing anything that sounded like someone getting ready to come up the stairs he got to work.

As quietly and as quickly as he could, he made his way around the room. He had a decent idea of which bed belonged to Mantis and so he didn't bother looking over there.

He checked in your nightstand drawers. Nothing. Just a journal he considered taking a peek at, but decided against it due to being crunched for time.

He checked though your dresser drawers, and aside from one large garment that appeared like a comfy jumpsuit but looked like someone skinned some weird black and white spotted mammal, found nothing but your clothes and under-things.

He finally got around to checking the desk. There was nothing on top save for some pens, a notepad, and what Terrans excused for a computer- a 'lap top' or whatever they called it. He pulled out the bottom drawer from the set of three on the right side, but it was only a bunch of file folders, again, none of which he could be bothered to fully read, only gathering cursory glances of boring titles with stuff like "Insurance," "Deed," and "Obituary," whatever that was.

He quickly abandoned that drawer and moved to the next one up. Still nothing. Just pencils and a book of drawings he quickly flipped through before placing back in the drawer, unwilling to give you even the imaginary satisfaction of even mentally saying they weren't half bad. He gave Groot an unimpressed look when he expressed interest in the pictures.

He reached the top drawer and almost wrote it off as a loss of pens, paperclips, sticky notes and other junk, until he just noticed a glint of metal from under one of the yellow pads of paper.

Jackpot.

He grabbed the key and grinned at Groot before turning towards the attic door.

But then he heard it. The front door opened.

Maybe someone's just going outside? Maybe he still had time?

Nope, the footsteps were coming in, not leaving.

Crap. You were home.

He knew it would only be bad news if he got caught, so he quickly placed the key back in the drawer, saying, "Another time, buddy," to Groot and made his way to peek out the door and make sure he wouldn't be seen exiting your room.

He could just see down the stairs that you were standing in the hall holding a paper bag, and you waved for someone's attention in the sitting room. Peter came and he followed you into the kitchen.

This was his chance, he quickly exited your room, quietly closed the door behind him, and bolted as quietly as possible toward the room he shared with Groot and Drax. It was times like these he was more than glad to be one of the smallest and lightest of the bunch.

***

You arrived home and brought Peter into the kitchen to show that you had indeed found him some Oreos, and a twin sleeve at that!

His eyes lit up when you removed them from the bag. "You got them!" he exclaimed as he accepted the package from you.

You lightly chuckled as he called for his friends to join him in the kitchen.

Feeling it would be awkward for you if he decided to excitedly declare that you bought them biscuits, you excused yourself before the others could arrive, saying that you had some other things to put away in your car and you'd be back when he seemed almost disappointed that you were running away from being social again.

You passed by Kraglin and Yondu on your way back towards the front door, and you were unable to stop yourself from giggling as you laid eyes on Kraglin. You covered your mouth, but of course they noticed.

"What was that about?" Yondu asked Kraglin in confusion, looking back at you as you exited the front door.

Kraglin only pouted and said, "Please don't ask, sir."

***

Rocket answered Peter's call along with everyone else, and was a little surprised to hear that you had picked up some Terran cookies at Peter's request. He ate some, because hey- free food, but he wasn't going to fall for your sugary bribery, which he was sure this was. He certainly doubted you did it to be nice. Hell, if you were nice you would have helped him and Kraglin with getting untangled instead of laughing so hard you couldn't stand up.

Something caught his eye out the window from where he sat on the counter, and he directed his attention to what he realized was you, walking toward that shed he kept hearing loud noses from but couldn't get into because you kept it locked. The windows didn't open either, he tried, nor could he make anything out when he tried to look through them due to the dark interior.

But there was one thing he could see clearly now as you made your way to the shed.

You were carrying chains.

His eyes narrowed as he nibbled on his treat. He knew there was something off about you. What were you doing in that shed? Were those chains meant for him and his friends? To chain up the next person who pissed you off?

He knew the others wouldn't believe him. Until he could prove it to the others that you were bad news, he decided to keep his mouth shut for now.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #x reader #peter quill #kraglin obfonteri #rocket racoon and groot #rocket raccoon #star lord #yondu udonta #fluff #room mates #making up

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just-someone-who-likes-to-write · 3 years

Text

Prince Nuada x Angel!Reader (P.3)

(Requested by @blackwoodwinter : Hello! Could i request a story of reader x prince nuada, where the reader is naturally born human with powers & mutations that make her look like an angel. She also works in the BPRD alongside Red and Abe and when she first meets Nuada he mistakes her for a mythical creature, initially not liking her of betraying mythical creatures for humans, but she clearfies she is technically human and shows him little by little there is still good in humanity.)

Warning: None I guess.

Word Count: 2,888

Part1 Part2

It has been weeks since the resurrection incident, (Y/n) had recovered and has rejoined the investigation for the Gargoyle. During the said investigation, Nuada has been keeping an eye on the little human angel, which surprised some because he always showed nothing but disgust towards her and now he will not leave her side unless she expressed wanting to be alone. Of course, he was subtle about it, only those who knew him well enough noticed such actions. Hellboy didn't like the sudden interest the elf prince had in (Y/n), Abraham was between being hopeful that Nuada accepted her as a friend and worried that he was up to something, Liz and Nuala on the other hand had a pretty good picture on what was possibly happening but said nothing only acted when Hellboy needed someone to hold him back or poor Abraham who needed reassurance that everything is fine.

However, unlike what the girls were thinking, Nuada wasn't staying close to (Y/n) because he had feelings for her, but rather was intrigued by her and wanting to know what else she is able to do.

"Can you fly with them?" He asked one day when he caught her stretching her wings, his eyes mesmerized by the feathers that shone against the light.

"Uh… Yeah." She replied a bit startled since she thought she was alone.

"How high can you go?" He took a few steps forward to get a better look at (Y/n)'s wings.

"Well, the highest I went like… 60 story building." You answered self-consciously. Nuada raised a brow of bewilderment.

"Only 60 story?" He repeated confused. "Forgive my bluntness, but I believed you could go higher since your wings look strong."

"I might be." You said with a shrug.

"Might be?"

"Well, I never really went any higher than 60 stories." You looked around to make sure they were alone before whispering. "I'm actually scared to go higher."

"Why is that?" Asked Nuada in bewilderment.

"I'm just afraid that something might go wrong." You answered. "What if I went too high that I can't breathe anymore and lose consciousness and fall to my death, what if my wings got tired and cramped and caused me to fall to my death, or what if I got high enough that-"

"Bunch of human hunters would mistake you for a bird and shot you down to your death?" Said Nuada with a smirk finding (Y/n)'s imagination amusing.

"No, that would be a silly thought." She retorted before continuing. "I was going to say, that I would accidentally be pulled into a plane's engine without me being able to prevent it.

Nuada looked at her with wide eyes of amazement before bursting into laughter.

"Why are you laughing!?" (Y/n) exclaimed with a bright red face, Nuada continued laughing.

Nuada agreed to keep her secret on the condition of allowing him to help her get over her fear, which she reluctantly agreed to. When the weather was clear they would go outside where she would try and fly a bit higher, she would get scared after a few meters away from what she was used to but with practice, she is getting used to it. Of course, flying isn't the only thing he was teaching her. In the training room, he would teach her hand in hand combat and that she should not just depend on her wings. One day she came forward and asked him to teach her how to fight with weapons specifically with sword…that she already has.

"Tell me again how did you obtain such a weapon." Said Nuada as he stared at the sword in her hands that he dared not to touch, for even if it was naked to the human eyes he could sense the holy aura around it.

"It was found centuries by humans who passed it from one generation to the other, then from and organization to the other until it was settling beneath the Vatican vault." She explained. "I remember that we needed further information about a monster we were after, and such information can only be found in the Vatican. It was one of my first missions outside the country, Professor Broom is the one who insisted to take me along with them in hopes that by seeing me 'An Angel' that they would be a bit lenient on us, of course, Hellboy was forbidden to go along with us, so it was just me, the professor and a few protection agents…. I remember that while the professor was looking into the documents I felt a pull towards a locked room that to this day I still don’t know how did I get into without alarming anyone, all I remember is one moment I was standing on one side watching the professor work and then suddenly I was holding the sword in my hand while Vatican security was pointing a gun at me to let the sword go."

Nuada watched her closely as she told the story, her eyes shone slightly as she stared down at her sword.

"And what convinced them to let you keep it?" Asked Nuada pulling her out of her thoughts.

"It was the Pope." She continued. "He said that the sword found its owner. I still don't understand. Of course, there were a lot who objected on letting me keep the word, but the Pope's words were final."

"Does anyone know where the sword came from?"

"They don't know exactly where, each one just said a different story." She sheathed her sword back to her side. "But the one I follow was the one Professor broom told me, That millenniums ago, in the war between Lucifer and god, that an Angel must have lost their weapon causing it to fall on earth…. I'm still skeptical about it but I think the story sounds really cool!"

Nuada just stayed silenced and nodded at her.

Everything was going well for Nuada. Manning trusted him more which allowed him more freedom to even walk outside the building unsupervised, He got to know Abraham more for his sister's sake, and even his relationship with Red become of a friendly rivalry rather than pure trust and distrust, and even humans around him started to become less tense around him, going as far as greeting him in the halls when they saw him or ask him about her day. Everything was going well…until Manning called for an emergency meeting that everyone including the paranormal agents had to be present in it.

"His name is Hugo." Said Abraham as he presented the few blurry pictures they were able to catch on the digital screen.

The moment he uttered the name Nuada could feel his blood grow cold and his heartbeat slightly rise with nervousness. He did his best not to show it. He would be lying to say that he didn't expect to hear about the gargoyle again, but part of him still hoped that the beast would follow his advice and disappear for a few centuries before striking again. The prince tried to ignore the bang of guilt he felt when remembering his first encounter with Hugo and how he let him go. His eyes looked to (Y/n) who was concentrating on whatever Abraham was saying with a serious look in her eyes while her hand rests on her sword, ready to fight. Aside from guilt now he also felt ashamed because he deceived her. The Elven prince stared back into the screen trying to mask his true feeling with a nonchalant stare.

"We found the Gargoyle Coven and asked them about if any one of their members went rouge and they confirmed that Hugo was one of them, that he spent centuries complaining about the humans and even refusing to protect them from harm when they saw them in danger." A few murmurs were filling the room but were quieted down as he continued. "They cast him out of the coven after he not only witnessed the death of an innocent human family but helped the culprit escape."

"How horrible." Said Nuala with a sorrowful look. "What kind of creature would allow such a thing."

Nuada averted his eyes with shame from his sister, looking down at his weapon which he refused to raise against the gargoyle. He was now part of such a crime because he too let the beast flee undetected.

"Listen, we still don't know what is his weakness since every book we had said that gargoyles are invisible…" Said Red earning everyone's attention. "Except against one thing and its sunlight, when it touches them they turn to stone, it still doesn't mean they are dead, they just become immobile until nightfall. So our best option is to find him, tie him down until sunrise, and when he turns to stone we break him to pieces!"

When he said the last part he slammed his stone fist against the table breaking it.

"…Oops…" He said as he took a step back.

"You know Red.." Called (Y/n). "I was really admiring your plan, that you finally said something that didn't involve shooting something down, but then you go and do this."

Her remark made the people in the room laugh or giggle, except Nuada who was trying to figure out what to do and how. Because if they did manage to catch the beast he will blurb out that he had helped him escape, which will lose him to lose everything he has now. Respect, Trust, and loyalty. The humans would probably lock him back with no hope of a second chance, his sister would look at him with disgust… and (Y/n) would never want to be near him again.

No, he needed to do something and fast.

---

"What is troubling you brother?" Asked Nuala as she entered his room.

"Nothing is troubling me." He lied skillfully.

He was in the middle of preparing for leaving with the others to look for the gargoyle. They had been informed of a large group of humans going missing around a specific area in the city so they planned to make different search parties each one lead by either Hellboy, Abraham, (Y/n), or him. His plan however was simple, slowly separate from the human group, search for a possible lead to Hugo, when he finds the Gargoyle he will convince him to leave the city. Nuala's eyes narrowed at her brother, who still has his back to her.

"I sensed how agitated you were during the meeting." She said with her arms crossed. Nuada paused for a moment before continuing his work.

"It was just the fact that I have to work with humans." He lied swiftly but Nuala didn't believe him.

"Brother…" She called timidly, he just hummed in response. "Did you do something you shouldn't have done?"

Nuala came forward to place her hand on her brother's shoulder in hopes of learning what he was hiding, but Nuada dodged her hand, which fell in mid-air. His sister froze when she saw the harsh glare he gave her.

"You are my sister, and I love you dearly… But…" He growled. "If you tried to read my mind again without permission, I'm afraid I won't be so kind."

He then turns around to leave his stunned sister in his room, her eyes wide because Nuada rarely becomes angry with her, but also because his action reminded her of when they were little, he would avoid her like the plague whenever he does something he shouldn't, like stealing pastry goods or breaking something valuable, but they were adults now and for Nuada avoiding her touch let alone give her such a glare means that whatever he was hiding was big, which makes her very worried.

"What are you doing Brother." She said to no one in the empty room.

---

Nuada was wearing a cloak to blend easily with the shadows whenever a human was about to see him. From the device, in his ear, Nuada could hear the human agents talking among themselves whether it was a casual conversation or just stating what they were seeing as suspicious, only rarely did they talk to him, and when they do it is only to ask him if he is seeing anything. He had enough when he saw that in a couple of hours they will have to go back, so Nuada told the humans that he was going to search from the buildings surface to have a better look at the dark sky to catch the Gargoyle if he was by chance flying over them. they trusted him and just told him to inform him if he saw anything so they can inform the other groups and come to help him. Nuada shook the bit of guilt he felt at the blind trust that these humans have given him, and continued jumping form a building to the other, when he deemed himself far enough he used the fire escape to go back down and go somewhere a bit more open for the Gargoyle to fly in freely. Nuada had seen how big Hugo was, not to mention the length of his wings, knowing that he would need an open place to be able to continue his kidnapping easily, Nuada had led the humans to an area that was closed, to keep them away and safe.

He was walking on the side of the road looking up to the sky and keeping his senses sharp, to any movement near him. He kept walking until he reached a park. He was outside by the high iron fences, his eyes glanced to the lack of green graces, how the ground was filled with brown spots, most of the trees were dead or dying, even the children's ground was dirty and broken. A small bush of yellow flowers caught his attention, the flowers were growing on the small space between the iron fence bars, and they were slightly beaking out in the sidewalk. He didn't know why but he wanted to at least feel the small petals of the flowers, he knelt and reached for them but before his fingertips could someone called for him.

"Don't pick the flower!" A small voice of a little girl who was running towards him.

Nuada quickly took a step back and he tugged his hood down to assure that his face wasn't visible, but he still could see the little girl who was kneeling down to inspect the flowers. She then looked up to him.

"I'm sorry for scaring your mister." Her tiny voice said politely. He just nodded in response to show that it was alright.

Nuada watched as the little girl pulled out a worn-out plastic bottle which was filled with water. She opened the cap and proceeded to pour an amount that was obviously too much for the flower to absorb, but she did know that. When the bottle was half empty she stopped, and gave a satisfied nod at her work before closing the bottle again.

"There used to be a lot of flowers, but after last summer almost all of them died because no one was there to take care of them…" The little girl explained. "So I decided that do it myself!"

She gave Nuada, who was staring at her with interest, a big proud smile at what she just said. The prince couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.

"What is your name little one?" He asked gently.

"My name is Sophie."

"Well, Sophie, I must say that what you are doing is admirable." He said sincerely. The girl titled her head.

"What does that mean?" she asked confused. He chuckled at her nativity.

"It means good." he explained as simply as he could. "What you are doing is very good."

The girl's eyes widened in realization before giggling, delighted to being praised by a stranger. He was still curious about something.

"Why are you watering them at night?" He asked.

"Oh, My mom grounded me today and I couldn't go and water them, so I sneaked out." She said as if she was caught doing something wrong… which she was.

"It is dangerous to go into the night this late you need to return home now." Nuada said in a soft yet stern manner. The Girl's smile dropped, replaced by a sad frown.

"B...But my flowers…"

"Your flowers can survive till morning and I am sure if you told your mother she will understand." He said. "But sneaking out late at night with no one knowing your location, now go home now, it's dangerous."

The little girl looked as if she was going to say something but refrained from doing so and she turned and ran away. Nuada as well turned on his heel to continue his search for the Gargoyle. However, Nuada failed to notice how the little girl stopped her track after she thought she was far enough from him, and when she saw him turn in a corner and disappear the little girl returned back to the park to tend to the rest of her flowers, disobeying the stranger's orders, believing that she will be safe enough to water a few more flowers.

Unaware of the glowing red eyes that are watching her from afar.

---

I hope all of you enjoyed this part and will look forward for more.

Reminder Requests are closed.

#prince nuada x reader #nuada x reader #hellboy the golden army #hellboy 2 the golden army

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weasleydream · 3 years

Text

i’ll never fall - Ginny x reader

I’m so so sorry that it’s so late! I wrote this for @pregnant-piggy ‘s writing challenge but I got a bit too inspired, I haven’t written that much in so long! Once again, congrats for 2k love <3

My prompts were: “Who do you see when you look at me?” ; “I will never forgive myself for the things I’ve done.” ; and “And you are sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with them?”

Also, once again I think I messed with timeline

As usual, feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist

If we were being picky, we could say that all of this began the day Tom Riddle was born. However, this specific point in the history of the wizarding world was the beginning of so many stories that no one could count them all, and mine was complicated enough without mixing them: that’s why we’re going to say that it all began the day I realized I had been manipulated.

_ _ _

It was as if nature itself knew what was coming. If the first of September was usually a bright day, the sun we had been hoping for was a long lost memory erased by the incessant rain. Somehow, even the traditional babblings on platform 9¾ were missing, replaced by parents’ doubts and students’ fears. Was really going to Hogwarts in this year of 1997 a good idea? Dumbledore’s death had been a strong hit to everyone, and now that we knew Snape would be at the head of the school, no one was reassured. Not even Molly Weasley who was usually so valiant. On the platform, with one hand on Ginny’s back and one hand on mine, she seemed as nervous as everyone else, and the fact that she couldn’t look away from Arthur for more than three seconds was the proof we didn’t need.

I remembered perfectly each first of September since I had received my Hogwarts letter. It was five years ago, and I was sure the view of the red train had never provoked such a wave of panic in me before. I glanced at Ginny; she was looking at me, her face closed in an attempt to hide what she was feeling and what she was fearing. A discreet nod confirmed what I already knew: she was as afraid as I was. Somewhere on our left, a voice said both our names, and we turned around to greet Neville. He hadn’t even needed to use a strong voice. He was pushing his cart on which his bags were stacked. On the top of the pile was sitting proudly a little plant.

“Mimbulus mimbletonia?” I asked, and he nodded quietly.

The locomotive whistled and we headed to the nearest door, after having looked away from Ginny and her parents exchanging a quick hug. Most of the compartments were empty, which seemed strange as we had never seen such a small amount of students in the train. Neville led us to the very last compartment where Luna was waiting for us. She said hello, but even her bright personality seemed altered. I really didn’t like this, and it was only the beginning.

Half an hour after the beginning of the journey, I left the compartment to find my other group of friends. Friends was maybe a big word: in fact the only one I got along pretty well with was Zillah. She was a Hufflepuff and I knew her since we were five or six. Our fathers had worked together for a while in a muggle factory when they were younger, hers because he was a muggle and mine because he and my mother had left the wizarding world when He-who-must-not-be-named had risen the first time. Zillah greeted me with a small smile, and one or two other heads looked up to me. I identified a Slytherin guy in the corner opposite to mine but that didn’t surprise me, Zillah was the kind of person that didn’t let such things as houses determine who she loved.

“You didn’t give me a lot of news,” she said when I sat next to her, which forced another girl to shift to the left.

“I know, I just… I was busy.” I looked around quickly, checking that no one was listening to us. The four other persons that were here seemed to be chatting, and only now did I realize that the atmosphere was less heavy than with Ginny, Neville and Luna. Anyways, I decided it was safe enough for me to speak. “You know, with that stuff about my parents…” I added in a lower tone.

Zillah moved closer to me.

“And? Did you find anything?”

“Nothing conclusive. I guess that’s a good sign.”

Zillah nodded and recovered her previous position. She knew what I was talking about: since a few weeks before the beginning of the summer, my main preoccupation was to find out if my parents - and the rest of my family - were or had been death eaters. A lot of old rumours had resurfaced, and my parents, along with one of my aunts and her half-brother, were suspected to belong to the dark side. I had spent the summer looking for proof, investigating, and I now thought that at least my mother wasn’t guilty of what she was accused of. I still had a doubt about my aunt’s half-brother, but we weren’t blood related, so I had decided it wasn’t my problem, and something was off with my father.

“I guess you’re relieved,” suddenly commented Zillah. “Now you’ll stop hiding it from your friends.” Indeed, Luna, Neville and even Ginny didn’t know anything about it, and it had been especially hard to hide during the last two weeks that I had spent at the burrow. Ginny obviously knew there was something off with me and had asked me about it several times, but I didn’t want her to know that, not when Neville had made some comments that had persuaded me I was suspected too. “You don’t seem relieved, though.” she added with a suspicious look. “Are you sure you didn’t find anything conclusive?”

“There’s maybe something about my father,” I mumbled, “but I don’t know what to think about it. Something he did a year or so before You-know-who’s fall that makes me think… Well, it makes me think maybe there’s a possibility that he’s killed a muggle family.”

“What?” Zillah’s voice was louder than expected, and the conversations in the compartment stopped briefly. “Why would he have done something like this?” she asked more quietly when chatters filled the compartment again. “I thought he was clean?”

“I told you I don’t know what to think about it… Something’s strange, but I don’t know what.”

Zillah nodded but stayed silent. She didn’t seem that surprised anymore, as if it was something she had been suspecting for a while. It created a big contrast between us because I was still deeply shaken by the news. Learning that your father might be the assassin of an innocent family wasn’t something you could accept easily. The conversations in the compartment stopped briefly, and I wondered why until I noticed a prefect’s head that had appeared through the glass. It was a girl from Ravenclaw, and she glanced briefly at us before walking away.

“Do you think she’s looking for You-know-who?” guffawed the Slytherin guy.

Everyone in the compartment chuckled, Zillah included. However, it wasn’t the kind of subject that made me laugh, and I suddenly felt really out of place among these people. I hastily saluted Zillah and left the compartment. I took a few steps just to be out of their sight, and then I stopped, asking myself if I really wanted to go back to Ginny, Neville and Luna. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, Ginny was the person I was the closest to in the school, but she was really friends with Luna and Neville, and she shared way more with them than with me. If Luna was kind to everyone and me included, Neville had often shown restraint with me, without mentioning the few times I had caught him becoming suddenly very silent as soon as I had stepped in the same room as him. Finally, I decided going back to their compartment was better than spending the rest of the journey standing between two glass doors.

“- sorry he was ever born. Harry said it was him who killed Dumbledore, he’s not going to get away with it that easily, trust me.”

It was Ginny who was talking, and she didn’t stop when I opened the door. She just shifted to the left to make some room for me, and I sat after having made sure that the door was well closed. Making that kind of comment in a train crowded with people whose intentions weren’t all clear could be very dangerous.

“And how do you want to proceed?” Asked Luna. “Don’t you think he’ll think some people are thinking like this?”

“We don’t care,” said Neville. “He’ll pay for what he has done.”

“If any of you has an idea, feel free to suggest it. That goes for you too, Y/N, okay?”

I nodded, but a feeling of uneasiness had invaded me. Ginny looked at me with a raised eyebrow, asking me silently what was in my mind.

“If Snape is at the head of Hogwarts… don’t you think he’ll ask other death eaters to come with him?” A silence greeted my question. “Of course it doesn’t mean I won’t help you!” I added precipitously, “Just that we should be really careful. I’m not sure we know exactly what’s coming, that’s all.”

“You’re right,” said Neville. “But death eaters or not, everyone who throws a spanner in our work is going to have to face us.”

_ _ _

No matter how hard I had tried to convince myself that Hogwarts would be extremely different from before, the sight of the castle took a severe toll on me. The atmosphere reminded me a bit of the one that had enveloped us when Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban: full of fear and Dementors in the sky and around the park. It didn’t look like the safest place on earth anymore, that was for sure.

It was in silence that all the students that were in the train joined the castle. I was next to Ginny; Neville and Luna were just behind and I could see Zillah’s head a few meters in front of us. It didn’t take a long time to realize that the fears I had expressed before were founded: at each side of the entrance door were three people, all dressed in black, with a severe expression and a very straight posture. A whisper ran through the crowd of students; were they death eaters? The answer came to us in the form of a shout from a massive man.

“Shut up and move!”

From the corner of the eye, I saw Ginny stiffening and glaring at the guy who had just yelled. She had never looked as dangerous as right now, and I knew better than to think that it was an appearance.

“Ginny!” I hissed as quietly as possible. “Stop this!”

“But he’s-”

“I know!” Of course I had recognized Amycus Carrow, who had tried his best to torture Ginny only a few months ago. If he had failed, it was just because Ginny had drunk some Felix Felicis before the battle of the Astronomy tower. “But if you don’t want them to show what they are capable of, you’ll have to keep it cool until we’re in the dorm.”

She sighed loudly and nodded. If this time I had adopted the voice of reason, it didn’t mean that I wanted to stay here longer than necessitated, so I picked up the pace to walk past the death eaters. The sigh of relief I wanted to breathe when they would be out of sight stayed blocked in my throat, though: people all dressed in black were standing at regular intervals and this, on each side of the corridor. The silence was heavier in the inside of the castle; it was as if, without being clearly told, everyone had understood that staying quiet was for the best. Only the sound of our feet on the stones could be heard, and it was in this tense atmosphere that we arrived in the Great Hall.

The four main tables were still here and still the same. It was naturally that I followed Ginny to the Gryffindor table and took place next to her; and only when Neville was sitting in front of us while Luna was joining her place did I realize that the professors’ table was way smaller than before. A few more death eaters were standing in a corner, but Snape’s presence at the exact place Dumbledore used to stand at was the reason everyone was looking in this direction without a word.

“Look at him…” murmured Neville, which caused him to deal with some terrified looks.

Snape hadn’t even pronounced anything yet that he had already terrorized half of the school. Then his voice thundered and repercuted between the naked walls and the once magical roof that was now devoid of stars and colorful banners.

“Things have changed, and they will keep changing.” He paused and his eyes wandered amongst the students. I could have sworn his gaze had stopped on us, and according to the shiver that shook the girl next to me, it wasn’t just an impression. “From now on, the school is mine, and the rules you will follow are mine. Each breach of the rules will cost you a price much higher than a few house points. Any attempt to rebel will be severely punished. I also suggest you to remain in the ranks, or else the consequences could be unfortunate.”

As soon as the echo of his voice disappeared, Snape turned heels and sat in the central seat of the table. He lifted his hand and the doors opened; a seemingly exhausted professor McGonagall was walking in front of a bunch of terrified first years, and to the sound of their steps added weak sobs. When she walked past us, McGonagall glanced quickly in our direction, and from the corner of the eye I saw Ginny nodding imperceptibly. When she finally reached the single wooden stool that had gone unnoticed until then, it was with a firm voice that she shouted the name of the first student. It was as if she was trying her best to ignore the fact that Hogwarts had become the most dangerous place for us all, or maybe to show us that we weren’t alone in this.

The dinner - because it was hard to call this a feast - was conducted expeditiously and the first students to leave the great hall didn’t stay more than twenty minutes. Almost an hour and a half after our arrival, Snape’s watch dogs forced the remaining students to leave the great hall and to join the common rooms. A frightening silence was reigning everywhere in the castle, and the cosy common room of the Gryffindor house wasn’t exception. A very few people were occupying the sofas around the chimney, there wasn’t any first year left, and most of the students following us directly took the direction of the stairs leading to the dorms. Neville saluted us quite darkly and disappeared too.

“I didn’t think it would be so… the way it is.” I whispered as Ginny and I were sitting around a table in the corner of the room. “I remember the day we first entered the great hall… All these terrified kids, it’s awful. They’ll have to pay.”

“I agree. It’s a good thing that a few members of Dumbledore's army are still here, we’ll need as much help as we can get. We’ll have to-”

Ginny suddenly stopped and jumped on her feet, glaring at some point behind my back. I got up too, on the verge of asking what was happening, but the noise that echoed gave me the answer. Amycus Carrow and a woman that looked just like him had barged in, and they were now barking on the third years that were on the sofas. When one of them muttered that they had no right to come here, the woman drew her wand and pointed it between the guy’s eyes. Completely terrified, the latter followed his friend without another word. Understanding that it was useless and dangerous to provoke them at the moment, I went around the table and grabbed Ginny’s wrist. We took the direction of the stairs and we had almost disappeared behind the stone when we both saw it. Amycus Carrow had just nodded at me with a polite smile on the lips. Ginny’s arm moved quickly and a second later, she was shutting the door between us.

_ _ _

“The Weasley girl still doesn't want to talk to you?” asked Zillah with her mouth half full of bread as I was sitting next to her.

This had become the usual greeting she gave me each morning since I had camped in front of the Hufflepuff common room’s door, just after this thing with Amycus two weeks ago. Ginny had refused to talk to me since then, not even giving me a chance to explain, and of course the next morning Neville’s glares had added to hers. Even Luna didn’t look at me with her natural kindness anymore. Zillah had seemed very surprised when she had seen me the next morning; because I had spent the night on the hard floor of the corridor or because no one had caught me, I wasn’t sure. Still, she was now the friend I seemed to have in this castle.

“No, still not.”

“I think she needs time. I mean, she thinks you’re getting friendly with a death eater. You told me it’s the one who tried to torture her last year, right?”

I hummed and Zillah shrugged.

“Then I understand why she’s upset.” she paused to pat my shoulder. “Maybe she’ll even come to you first, who knows?”

“I hope so…”

Then a silence took place. My eyes were fixed on Ginny who was talking with Neville and Luna. The three of them were isolated from the rest of the Gryffindor that were in the great hall for breakfast, which wasn’t a lot. It was clear that their attitude was hiding something fishy with them.

“Are they preparing something?” suddenly asked Zillah. She was looking in the same direction as me and had a reprobatory look on her face.

“Probably, yes. They want to defend the castle,” I said before shaking my head. “I hope they’ll be prudent, it would kill Molly if something happened to her.”

“Yes, it looks like Ginny and her mother are really close to each other.”

I glanced at Zillah, surprised that she knew so much about Molly. As far as I knew, she had never talked to a Weasley. But my interrogations were cut short when an altercation burst on the other side of the great hall. Neville was standing up to one of Snape’s friends, and he was hiding a young girl behind him, probably a first year. Luna slipped underneath the table and grabbed the girl’s hand, leading her outside while Ginny was trying to calm Neville down. Finally, the silence came back when he agreed to follow her, and they disappeared behind the huge door.

“I still don’t understand why you don’t scream in their ears until they listen to you.” Zillah paused the time to let Snape walk to the professors’ table before getting closer to me. “I mean, your side of the street is clean, right? It’s not your fault if Amycus is weird.” I shrugged, trying to find the good words to explain why I had been waiting for two weeks instead of grasping the nettles. “Unless you think you have a reason to blame yourself, of course…” She finished with an interrogative look.

“Well… One of her brothers has been badly hurt by Fenrir Greyback, and his wedding has been ruined by death eaters. Another of his brothers was poisoned last year because of Malfoy. She has more reasons to hate the death eaters than anyone else and… I still don’t know what happened with my father, and I have even more doubts since this thing with Carrow... I just feel like it’s not right to stay by her side if I’m not sure that my father’s innocent, you know?”

Zillah nodded.

“I think you’re right, you can’t risk her hating you for nothing,” she conceded. “But how will you find the answers you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know.” I grumbled, before slamming my fist on the table. “It’s so unfair! What the hell is happening? Why does it have to be happening to me?”

“Relax Y/N, I’m not sure you want to make a scene in the middle of the great hall.” Zillah wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “You know you’re not alone, right? Whatever happens with Ginny and the others, I’m still with you.”

_ _ _

It was so unexpected that it took a few seconds for me to process what I had just heard. I was walking in the corridors somewhere near the library when three voices stopped me dead in my tracks. The voices were coming from behind the door that was just in front of me, belonging to three men I had never heard before even though they were obviously part of Snape’s watch dogs. At first, the voices were too low and all I could hear was a blur of unidentified sounds. But as soon as my ears were used to the muffled words, I realized they were talking about a particularly severe punishment and I had the feeling that I knew who was the target.

“ - couldn’t get them yet. Seems like the director is nervous about this and we all know how he can be when he’s not satisfied. He says it may be for today.”

“Maybe, but the fuckers are well organized, and we can’t just take them like this. The seniors won’t let us and we can’t afford to have the Order in our way.”

“The third year we’ve interrogated earlier said they were preparing their things in a special room in the castle, the room of requirements I think he said. Seventh floor. We can take a shot.”

“Never heard of this before, you sure he didn’t lie to you?”

“Trust me, he knew better than that.”

The first who had talked said something else, but I didn’t hear it. I had taken a few steps back and my brain was almost burning: how could I avoid Ginny and the others getting caught? I knew what was going to happen if evidences were found, I myself had paid full price for defending a bunch of terrified second years in front of Alecto Carrow and the sanction reserved for Ginny, Neville and Luna oughted to be even worse.

The wooden door suddenly opened, leaving me defenseless in front of three death eaters that drew their wands as in one. I was so terrified that my brain, which was so fast only a few seconds ago, seemed to be freezing along with the blood in my veins.

“I suggest that you find a good excuse for listening to us, or I can promise you you’ll regret it.” threatened a tall and thin man, whose face seemed to be the copy of a rat’s.

“I know what they’re going to do and where I can tell you if you want.” I blurted out before holding my breath, praying that they would be convinced.

The three guys exchanged looks, and the one on the left seemed dangerously sceptical. Finally, the rat-faced guy nodded and lifted an eyebrow.

“It’s for soon, in the potions classroom.” I started, trying my best to keep control of my breath. “I believe they want to make it explode, I’ve seen them gathering all sorts of forbidden products. I think they’re already there, but-”

“You better be telling the truth.”

With that, the three men left precipitously and as soon as their bodies had disappeared from my sight, I turned tails and ran in the other direction. I needed to get to Ginny as soon as possible to warn her not to do whatever she had in mind. By the time I had gotten to the seventh floor, my legs were burning and my lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding. Without losing a second, I began pacing to make the door appear but someone’s arrival interrupted me.

“You here? Get out of here, you traitor!”

It was Seamus, and he rolled up his sleeve as if to address his words.

“Seamus!” I exclaimed, which definitely surprised him. “I need you to tell Ginny to stop whatever she’s preparing. She’s in danger, you hear me? In danger! Someone denounced her to Snape and he knows she’s here with Neville, Luna and whoever helps them. I led the death eaters off the scent but it won’t be enough, tell them, okay?”

And with that, I left as quickly as I had come, afraid that the wrong person could see me here and guess what had happened. I glanced in my back one last time - Seamus was still looking at me, seemingly very confused, but he nodded silently before being hidden by the wall. I only managed to join the fifth floor when a voice shouted loudly.

“You! Stop!”

I had been caught.

The rat-faced guy grabbed my arm, his fingers tightening me so tightly that it felt like he was touching my bones. He was almost growling, the sound coming from the depth of his throat and terrifying me as much as a snarling wolf would have. The man, Marcus as it seemed since one of his friends called him when he joined us, abruptly pulled my arm to make me walk behind him. His pace was quick and determined, and his jaw tightly clenched. As far as I could see, he was furious, and the little hope I had left vanished. I didn’t even know if I would make it out alive.

The three men brought me to an empty classroom that I was positive I had never been in before. The tables were all covered in a thick layer of dust, some of them were broken and so were the chairs. There was no window, only one door and the latter closed quietly behind us. I had the intuition that it wouldn’t open that easily, and definitely not soon.

It was dark in there, but not enough to be blind. That made me realize that the walls had a certain number of cracks, and for a second I thought of screaming with all the breath in my lungs. Marcus probably had the same idea at the same time; before I could do anything, he cast a silencing spell on me.

“This way, we’re sure we won’t be bothered.” he whispered with a twisted smile.

My heart began to beat at a terrible pace, and the fact that I was trying to scream so loud without even producing a whimper made me feel so defenseless that I never tried to protect myself. I just waited for the punishment, knees getting numb on the stone floor, expecting the pain without receiving it. It looked like it wasn’t what Marcus wanted; he tried to get me to react, maybe even attack him in what we both knew would be a desperate and useless attempt to escape; he pushed me before putting me back on my knees, insulted me, described me all he would do to me, all he wanted to do to Ginny, but I didn’t want to give him satisfaction. I wanted to focus on something else than the torture I was about to suffer, and all I found was to imagine Ginny swooping in to save me and telling me she wasn’t mad anymore.

However, it wasn’t Ginny’s voice that I heard when the first Cruciatus spell hit me, and it wasn’t hers either that I heard during the unending time that the punishment lasted.

_ _ _

“Y/N? Y/N?”

The voice seemed to come from a dream, muffled as if I had cotton in the ears, distant and soothing.

“Y/N!”

It suddenly became louder, more defined, and with the proximity I heard something else in this voice. Something that wasn’t soothing, it was the contrary; it was anxious and stressful, not very steady but not shaking either. More importantly, it was Ginny’s voice.

I opened my eyes, and it took a moment to remember where I was. The classroom. I could see the tables that had been moved around me, and I could even see the walls which was impossible before. A tall silhouette was getting close to me, someone that I couldn’t identify because the door was open behind them and there was too much light. The person that was now next to me kneeled and Ginny’s features appeared. She seemed disturbed, sad too.

“She’s awake!” she shouted above her shoulder, which made me screech. My head was on the verge of exploding. “Come on,” she added more softly as her eyes were on me again. “We’ll bring you somewhere safe.”

I nodded and let her and Neville, who had gotten in too, lift me to put me back on my feet. My legs had never felt so heavy and devoid of strength, I was nothing more than a dead weight as the two carried me out of this hell. As we got closer to the door, I identified three more persons; Zillah was standing next to Luna, and Seamus had taken a step forward to help Ginny. The latter shook her head and I felt her grip on my waist tightening.

The way to the room of requirements - I had heard Neville mentioning it, so I had supposed it was our destination - was essentially composed of stairs, and no matter how hard I tried to help Neville and Ginny, there wasn’t an ounce of energy left in my body. Every single cell was terribly painful, I had never suffered so much in my life before.

We finally reached a corridor of the seventh floor, the same in which I had stumbled upon Seamus earlier - how long I didn’t know though, it was another question I would have to ask. A huge door appeared and Ginny half carried me inside. She helped me reach a makeshift bed on the floor, and as soon as my head touched the fabric, my eyes closed.

And they stayed closed for a while, or so I supposed when I woke up. The room was no longer almost empty, it was more looking like an anthill now that all the beds and hammocks were occupied. But it wasn’t exactly time for sleeping; all the conversations were forming a soft buzzing somehow reassuring. Despite my sore body, I sat up and took a better look around me. The room wasn’t huge, maybe a bit bigger than a large classroom, not much more. The beds were in fact makeshift mattresses with colorful blankets, and the hammocks that were as colorful were suspended to the walls. There were also two banners hanging from the wall in front of the door; one for Gryffindor and one for Ravenclaw.

“It’s because we only have Gryffindors and Ravenclaws here,” said Ginny as she arrived from behind me with a water bottle. She handed it to me and I glanced to thank her before drinking avidly. “Though we probably will have to add another, your friend Zillah is here too. Very curious, maybe even too much.” she frowned before shaking her head. “But it’s not important. Are you feeling better?”

Ginny waited patiently as I was finishing the water. The sips I took were now longer and I was slower for a very good reason: I didn’t know what to say. Ginny wasn’t stupid though, and she gestured toward two Ravenclaw girls that I didn’t know. They nodded and left, leaving the two of us alone in this corner of the room.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me how you’re feeling.”

I could have answered a lot of things, like hungry, cold, afraid, sore… It was all true. Yet now Ginny was next to me, caring for me, and there was only one answer that seemed correct.

“Safe,” I murmured.

“You are now.” she whispered back. “We’ll make them pay, you can trust me.”

I nodded. The thought was somewhat soothing, but I couldn’t focus on that. It seemed strange that after such a long time spent seemingly hating me, at least avoiding me, Ginny was now sitting next to me, bringing me water and promising she would seek vengeance for me.

“Ginny, who do you see when you look at me?”

She looked up to me, seemingly surprised.

“I see one of my best friends that has been tortured to protect me. I know, Seamus told me,” she added before I could say anything. “I don’t see a traitor or an enemy, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve never seen a traitor or an enemy. Just… Someone I didn’t trust enough, I guess.”

I looked away, slightly hurt. I would have trusted her with my life, even before all of this. Knowing that it wasn’t mutual was something I would have a hard time to accept.

“Y/N, trust me, I’ll never forgive myself for the things I’ve done to you. I shouldn’t have been so mefiant, I should have given you a chance to explain.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Ginny looked away, something that looked a lot like regret painted all over her face. It was rare to see her displaying her deepest emotions, it caught me by surprise and it was without thinking that I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, you trust me now, right? That’s all that matters.”

Ginny nodded and stared at me with an interrogative look.

“Can I ask you something?” She didn’t wait for my answer and continued. “Why didn’t you try to explain? Actually, what happened that day? Why was Carrow so… nice with you?”

“I don’t know why,” I mumbled. “I found it as strange as you. As for why I didn’t explain, it’s… it’s complicated, Ginny.”

“I think I can understand.”

There was no way I could avoid this discussion, that was clear. So I sighed and told her everything about all the research I had gone through, why I suspected my father to be a murderer, why I had felt like I didn’t have the right to be her friend. Ginny stayed silent for a while, and I didn’t have any idea on what her reaction would be. Her face was closed, she was looking at some point in the opposite corner of the room, where Zillah was talking with Luna and another Ravenclaw girl.

“And what was Zillah’s reaction when you told her you didn’t feel like you could be my friend?”

I hesitated before answering. The question was weird, it was not really what I was expecting but Ginny seemed to be deep in her thoughts.

“She said that I was right, I shouldn’t talk to you before being sure my father was innocent. Why?”

“You don’t find it strange that she didn’t advise you the contrary? To come to me and try to explain?”

“I… don’t know.” I hesitated again. “Ginny, what are you thinking about?”

“You noticed that Zillah was there when we found you in the classroom, earlier?” I nodded. Yes, I had seen her, even though I wasn’t expecting her when it was Ginny, Neville, Luna and Seamus that she was accompanying. “No one told her what you had done, and she wasn’t with you before. She’s the one who led us to you. How did she know?”

“Ginny… I know where this is going, but you’re wrong. Zillah’s my friend, and she didn’t even know what I was going to do! I was alone when I heard their conversation and I didn’t see her afterward.”

“I’m not talking about this.” Ginny’s voice was calm, and it was firmly that she grabbed my wrist to address her words. “Y/N, I’m not saying she denounced you to the death eaters. I’m saying she denounced us to them, and you just happened to hear them.”

“But how would she-”

I suddenly stopped because the question was useless. I knew how she had learnt about what Ginny, Neville and the others were preparing. Something as burning as acid slowly crept in my veins; it was guilt, because I was the one who had told her.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but it looks like you gave your trust to the wrong person.”

“Ginny, I’m- I’m sorry, if I had been-”

“It’s not your fault. I promise she too will pay for hurting you.”

Ginny was now infuriated; if her face was stoic, her eyes said it all for her.

_ _ _

“Zillah?” repeated Luna. “I knew I shouldn’t have warned her about the Wrackspurts. She deserves to have her brain go fuzzy.”

“Brain fuzzy or not, at least we know who the traitor is.” added Ginny. “Now, we have to confront her.”

“But we have no proof,” interjected Neville. “We’re not sure that she’s really the one who ratted us out, maybe she found us just because she was looking for Y/N. As for the ‘you shouldn’t talk to Ginny thing’, it’s not a secret that she doesn’t like us, maybe she just wanted to keep Y/N for herself.”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” said Ginny. “And I refuse to let her get out of this just because we’re not sure.”

“You’re making it personal.”

“Of course I’m making it personal!” exploded Ginny. “You saw Y/N too, didn’t you? You helped me carry her because she had been tortured so much that she couldn’t even walk! How can I make it anything else than personal?”

Seeing them talking about me as if I wasn’t here was getting annoying, so I just interrupted them. It caused me to deal with a murderous look that disappeared as soon as Ginny realized it was me.

“Neville’s right, we can’t do anything as long as we’re not sure. And it’s not by sitting here that you’ll find the proof you’re looking for,” I added before Ginny could interrupt me. “Maybe we should stop talking and begin searching.”

“You’re right,” she conceded. “Neville, Luna, you should start asking people about Zillah, but only people we trust, okay?”

Neville rolled his eyes, either because of the obvious recommendation or because Ginny had taken her time to admit he was right, but he still got up and followed Luna. As for me, I ignored Ginny’s piercing eyes when she asked me to follow her out of the room of requirements. We both stayed silent for a while: everytime one of us wanted to say something, someone stepped in the corridor we were in and silence was never broken.

“I know what you’re doing.” Finally said Ginny as we were heading to the library. She brushed aside my innocent face and continued. “I think you’re still hoping that she’s innocent.” It was useless to deny it; of course I didn’t want Ginny to be right, so instead of trying to find excuses, I shrugged. “I get it that it’s hard for you Y/N, placing your trust in the wrong person is… Well, it’s not very pleasant. But you have people you can trust around you, you have real friends. You have me.”

“Thank you Ginny. I- I needed to hear that.”

She nodded and accelerated a bit to open the library’s door in front of me.

“You didn’t tell me what we’re doing here,” I murmured as I was following her through the shelves until we stumbled upon Madam Pince.

“Can we go to the restricted section? It’s important.”

Madam Pince simply nodded and Ginny gestured to me to follow her.

“Since when can we go to the restricted section without any authorization?” I asked, flabbergasted.

“We have one, Madam Pince just allowed us, didn’t she?” Ginny glanced at me with an amused look. “It’s not the first time I’m searching in this section for information, that’s all.”

“I’ve been several times too and I always needed a note from a professor,” I grumbled as Ginny opened the door of the section. Once sure we were alone in it, Ginny turned to me and finally explained why we were here.

“We’re going to do some research about this muggle family you think your father has killed.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s something strange, and with Zillah’s reaction, I wonder if her family isn’t involved.”

“Impossible,” I objected. “They are muggles.”

“That’s what she told you.” I was beginning to find this far-fetched when she asked me something else that made me doubt. “Tell me, does Zillah seem scared by the whole muggle born thing to you?”

I opened and closed my mouth several times. Now that I thought about it, she didn’t seem even concerned by the several attacks and controls that the muggle borns were suffering. I hadn’t heard her talking about it once, and if we added the behaviour I had found inappropriate in the train, then it was natural to think that maybe she had something to hide. As Ginny was still monologuing, I found a table in a corner between two shelves and pulled a chair; I hadn’t said anything about it, but all the cells of my body were still burning, making every movement really painful.

“Does it still hurt?” asked Ginny from behind me. Her hand suddenly appeared in front of me, holding a vial filled with potion. “It’s for the pain.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled before drinking it straight. “So, where do we begin?”

The next hour and half was spent pouring over genealogy books and articles mentioning murders and death eaters. The potion Ginny had given me had made me sleepy, my eyes were closing despite my will to stay awake to find information, and Ginny eventually decided it was enough for this day.

“I’m going to bring you back to the room of requirements, and then I’ll help Neville and Luna, okay?”

I nodded and let her put back in their shelves all the books we had been reading. Then we left the library and joined our little safe place. Ginny only left after having made sure I was in my bed and too asleep to move away from it.

_ _ _

“I gotta admit you were right,” mumbled Neville, the eyes still fixed on the picture he was holding.

“I knew it, there was something strange from the beginning! Zillah is a liar and she had us all.”

Ginny had finally found the proof she had been looking for for days now: my father wasn’t a murderer. He had probably never known the muggle family that had been killed, I would have to ask him if the opportunity arose. The picture was a good enough evidence in itself: it had been taken by a muggle that lived in a street close to where the murder had occured, only a few minutes after the presumed moment of the facts. It showed a man leaving an alley with what looked awfully like blood all over his clothes. He was a wizard, which couldn’t be denied as he was holding a wand, and more importantly, his face wasn’t my fathers but the same as Zillah. I had first objected that it could be a coincidence; that was great because I was now sure my father wasn’t responsible, but maybe it wasn’t a member of Zillah’s family? Ginny had then handed me a copy of a muggle newspaper that mentioned a guy with Zillah’s family name, saying that he had been missing for a week. He had disappeared two days before the murder.

“But-” I had tried to object before Neville interrupted me.

“Listen Y/N, I think that these are unquestionable evidence. I understand that you refuse to believe that your friend lied to you, but it seems pretty obvious to me that she isn’t the person she says she is.”

“Even if it’s his father, it doesn’t mean that she knew!” I exclaimed. Neville and Ginny exchanged a glance that I didn’t like at all, and Ginny sighed.

“There’s something we haven’t told you,” she began. “We didn’t want to break it to you unless we were sure, but with all the things we’ve found, there’s no doubt left. You know this Slytherin guy she’s always with?” I nodded, apprehending what was next. “He and all his family have sworn allegiance to You-know-who. She meets regularly with him and a few other people in the dungeons. Most of them have well known death eaters in their family.”

Neville and Ginny were both looking at me and looking sorry. The latter patted my shoulder before wrapping her arm around my shoulders.

“We can’t let her know we’ve figured everything out,” she murmured. “I think it would be too dangerous.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Neville shook his head, an irritating sympathetic look on his face, and he left without another word. Ginny was still just next to me; with everything that had happened, I was probably in for several months with her following me like my own shadow. That thought didn’t bother me at all.

“You know, Neville doesn’t really understand why you didn’t ask your family about all of this,” said Ginny after a few minutes spent in silence. “After all, with the rumours it’s legitimate. Is it because of this?”

“I wasn’t sure I could trust my mother to tell me the truth, and I didn’t ask my father for obvious reasons. As for the rest of my family, they are all suspected too.”

“I see,” she murmured. “I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t find anything about them, just the proof that your father’s innocent. At least now, you’ll be able to ask your parents.”

I noded silently. After another few minutes, Ginny decided I had to change my mind and offered to follow her in the greenhouses. I first refused; couldn’t she let me get depressed on my own? But she insisted and I eventually gave up, secretly grateful that she hadn’t just left me alone.

I thought that with time, I had gotten used to the new Hogwarts, to the now omnipresent silence and darkness that crept in every corridor. It had been a while since the first of September, a time long enough to forget how joyful the place used to be. However, when we got to the main floor, where usually there were always several groups of students and even teachers no matter what time it was, it hit me harder than ever that the school was now like dead. As if it had been killed by all the evil that had invited itself.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” I glanced at Ginny, wondering if she was thinking about the same thing as I was. “How everything seems physically darker than before,” she added. “In all honesty, I don’t know anymore what could save the castle… I thought that Dumbledore's Army was the solution, but let’s face it… We’re not changing anything here.”

“You’re wrong, many students are safe in the room of requirements thanks to Dumbledore’s Army. And think about the day Harry, Ron and Hermione will come back, think about how things will change!”

Ginny nodded with a smile and quietly thanked me. If it hadn’t sounded so cliché, I would have answered that she had done way more for me, and that all I wanted was her to be confident because I would have done anything for her. But it did sound very cliché, so I just shrugged it off.

“Funny how you just thought of my brother and his friend,” Ginny suddenly said with a malicious smile. “You are sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you’re in love with him?”

“What?” I exclaimed in disbelief. “Me? In love with Ron? Certainly not!”

“Then why are you always so excited to come with us for the holidays?”

Ginny seemed to be really amused by the situation, but I really wasn’t. She was right when she said that I was always overjoyed to spend some time at the Burrow but it wasn’t for Ron, I barely spoke with him! I wasn’t sure about the reason behind this excitement but it was definitely not her brother.

“I don’t know, but trust me, it’s not because of any of your brothers.”

“That’s too bad.” she stated, even though it didn’t really look like she was disappointed. “I still hope one day, you’ll be officially part of the family.” I laughed, and agreed with her. “You know what they say, as long as there’s life, there’s hope!”

“Yeah, well it looks like we won’t stay hopeful for long, then,” I mumbled as I was watching the empty corridor.

“You shouldn’t be so pessimistic, Y/N.” Ginny wasn’t smiling anymore, but she wasn’t looking defeated either. She was just determined. “We’re together, there’s inevitably hope. You and I, we’re two against the storm, and we have our friends and family. I’m not too afraid, and I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not,” I smiled. “Not anymore. Ginny, I just wanted you to know that… As long as you need me, I won’t fall.”

She grabbed my hand and smiled.

“I’ll always need you.”

“Then I’ll never fall.”

#dev's2kwritingchallenge #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #Ginny Weasley #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley x you

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 4 years

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Pain of reality [Remus Lupin x Reader] - Requested

Title: Pain of reality Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Word count: 3.3k Published: 16 July, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: I got this little one requested by a reader of mine on Wattpad. I found the idea quite adorable, but I ended up making it a lot more angsty than I thought it would turn out to be. I hope you will like it anyway :D Summary: Remus breaks up with you in fear of hurting you. But then you overhear a conversation between Remus and his friends, which leaves you in shock. Request: [x]

"Hi HeloiseDBrightmore, I have a request for a one shot on on your Marauders imagines (X reader + gifs) story, could you do one where you get in a bad fight with Remus and he breaks up with you out of fear you will find out his furry little problem. You feel lost and then 2 weeks after the breakup you overhear Sirius and James telling him you deserve to know the truth and that you won’t care about his furry little problem. You step out to confront them, idk really know maybe something similar? I really love Remus! Thanks, keep writing your really good!" - BOOK__LOVER22 [Wattpad]

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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"Remus John Lupin!" You shouted as you stood in the middle of the Clock Tower Courtyard with your hands resting on your hips, lips pursed in anger.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." He replied as he was about to walk away.

"No! I am so fed up of you always running away when I dare to ask about your disappearances. I have the right to know." You spoke as you walked over and stopped right before him, looking up into his dark orbs. "We have been together for almost a year. I deserve an explanation. I feel like you are keeping something from me." You tried this time in a calmer manner.

"I'm sorry." He heaved a deep sigh as he was about to talk again, but he didn't.

"Talk to me, please." You placed your hands on his chest as you inched closer to him.

"I can't." He got hold of your wrists, removed them from his body and walked away. You didn't even bother to turn around. You just let your words escape.

"Why are we even together if you can't trust me enough?" You sounded broken and weak, but he knew how hurt you have been even without hearing your voice. He knew it was all his fault. He was scared. He was afraid you would leave him, but most of all, he was terrified of hurting you.

"I guess, you are right." He blurted out, making you spin around in your place.

"What?" You exclaimed as your wide eyes were plastered over his back. He didn't turn around. He didn't even look at you for a mere second.

"I guess, we shouldn't be together. I clearly can't trust you." Silent tears left your eyes, your cheeks soaked in the liquid. You felt as if you have been stabbed on the chest and was struggling to breath.

"You don't mean that." You tried to fight the inevitable.

"I do. I don't think we should be together." He shook his head, looking up at the Clock Tower. "I think it's better if we just leave each other alone." His voice didn't even break at his words, making you feel as if you meant nothing to him. As if you have not showed him how much he meant to you. As if you have been at fault for everything that has gone bad in your relationship.

"Remus, please... don't do this. You know I love you. I really do. If I didn't show you well enough, then just tell me how to. Please don't leave me..." You sobbed. His words cut deep and you felt your heart being clenched in your ribcage stronger and stronger the more he stood in silence. "I thought everything was okay a couple of days ago. Have I done something? Let's talk this through." You attempted to save the situation, but he slowly shook his head.

"Nothing is okay. I don't... I don't want this anymore. I don't want to be with you anymore." He spoke firmly. Each and every word of his cutting deeper. You stared at his back, no words wanting to leave your lips anymore. You loved him to your core and you have never dared to imagine a break up. You were just perfect together. Of course you did fight on occasions, mostly about the secret he has been keeping from you, but it has never gone this far.

You were watching his brown sweater, the way the horizontal lines ran across the clothing, the way the bottom of his jumper wrinkled on his back.

You went numb. Your thoughts were all a mess, making you unable to process the situation. He meant everything to you, but he didn't even take a look at you as he ended the happiest part of your life.

You heaved a deep sigh and walked up to him to stand beside him. You wiped off the tear stains from your cheek and sighed once more, forcing your words out.

"I hope you will find happiness in the future." Your voice was soft and light, barely audible. It was full of sadness and guilt, feeling as if it was all your fault. That you could have done more. That you might have done something you weren't even aware of. Maybe you argued with him too much. Maybe you didn't show your feelings clearly enough. Maybe... you were just not good enough.

You walked away from him, heading up to your dormitory, wishing to be as far as possible from the person who just broke your heart into the tiniest pieces. You dropped on your bed, sobbing into your pillow, going through each and every happy moment you have experienced with Remus. His light kisses, his loving hugs, his strong hold around your hand. He was your everything and you were beyond heart broken.

He didn't even look at you as he broke off your relationship, confirming that all along it was you that felt deeply about him, but he didn't even care enough to look you in the eye while leaving you.

You didn't want to hate him, hell you couldn't have, but your pain was unbearable. After what happened, you weren't sure he has ever loved you. You thought, maybe it was just an act. He got rid off you so easily, it hurt how simple of a step it was for him to take, while you had to suffer this horrible heartache. It was unfair and you wanted nothing, but to forget him, to forget that your year long relationship might not have been real.

You cried into your pillows till the moment there were no more tears left and your heartache found its company in your headache. You gave into your sweet slumber, hoping for this all to be just a bad nightmare.

But it wasn't.

Weeks has passed and you were still hurt. You caught his eyes wondering over to you, making each and every look feel like another stab into your chest. As if he was mocking you. As if he wanted to see that you were hurting enough.

Remus wasn't that kind of a person. But then did you actually know him? Breaking up with you seemed to be one of the easiest things he has ever done. The heavy weight of your unrequited love and the sight of your clearly unaffected ex-boyfriend fuelled your sadness.

As you walked out to the Black lake on a cloudy, dark afternoon, you saw Remus talking to his friends, almost as if they were having an argument. Remus was heavily gesturing, like he was trying to deny something, while James and Sirius seemed agitated.

You walked closer to the group of friends, hiding behind a large oak tree. You have stood just a couple of meters away, close enough to be able to hear their conversation.

"Moony, you have to stop this. You are hurting both of you." Sirius said as he threw his arms in the air dramatically.

"I can't, Padfoot. I can't let Y/N get any closer to me." He tried to argue with his friend, making you frown as you realised you were part of the subject of their conversation.

"But you can! We stayed by your side all along. We didn't leave you. Why is it so hard to believe that people who love you would stay by your side?" James argued this time, trying to convince Remus, but he just shook his head in denial.

"It's not just that, Prongs. It would kill me if I ever hurt Y/N. It kills me to even think about it. I can't let that happen and the most logical way is to keep myself away." He explained firmly.

"Logical? You are not being logical at all, Moony. Y/N is a smart person, who loves you to bits. I can't imagine anyone else being more accepting, more loving. You would just need to explain things clearly. You need to communicate instead of making decision on your own. Stupid decision to stay the least." Sirius attempted to argue with his friend's reasoning.

"I can't." He replied simply.

"I give up." Sirius stepped back abruptly, turning to the tree you were hiding behind. Your eyes widened. So did his, before a huge grin appeared across his face and gave you a cheeky wink. "Let me ask you something. Do you love Y/N?"

"Of course, I do. How many times do I have to tell you how much? Do you think I would have ended things if I didn't care?" He frowned, raising his voice, clearly agitated. You felt your heartbeat quicken, hope filling you up once again.

"Do you miss her?" Sirius continued.

"Please, don't make this any more difficult than it already is." He begged his friend almost as if he was in pain.

"Do you?" He didn't plan on giving up though.

"What do you think? I don't think I have loved anyone else so strongly before." He heaved a deep sigh, shaking his head. "Can we just change subject? I really don't want to talk about this."

"Then Y/N has the right to know that you are werewolf." He shrugged as if he was concluding the conversation. Your eyes widened in surprise, your lips parted involuntarily. You stepped out of your hiding, staring at the love of your life in shock.

"Y/N..." Remus exclaimed, a terrified expression across his face.

"Did you hear all of that?" Sirius asked and you nodded in reply.

"Sirius, what have you done?" Remus whispered weakly, his eyes not even leaving you for a second.

"I made sure that Y/N had a say in your decision too. You can hate me and you can even curse me for revealing your secret, but breaking up over something that you didn't even try to explain, is plain dumb. You didn't even give Y/N a chance to understand or to make a decision by leaving you or staying by your side." He shrugged casually.

You were shocked to say the least. It was definitely hard to process, but in no way it affected the fact that he loved you and you loved him. Sirius was right. He should have shared this with you and let you decide whether you wanted to stay by his side or leave him for good. You had every right to know, especially after you heard how much he loved you.

"So... you are... a werewolf?" You spoke hesitantly, questioningly. He heaved a deep sigh and hid his face behind his palms. "I am not saying I'm not surprised. I am still processing. But I had the right to know." You explained, waiting for him to reply.

"Maybe. I guess. But even if I told you, it wouldn't change the fact that I am afraid of hurting you. I can't be close to you." He shook his head, letting his arms drop.

"Actually, it would change a lot. I think I can make a decision on wanting to be with you or not even if you have a furry little problem. My feelings didn't change. I still love you, Remus." You replied firmly.

"Even if you wanted to be with me, despite all that you have just heard, I would still be scared of hurting you. I wouldn't want to risk that." He raised his voice to get his opinion across to you.

"But you said it yourself. You still love me." You tried to argue with him.

"But I don't want to be with you." He spoke firmly, making your heart skip a beat, your breath hitch in surprise. It has never occurred to you. He was right. He might have loved you, but that didn't mean he wanted to be with you. You couldn't begin to describe how silly you felt for having your hopes up.

"Oh..." You swallowed hard, feeling the tears collecting in your eyes.

"That's not what I..." He started, but you cut him off.

"No, no... I understand. I guess I just didn't think this through." You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly with a painful smile. It hurt bad. You thought being dumped was painful, but feeling rejected and being told he didn't need you for a second time, sent you over the edge.

"Y/N..." He called out for you, almost whispering your name painfully as he stepped closer. However you backed away. You didn't need him to comfort you. The last thing you needed is to feel him anywhere near you.

"It's fine, Remus. Really." You smiled at him, trying to force it as hard as you could to make him feel better. "It's fine." You said as you turned around and hurried back to the castle.

"You are officially an idiot." James exclaimed shaking his head.

You were almost running through the corridors, trying to keep your tears at bay until you were out of sight finally. You hid behind a portrait, a hole in the wall, which Remus showed you a couple of months back, letting your tears run across your face endlessly.

You held your fist in front of your chest, clenched tightly, your knuckles turning white as if it was helping your pain to go away. But it didn't. Your breathing was uneven, your lips dry, your face deformed. Your pain couldn't have been more obvious. You threw your head backwards, letting it harshly collide with the cold wall behind you. The pain was nothing compared to the lump, the suffocating feeling in your throat.

A flash of light blinded you for a second as you saw the portrait door open. Remus stepped inside, closing it behind himself.

"Remus, I really need to be alone right now." You spoke weakly, trying to remove the tear stains from your cheek.

"I'm sorry." He spoke, crouching down in front of you, placing one of his hands on your cheek gently. "I am so sorry, Y/N. I am so so sorry." He kept repeating himself, making you feel indescribably confused.

"I don't understand." You furrowed your brows, waiting for a reply.

"Of course, I want to be with you. That's not what I meant out there." He sighed deeply, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "When I broke up with you, it was the hardest moment of my life."

"Sure didn't seem like it." You scoffed rudely and even you were surprised at your behaviour.

"I know. I tried to hide it. I thought if I left you and stayed away from you, it would solve everything. You don't understand how hard it was for me to see you suffer each and every day. I wanted to walk up to you and just wrap my arms around you to tell you that it will all be fine. I am really sorry for hurting you." His gentle tone, his apologies, his guilty look made you want to engulf him in a hug, but you stopped yourself. You were too hurt.

"I thought I wasn't good enough. I thought maybe you never loved me." You admitted shyly.

"What? No! Don't even think about such silly things. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." He spoke in a panicking tone.

"What do you expect me to say?" You asked, unsure. He didn't want to be with you, but he wanted to be with you. He didn't want to hurt you, but here he was telling you how important you have been to him. You were utterly confused and beyond unsure of everything.

"I..." He stoped to think for a second. "I want to be with you. I want to kiss you, I want to hug you, I want to talk to you. I need you." He spoke softly, getting hold of your hands.

"Aren't you afraid of hurting me anymore?" You asked, not wanting him to back away in the future with the same stupid reason.

"I am. I am terrified even thinking about it. But I have the dumbest friends and I am the dumbest of them all. I guess they made me realise that I needed you more than I dared to admit." He confessed.

"I love you Remus. I really do, but how do I know that you won't just stand up with another stupid excuse and walk away?" You asked painfully, thinking through every possible options.

"My secret is out there. If you accept me like this, I have no reason to walk away." He squeezed your hands gently as if he tried to reassure you that he was there for you.

"We will have to talk about this. You will have to explain everything to me. My knowledge on werewolfs is not really broad." You smiled softly.

"Does that mean you are giving me a second chance?" He asked, eyes holding nothing but hope. You heaved a deep sigh before opening your lips to talk.

"You will need to work on getting my trust back. You really hurt me, you know?" You warned him even though you knew you would be back in his arms in no time. "You didn't let me make a decision on my own. You should know me by now, still you didn't even consider that I might have wanted to be with you whether you are a werwolf or not. You left me thinking you didn't want to be with me, that you didn't love me anymore. I thought it was all my fault. Seeing you every single day was as painful as it can get." You tried to make him understand how deeply his decision affected you.

"I am really sorry. I thought getting over the pain of break up was better than if I ever physically hurt you. I thought I made the right decision when I did it." He tried to explain it to you, but it didn't work on you anymore.

"Clearly didn't." You spoke harshly.

"I'm sorry, Y/N..." He sighed deeply. "Would you give me another chance, please?" He asked with a guilty expression across his face and you finally let your hard exterior go.

"You know... maybe if you kissed me, that would help me decide." You smiled playfully, which earned a heartfelt laughter from him. He leaned closer to you and attached his lips to yours, placing his hand behind your neck, keeping you impossibly close to him. He was a little rough, maybe more passionate than ever, but you didn't mind. You felt his feelings, his reassurance coming through to you and you knew he would do anything to keep you by his side at this point. As you parted he hinted a small peck on your lips before looking into your eyes.

"Did that convince you?" He asked with a raised brow. His smile grew wider as you giggled at his question.

"Maybe you need to try again. I am not quite certain just yet." You smirked, which made him shook his head, but soon his lips were on yours once again, kissing you just as lovingly as before. If not more.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to like and/or reblog the chapter. Thank you :)

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

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sisterofleatherfrog · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Kinktober day- 3

Prompt: Under-clothes bondage

Fives x Sub! OC (AFAB)

Orla is another one of my OC’s that I sometimes play around with in my fandom daydreams. She’s very tall (think around 6’10), and her appearance is non-human (I’ll definitely have to elaborate on that in art form later), and she is Five’s big-titty goth gf. She has some self-confidence/worth issues, but Fives is literally so goddamn smitten.

Some art as a sorry for missing day 4!

Tags: Bondage, collar, bf chooses gf’s clothes and dresses her, pre negotiated kink, safewords, cunnilingus, dirty talk, daddy kink

Words: 2440

🖤💜🖤

“Fives? Do- do you, could you help me?” Orla asked, a tremble present in her voice. They’d planned this outing the previous week, going out to a beer garden to have lunch and meet with a few of Five’s brothers and their significant others. She’d made friends with a few of the troopers and their partners and was definitely looking forward to having a few drinks with them. That wasn’t all though, after confirming the date and time Orla had got to thinking. They’d been playing around with a lot of things recently in the bedroom; the collection of ropes, binders, among other things in their special little place was a testament to that. They had yet to try and bring it out of the bedroom, but it had been teasing Orla’s mind all week, and maybe…

Footsteps came up to the ajar bedroom door and it swung as it opened, her lover’s head peaked in. “What’s the matter Meshla? The dress zipper stu-” Fives abruptly stopped as he saw her, kneeling nude in the middle of the bedroom with a several meter length of red rope before her. The door lightly knocked the wall as he came fully into the room and looked down at her from a few paces with no little interest in his eyes. “What’s all this then,?”

He didn’t sound like he was upset in any way and Orla felt confident in explaining: “Well, remember us speaking of trying more adventurous things?” Fives nodded, eyes shining with that impish edge she knew so well as they roved her lush body. She bit her lip, “I must confess I’ve been thinking more on it since these plans were made, and maybe… Could you tie me up, daddy? I want to be your good little slut wherever we go together.” She lowered her head, but still her eyes stayed on Fives where he looked down on her.

For a moment he was quiet, seemingly stunned as everything, her nudity, the use of THAT word, and the begging all came together to short-circuit his mind. Before she could start to regret her decision though, he drew in a shaky breath and drew a hand down his face until the wide grin on his face was revealed to her. He shifted his weight, the movement catching her eye and bringing it down to his crotch where he was beginning to stir. “Shit meshla,” he breathed. “Do you mean it? Do you really want to do this with me?”

Orla nodded, a desperation that surprised her causing heat to lick throughout her abdomen and fill her head. Fives came and knelt before her, now looking up to her dark eyes, partially shadowed by her coal black hair. “I need your words Orla, I need to know you really want this and aren’t doing something just to please me. Maker, do I want you like this, but not at the expense of you being miserable.” The corner of his mouth lifted, revealing one perfect dimple. “I want this to be good for you too.”

A different warmth suffused her, she knew he loved her, and the amount of care he always gave her made her feel like a princess. Leaning her head down into a keldabe with him, she smiled before moving her lips to brush over his tattoo and down to his ear. “I want this, daddy, I truly do. I want to be extra good for you.” Orla punctuated her words by sliding a hand over his thigh and up to cup the bulge at his crotch. Fives groaned and grabbed the both of her wrists to stop her hands from wandering any further.

“You win this one, and you’re the best girlfriend ever!” He punctuated his sentence with a quick smooch before dragging her to stand with him. “Turn around meshla and lift your hair, let's see about getting you into this.” He started by placing the rope around the back of her neck, making sure that even halves were on either side of her neck and going down her front. Coming around he gently but confidently gripped it, already knowing the alignment of loops and knots he had to do. Within the valley between her breasts he made one knot and left a kiss on her left breast, below he made another and gave her right breast the same treatment. Just above her belly button he made one more knot, then dropped to his knees and started to trail kisses down from there, taking a moment to dip his tongue into her belly button and making Orla giggle, before he went lower and transformed it into a gasp. Five’s tongue followed the curve of her lower abdomen, trailed along her upper thigh, before he pulled back, his right hand taking its place before moving in and parting her labia with two strong, skilled fingers.

Fives looked into her intently, studying the configuration of sensitive flesh at her apex for a moment before coming forward to kiss her lips, making out with her slit as his tongue made love to her clit. She gasped down at him, hand coming to clutch at his shoulders and the top of his head, whatever she could reach to steady herself. He was- “Oh, Fives, right there love!” He moved deeper into her heat if that was even possible, both hands having moved to her ass cheeks to pull her closer. His lips were locked around her clit, alternating and simultaneously sucking and licking with that tongue of his, that said such alternatingly inflammatory and jesting words, skilled and silver now on her. Often he would move, delve into her, kiss along her thighs and tease, build her up to a wholly satisfying end. This was something else though, a hunger both desperate and wild, focused on one goal alone, tracing along that lone and narrow path with a single minded purpose. He went on, groaning into her and holding her still as she shivered writhed, her size making no difference in his ability to hold her right where he wanted with his strength.

Orla’s breath was escaping her in gasps and high whines, keening her need to him and she was drawn further and further up that path by him, his desperation infecting her as well. Oh he wasn’t taking his time at all, but she was adoring this direct and needy side to him. Her legs were turning to rubber and Five’s hands slid into the curve below her ass to hold her even more firmly, surely leaving marks that would be seen there later. He kept licking and laving, latched on so firmly it was as if he was feeding from her all the while she fed off the pleasure she got from him, creating a self-sustaining organism in a perpetual state of bliss and ecstasy. She felt him tying a new knot and keened into the otherwise quiet air of the room, her head tilting back and chest arching as she felt it winding ever tighter within her womb. Tighter and tighter, lick by suck, she was on the edge and just had to stretch a little further-

With a wild cry she fell, the knot unwound with a blinding intensity and she shook as her cunt clenched over nothing again and again. Fives kept at her throughout her orgasm, firmly pressing his tongue to her as she danced against it in order to carry her down. When she was passing pleasure and entering into the territory of too much, Orla put a hand on his head and gently urged it away from her and he released with an obscene pop sound. He gazed up at her, eyebrows drawn down into an expression of yearning and his eyes shining as bright as her slick on his chin. The sight was enough to draw an honest whimper from her.

“There, there meshla, you’re alright,” he cooed, now rubbing her legs and sides in order to sooth her. “You did so well, coming for me like that all wet and sweet. I was so happy when you told me how much you wanted to try something public that I just couldn’t help myself. I love you so, so much my beautiful Orla. ‘Want you to always feel good.” He rambled against her lower stomach as he rested his forehead there, praise spilling out of him like water from a too full cup. They stayed like that for a little while until she felt like she had more control over her body, the shivering and shaking dying down with her leveling breath. Finally he lifted himself and stood, hands coming to rest against her lower back as he delicately pressed her to him. “Are you good? I didn’t mean to be too much, especially before we got somewhere to be.”

Orla smiled widely, “It wasn’t too much Fives, in fact it was very much appreciated.”

He smiled back, “Well that’s good, I’d hate to have to tell the boys we had to cancel because the pussy was just too good.”

She snorted, “Oh I’m sure you would, lover.” Suddenly feeling a little shy, she continued, “Now, can you please help me finish getting ready? I don’t think I can do all these knots and twists myself.”

He reached up to cup her cheek and draw her down for a quick kiss, “Oh meshla I’d be more than happy to assist. Though, after that, and this being your first time trying this, how about we put some panties on you so the rope won’t rub as much?”

This man- “What pair should I wear then daddy?” always so considerate of her.

His grin was downright feral as he looked at her before taking her hand and leading her over to her wardrobe and pulling out the proper drawer, said drawer full of a rainbow of lace, cotton, satin, and mesh. Orla loved fun panties and Fives took full advantage of that, loving whenever she would ask him to choose for her so that he could picture what lay under her clothes all day. She was partial to a few pairs, but he most always chose the pair he plucked from the bunch now, a royal and baby blue number dyed in a marble pattern with ‘Want some?’ written across the ass in aurebesh. He ducked down and she again steadied herself with his shoulders as he now lifted each of her legs to fit into the slip of fabric, before drawing them up to her hips and smoothing the hems.

Then, after checking with her once again, he returned to the previously forgotten rope and from the last left knot, drew the tailings down to her apex. Twisting the ropes together some so that they’d sit between her labia, he drew them between her spread legs and went to her back to draw it up to the initial loop at the back of her neck. Pulling so it was snug but not tight, he brought both halves to come out to her hands, “Hold onto these for me love.” She complied and he came back around the front of her, taking a moment to admire what he’d done already. “Oh, yeah, it’s all coming together.” Orla snorted and lightly slapped his chest, he raised an eyebrow, “Is that the sort of game you want to play right now?”

“Maybe later.” She teasingly promised and he grinned back at her, now looping the rope from under her arms and between the first and second knot, the rope turning back on each side to return behind her back the way it had come. He followed and looped each side around the lengths that ran up her spine before indicating she should hold the rope again. He did the same process between the second and third knot and around her back before bringing up what was left of the rope and tying it off on the third knot. He stepped back then, eyes roaming up and down the planes and curves of her body, now decorated with blue and tied off with red, like a present just for him. He looked for a long, long while.

“You know what to do if this gets to be too much and you want to stop, right?”

She nodded seriously, “Five taps to your thigh, or say ‘Zillo’.”

He smiled like the sun, “Now how are we going to cover all this up?”

“Oh I really don’t know daddy, maybe you could help me with that too?”

“Orla, I have no idea what I did to deserve you but I love you so much, and I mean that with my whole ass.” He confessed with all seriousness.

Laughing again, she pressed against him and leaned down to kiss his wonderful mouth. Breaking apart again they went to inspect her clothes hanging in the closet. He reached in and pulled out a black dress with a halter top and flowy skirt that would fall about halfway down her thighs. He grinned, “Feeling like being a little risky today as well by any chance?”

“Yes please my love!” Slipping it over her head, Fives did up the three clips that secured the neck. Leaving the last bit up to her, Orla found a top to layer over it to better obscure the bondage beneath, and finished it up with a traditional self-tying corset from her people, quickly done up by pulling the two cords to either side of her and tying them in front. Meanwhile, Fives had quickly gone to change his shirt and give his face a wipe, both having been soaked by her earlier. Returning in a casual purple button up with red stitching along the collar, he looked like a treasure to be found in her people’s queen's harem.

“Looking good lover.” She told him as she bent to pull on her boots, the three inch platforms bringing her height to a full foot above his own.

“Quacta, stifling.” he simply responded.

Walking towards the door he asked, “Are we all ready to go meshla?” he turned and she

smiled shyly again, feeling a blush turning the purple shades in her skin darker.

“Maybe not quite?” she intoned, moving back to the closet she opened it and pushed aside a few of his shirts to reveal a certain rack of jewelry, consisting of leather collars, some with rings on them, others otherwise decorative. “Which one do you think I should wear out today, daddy?”

In the end, they were a little late getting to the beer gardens.

🖤💜🖤

Oh I really liked writing this one. I know so far all my works have been coming out early in the morning the day after they’re supposed to be posted but I am going to try and fix that! Like the Tup and Aurelie work on the 1st, I feel like this one may come back with a part 2 because I’m really vibing with these two (and I hope y’all are too just as much as I am).

Kinktober works

Masterlist

#sisterofleatherfrogwrites #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #star wars #the clone wars #sw #tcw #sw tcw #fives #ct-5555 #arc trooper fives #fives x oc #fives is my favourite smart dumbass

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wlw-lovestruck-fiction · 3 years

Note

May i request vivienne x mc where mc leaves vivienne after a huge fight and doesn’t come back, only to have her find mc not only living in Japan but also finds her figure skating her heart out during after hours because mc’s best friend owns the skating rink facility. Vivienne stays and watches mc skate but when mc sees her, she ignores her because mc is tired of empty promises and dancing around everything that goes on between them. Especially their feelings. Little bit angst but fluffy ending

Warning: Mentions of toxic behavior.

...

“Fair warning, Vivienne, but this is stalker behavior.”

Vivienne swallows, feeling the words curl around her heart like barbed wire. The thing is, after so many wounds, what’s a few more?

So all she does is pause, ignore it and mask it with her trademark smoldering smirk, her expression all teasing confidence.

“Never thought I’d hear that jab from you, Jace. You learn something new every day.”

Jace stares at her with all the judging intensity of a spectator, the kind that knows when the character on screen is going to crash and burn into a hopeless little thing. Vivienne meets their gaze with a defiant one of her own, because she won’t let that happen.

She’s too familiar with the bitter feeling of a mistake. She knows when to stop. What she’s doing right now? It doesn’t feel like that. It’s light with the possibility of a new beginning, raw with the pain of a past confrontation that demands healing. It’d be easy to bury it in her past, adding more to the ever-growing pile, but Vivienne has grown tired of running and escaping and pretending everything is alright behind a fake smile and- and… She simply had to change. For the better.

She needed to face everything. Make it right.

And MC… that’s her biggest regret. And her first priority.

…

She has been to Japan before. The memory feels like it belongs to another lifetime.

The urge to run it’s overwhelming. She sees anything or anyone that reminds her of MC and her body tenses like a cat about to bolt away from visitors, yet she marches on, determined. An hour later she finds herself in front of a skating ring facility, bigger than she had initially assumed it to be.

“I didn’t expect anything else but the very best for you, MC.” Vivienne murmurs, her pace slowing down for the first time ever since she left the apartment the Poppy had in Japan. Doubt began to creep in like a flood, snuffing all the courage she had managed to gather, rooting her in place for a long minute, hesitating.

People were beginning to stare. Well, they were more like brief, curious glances, but Vivienne felt each of them like a prickle in her conscience.

She could turn back. MC wasn’t expecting her. No one would know about this other than Jace and-

No. No, no. No.

If she went back to the Poppy’s apartment without at least a brief conversation with MC, everything would have been for naught. The failure would otherwise crush her. She needed to face this. Otherwise, had she even changed at all?

She took a deep breath, trying to piece her courage back together. Slowly, she made her way in.

…

MC didn’t have a talent for ice skating, but her passion more than made up for it. She glided along the ice, effortless, easing into a slow spin along the ring, as if she was taking in the view of everyone skating alongside her. Vivienne hadn’t been here for more than a second and she was already mesmerized.

Her body is graceful and relaxed as she goes, completely in her element. From this distance, her expression is nothing but a fleeting mystery – the seductress gets the sudden urge to chase after her ethereal figure, to marvel intensely that someone this perfect exists. Vivienne had seen MC on many situations before, but nothing quite like this. She looks so free, her movements light like a leaf caught in the wind, and the light falls on her in such a way that she might as well be glowing.

Her happiness shines through, and a slow, loving smile settles on Vivienne’s lips before she can even register it. Her hands grasp the edge of the ring and the cold sensation startles her out of her reverie, not sure when she had come so close, but basking in it.

This is the effect MC had on her. She had missed it.

Caught in the warmth of her melancholy, what she sees next hits much harder. One glance up reveals the full-splendor of MC’s face, less than a meter from where Vivienne is standing. She is there one second and gone in a blink, speeding to the other side of the ring, but it was enough time to burn her expression into Vivienne’s mind: a full-blown scowl, barely softened by the sheer surprise of a memory long forgotten, buried deep into the ice. There’s a clarity in her eyes that stuns Vivienne and steals her courage away, and they speak clearly a decision from long ago: MC doesn’t want anything to do with Vivienne anymore.

The urge sparks again and Vivienne throws herself forward, not caring one bit about the stares she receives. She circles the ring in record time, intent on following MC who is already heading for the exit, her pace surprisingly brisk despite the skates she is still wearing.

“MC!” No response, save for MC’s hands curling into fists. “MC, please wait!”

Still, MC does have some distance advantage. It’s all she needs to get to a room and shut the door in Vivienne’s face just as she catches up. It’s one of the rooms not open for the public, she distractedly realizes, only for staff. There will be no pressure for MC to open the door, though. She only needs a few minutes and a call for security to escort Vivienne out, but like hell Vivienne is going to let that happen without saying her piece.

“I’ll leave you alone after this, I promise.” Vivienne says against the door, raising her voice just enough to be heard over it. “Nothing empty about it, I assure you. I— I’ve had… some time to think. I’m sure you’ll be glad to know the rest of the Poppy gave me plenty of lectures and no rest whatsoever… Zoe most of all. And I deserved it, because I didn’t… I didn’t really take the time to notice how you were feeling. I just wanted to protect myself, and that was too selfish from me. It’s true I was scared to enter a relationship, but I had no right to act the way I did, to… to try and manip—”

“Leave, Vivienne.”

The seductress took a sharp intake of breath, wishing she had all the time in the world to make this right. “Hear me out.”

“I’m friends with the owner, you know. Security would come in a second.”

Despite her suspicions getting confirmed Vivienne can’t help but smile, moving one hand to press it flat against the door and lean there. “Don’t go all Karen on me now, MC. Just give me five minutes.”

“I won’t listen to anything you say. I know better than to believe in your words.”

“I’ll say it again: there will be no more empty promises between you and me.”

MC snorts, on the other side of the door. Vivienne wants to imagine she’s also leaning against it, arms crossed, defiant. There’s a beat of silence which makes her heart swell, and at the next second she’s back to tumbling over her words, almost desperate.

“It didn’t realize it as soon as you left. I—I thought I was safe. That no one could hurt me now because I had driven them off, again, but then I began to feel like I had lost a crucial part of myself. I didn’t realize how much those nights we spent together talking meant. I didn’t realize that at some point I had begun to… to feel safe, and accepted, I just kept my guard up and manipulating you so you wouldn’t get any closer. Not once did I stop to think about you, and the way I dismissed your feelings, even when you tried to talk to me—”

“Please, leave. I don’t want to deal with this.”

“MC…”

“Today was supposed to be fun.”

“MC.”

“It’s just— you can’t honestly expect me to believe this. That you’ve changed. It’s only been, what, three months? There’s no possible way—”

“There is.” Her hand falls to the handle, the other automatically moving to search for a pin to pick the lock, but she freezes mid action and forces herself to keep them still against her sides. The one who must open the door is MC, voluntarily. “I was just made aware of your side of the story. It took some time for me to fully process it, admittedly, but once I did—”

“Yeah, sure. Real convenient you didn’t process it sooner.”

“Once I did, I realized how manipulative and… and, frankly, toxic I had been. No one deserves to be treated that way by their partner—”

“Funny, I don’t remember you saying we were in a relationship back then.”

“To be honest, relationships are… tools, for me. It’s my job in the Poppy. My biggest mistake was operating like you were a mark, when you obviously weren’t.”

“You’re sounding like a real knight in shining armor.”

“I’m… merely admitting my faults. I was stupid.”

“The biggest moron to have ever lived.”

Vivienne blinks at that, letting her head drop against the door with a dull ‘thud’. “I can’t deny that. It’s the truth.”

“Right… well, I’m glad your toxic behavior is out in the open now. I… I was warned, in the beginning. Nikolai and Remy told me how used you are to running away. That as a thief you were amazing but as a romantic partner you were a mess. I didn’t listen. I thought I could get through you.”

“And you did, I just…”

“Yes, yes, you realized it too late. And after the whole Poppy yelled at you, probably.”

“…you aren’t wrong.”

“You said what you wanted. Can you leave now?”

Vivienne hesitates, torn. “I feel like there’s more to say.”

“Frankly, I don’t care about you or whatever you feel right now.”

“May I come another day, then?”

“Are you seriously asking that after—? No, no, I don’t want to see you anymore. I left for a reason, you know.”

“I’m well aware. I just want to show you that I have changed.”

“And what, do you expect a medal? Just go.”

Vivienne doesn’t. She grips the handle tight, trying to let it anchor her. “Please…”

There’s another pause. MC’s voice is softer, quieter when she continues. Vivienne almost has to strain her ears to listen. “You always avoided any important subject I wanted to talk about. You always danced around my feelings. No, you looked for specific actions or feelings to take advantage of them. I don’t want to go through that anymore. Whatever we had is over. Leave.”

“I didn’t come here trying to start dating again.”

“As if we ever were before.”

“The fact is you did get through me. You were one of the few people I ever felt safe around. I’ve already accepted I destroyed any chance I ever had with you… I just want to part on good terms. I can’t stand the thought that I hurt you.”

“I’m calling security.”

Gritting her teeth, Vivienne takes a few steps back from the door. “I understand. I respect your decision, MC. I’m… glad we could talk. Goodbye.”

…

The universe has a twisted sense of humor, sometimes.

She’s seating alone in front a café, reading a book Remy had recommended to her long ago, trying to look for a distraction. Her mind won’t stop replaying the conversation she had had with MC almost a week ago, and the memory only makes her soul twist in agony and regret and a little bit of frustration. Not for the first time, she finds herself wishing to go back in time and slap her past self across the face, for hurting a wonderful woman such as MC.

“I’m a mess,” she muses, staring at the book in her hands without really reading it. “A complete mess. I never do things right when it comes to these types of situations…”

Dean flashes briefly across her mind and she scowls.

“I swore not to play with my loved one’s feelings like you did, and yet here I am.”

The chair next to her scrapes, as if someone had suddenly dragged it out. The sound makes Vivienne go tense, one hand already preparing to poison whoever had managed to surprise her. That shouldn’t happen. She’s normally hyperaware of everything that happens around her, as any thief would be.

Just how distracted is she?

“Careful there.”

Vivienne blinks, startled, pressing her back against her chair like a caged animal. “MC?” She breathes, wondering if she’s hallucinating.

“Yeah. Hey.”

“What… what are you doing here?”

MC presses her lips together. Vivienne’s eyes are immediately drawn towards the action, and then she forces herself to meet MC’s eyes, intent on not making this awkward.

“I mean—”

“Jett called me.”

“What?”

“He explained things further. It’s not enough to make me want to mend our…” She cuts herself off, looking away for a moment, but Vivienne catches how her lips had stretched around the ‘r’, and her heart beats with abrupt panic when she realizes MC had been about to say ‘relationship’. “Not enough to make me want to return to the Poppy.”

“But it’s enough to make you want to hear me out?”

“I want you to listen to me.”

“Ah. Of course. Go on.”

MC’s eyes are like volcanos waiting to erupt, two intense pools of chocolate that Vivienne can’t help but drown herself in. “You said you wanted us to part on good terms. I don’t think that’s entirely possible, but having this conversation will help us both. You said it yourself – you manipulated me to ‘protect’ yourself, because you were scared. You made empty promises, like you would if I had been a mark. I was interested in you because you were a mystery. You presented yourself like this very experienced, seductive young woman, but I knew there had to be more. I never really got past your shell, mostly because you were toxic, but also because I didn’t want to force you to tell me what was going on.”

That was true. MC had always been respectful, skidding around subjects that seemed to bother Vivienne. She was ready to talk if Vivienne was ready, on those few sleepless nights. At the time, Vivienne had thought that it was because she had MC perfectly in her control when in truth MC had let her, because she trusted her.

And she had fucked things up, as usual.

“You say that you understand how much you hurt me, I say you don’t grasp it entirely. You wouldn’t have come here otherwise.”

“I’m tired of running away.”

“Anyone would be.”

“But it was because I was tired that I decided to come here. I wanted to set things right, even if it meant we’d go our separate ways later.”

“I’m glad you at least acknowledge how bad you were, even if it took something like this.”

“You helped me change for the better.”

MC hums, skeptical. “I hope your… next relationship has more truthful communication in it.”

“I’ll try to apply that to all my relationships, romantic or not. Well, so long as it doesn’t interfere with my job…”

The only two people Vivienne felt she could have been with were out of her grasp, anyway, one dead and one so deeply hurt she wanted nothing else to do with her. There was no point in pursing a romantic relationship anymore.

“I’ve noticed you guys haven’t done any heists lately.”

“We’ve been laying low. Mainly it was so the others had more time to tell me off, which I appreciate. And… what about you? Are you doing better?”

“A lot. Ice skating is very therapeutic once you get the hang of it.” She smiles, then, something small and easy to miss. Vivienne treasures the sight. “My friends have helped, too. I’m not hurting, anymore.”

“I’m glad.”

MC nods, silent.

“Thank you for approaching me, MC.”

“Thank you for letting me go. We won’t meet again.”

The words sting, but Vivienne doesn’t feel like she’s crashed and burnt. She feels free, for the first time in ages.

“Goodbye, MC.”

“Bye.”

#unlady-like-12-25-36 #answered #lovestruck fanfiction #lovestruck #lovestruck qot #queen of thieves #qot #vivienne tang #lovestruck vivienne #angst #heavy angst #queen of thieves vivienne #qot vivienne

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roman-writing · 3 years

Text

no great revelation (8/8)

Fandom(s): The Haunting of Bly Manor / Star Wars

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 9.012

Summary: Jamie just wants to enjoy a drink after a hard day’s work on the Telosian Restoration Project. The last thing she needs is to get herself caught up in a mysterious woman with a lightsabre at the local bar.

read it below or read it here on AO3

VIII.

—

Getting to the planet’s surface was the easy part. Jane was told to wait in orbit, while they boarded Rebecca’s ship and flew down. They were all crammed into the tiny cockpit of Rebecca’s ship, where without enough seats to go around most of them had to simply hang onto whatever fixture they could find and pray. Jamie herself had been relegated the space at the very front, which in the event of a crash would’ve sent her hurtling straight through the reinforced glass windows. The Republic military feed they had cottoned onto earlier barked at them down the line, demanding their authorisation codes or threatening swift retribution. Rebecca acted quickly, keying in a sequence on her ship’s dash and sending it off with an expert flourish.

“Calm down, Sergeant,” she said in a cool tone, and her voice was run through a modulator so that it sounded low and raspy. “This is shuttle hotel charlie two five niner with the Third Fleet. I’ve been called from logistics as backup.”

A crackle of static followed, then, “Hotel charlie two five niner, you’re earlier than expected. You’re cleared for landing. Please proceed with caution. Do not engage hostiles until the rest of your squad arrives. I repeat: do not engage.”

Rebecca hit the button to respond. “Copy. Hotel charlie two five niner.”

And without further ado she began the sequence for final descent.

“Well,” said Owen. “That was efficient.”

Rebecca did not look up from where she was guiding the ship to the surface when she replied in a distracted tone, “I’m very good at my job.”

“Clearly,” Hannah said.

When they got within a certain distance from the planet, Dani straightened from her place jammed into Jamie’s side and tried to peer through the glass. The mountains of Alderaan were jagged caps of blue and grey and white. A rather dramatic landscape, if Jamie were being honest; she was far more interested in the way Dani pressed up against her seemingly without meaning to do so.

They swooped around a mountain peak, the spear-point parapets of House Thul coming into view. Below, people scurried about the ground like insects shooting pinpricks of red blaster fire at one another. The air was filled with enough smoke that it was difficult to make them out, but when Jamie squinted she could just see that the main doors had been breached and the attackers were attempting to push their way inside.

The ship was pinged by someone on the ground, and Rebecca accepted the transmission.

“Unidentified spacecraft,” growled a voice down the comm in an Imperial accent, “state your allegiance and business immediately, or we will not hesitate to shoot you from the sky.”

This time when Rebecca replied, she did not modulate her voice through the computer, though her tone was just as calm as before. Perhaps with a bit more of a bite. Definitely with a smoother Imperial accent that would’ve fooled Jamie herself if she hadn’t known what Rebecca really sounded like. “Corporal, this is Tau Gamma Three. If you delay my landing on the eastern high ground, I will report you to my Rear Admiral for contempt.”

The corporal responded very quickly, “My apologies, Commander. Your transponder code has just been confirmed. Please proceed with all haste. I will personally greet you on the ground and act as your escort.”

“Copy. Tau Gamma Three,” Rebecca said, then took her finger off the transmission button and whispered in her usual accent, “Fuck.”

“Think you over cooked it that time,” Jamie said.

Rebecca gave an exasperated shake of her head. “Damn boot-licking Imps.”

She guided the ship towards where Dani had indicated earlier, landing in a rumble and jerk before cutting the engines and unstrapping herself from the captain’s chair so she could be the first down the gangway.

“Let me handle this,” Rebecca told them.

She smacked the button to lower the gangway to the ground, while outside three people in Imperial grey strode up the hill towards the ship. One, the corporal, had a single red tab of rank on his chest, while the other two bore plasma rifles and shiny black chest plates. Jamie, Hannah, Owen, and Dani all squeezed themselves into a corner of the cockpit so they could peer out the side of the ship and watch.

The corporal saluted as Rebecca walked down the gangway, his mouth moving but his words unintelligible from where Jamie and the others watched. If Rebecca responded, they could not hear her. Without breaking stride, Rebecca unholstered the pistol at her waist and fired three shots. The corporal and one of the infantrymen dropped to the ground. The remaining infantryman fell, but turned over and tried to crawl towards where he had dropped his firearm. Rebecca stalked forward, stepped on his hand, and shot him in the back.

He stopped moving. A hole through his chest cavity smoked gently.

Turning back towards the ship, Rebecca saw them all gawking at her from the cockpit, and gestured for them to come out.

“Where did you meet her again?” Owen asked in a slow, slightly awed voice.

“Nar Shaddaa,” said Jamie.

“Huh.” Owen nodded. “You know, I don’t think you’re cool enough to be her friend.”

Jamie stepped on his foot and glared.

Rebecca was re-holstering her blaster pistol when they all emerged from the ship. “I did my job,” she said, then gave a nod to Dani. “Where to next?”

Dani pointed towards a building complex about five hundred meters away. “This way.”

Jamie made a gesture for her to lead, and Dani started off in the direction she had indicated. They walked briskly, and every time Jamie heard another blast in the distance — some Imperial or guardsman of House Thul throwing firepower at one another on the ground below — she winced and quickened her step. It was nice to see she wasn’t the only one, until the five of them were rushing into the guard complex, slightly out of breath.

When they reached the shut doors, Dani placed her hand on a panel. It scanned her biosignature and flashed green before the doors opened with a hiss of pressurised air. They ducked inside, and Jamie breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of fighting faded slightly through layers of metal.

“The checkpoint is just around the corner over -” Dani was saying as she led them further down a set of steps, but when she rounded the corner she froze.

Where before the entryway had been completely empty of people — signs of a great hurry evident, upended chairs and half eaten rations — now there was a single guardsman staring at them just down the hall. His face was white as a sheet, his livery of House Thul scuffed and scorched, and in his hands he clutched a blaster rifle, which he pointed at them.

“I don’t suppose you know him?” Owen asked in a low voice to Dani, who shook her head.

With raised hands, Jamie took a step forward and said, “We’re just here to -”

Before she could get more than a handful of syllables into a sentence however, the guard fired. Jamie flinched, squeezing her eyes shut, but the smell of acrid smoke and burning flesh never came. Instead there was only a strangely familiar buzzing sound. When she peeled open her eyes, one after the other, it was to find that Hannah had moved faster than the guard could pull the trigger. A dark scorch mark marred the floor beside her feet, and Hannah held the purple blade of her lightsabre extended at a perfect angle.

Hannah straightened, lowering her lightsabre but not sheathing the blade. The guard staggered back a step, hands trembling around his rifle.

He stared at them for a split second, and then fumbled for the comm unit strapped to his shoulder, pressing the transmit button. “This is Ardi in Post; I need -!”

Hannah waved her free hand, and his own hand suddenly wrenched away from the comm, both of his arms snapping to his side as though he were coming to attention. His wide panicked gaze dropped to his own arms, and he made a weak terrified noise when he could not move.

The comm at his shoulder crackled, and a voice said, “Come in, Ardi. What’s the problem?”

He opened his mouth, but Hannah spoke before he could do so much as squeak. Her voice was like a riptide, like a set of strings attached to a wooden frame. “You will not panic, and you will tell them nothing is wrong.”

The guardsman blinked at her, his eyes going fuzzy and unfocused, while his shoulders and jaw went strangely slack. Then his hand drifted up to the comm. He pushed the button and said in a flat tone, “Nothing is wrong.”

His hand dropped back to his side and he gazed blankly at Hannah for further instruction.

“You will go about your duty,” she said. “You did not see us.”

“I did not see you,” he mimicked in that same tone, then he strode forward, walking directly past them and continuing on his way. They turned to watch him go.

“Always creeps me out when you do that,” Jamie muttered.

Hannah sheathed her lightsabre, but kept the hilt at the ready. “Needs must. Miss Clayton, you were taking us inside?”

Dani snapped her mouth shut from where she had been gaping at the scene. “Oh,” she said, then started forward. “Right! Yes. We just need to go down this hall here.”

Thankfully, the next hall was completely empty. They jumped the barriers at the checkpoint and continued down another hallway leading to a set of armour-reinforced doors, which Dani opened with the press of her hand. The doors slid open, and suddenly they were face to face with a whole squad of Imperial soldiers.

Jamie didn’t know who was more shocked to see the other. Them. Or the Imperials. One member of the squad was kneeling down by the corner of the door, trying to hack his way through the system to get the doors open.

Jamie shot him, while at the same time Dani slammed her hand back down on the bioscanner to shut the doors before the Imperials could react.

“Right,” said Rebecca, who had also taken out her blaster pistol and was ready to fire at the next thing that moved. “Any other ways in?”

Dani shook her head.

“Front door?” Owen offered.

With a low groan, Jamie shifted her grip upon her blaster pistol and jerked her head at Owen and Hannah. “Knights up front.”

Sighing, Hannah and Owen nevertheless dutifully stepped forward and unsheathed their sabres, purple and blue blades between the two of them.

Dani hovered her hand over the bioscanner, but hadn’t unsheathed her own lightsabre. “Is this really the best idea?”

“Too late now,” Jamie grumbled.

“I told you,” said Rebecca.

“Shut it.”

“Open it,” Hannah said to Dani in an exasperated tone of voice.

Dani did so. All of the Imperials had retreated to find cover behind massive pillars and big statues that lined the great hall. The moment Jamie saw one of their stupid grey caps poking around a pillar, she took aim over Owen’s shoulder and fired. Bloody Imps fired back, and soon the air was filled with a volley of blaster fire ricocheting off stone pillars and archways, sending chips of stone spinning across the floor.

Hannah and Owen deflected anything coming their way with an almost lazy indifference, as though they were swatting a few pesky flies out of the sky. An Imperial soldier was hit by his own blaster fire and fell to the ground. Jamie nailed another one in the shoulder, and he swore loudly, crouching back behind cover.

Ducking down slightly, Rebecca nudged Hannah’s shoulder. “Can you two advance? Slowly?”

Owen nodded and the two of them walked forward in step with one another, deflecting incoming blaster fire as they went. Realising what was happening, the Imperial squadron began to panic. A handful tried to make a run for another pillar further along the hallway in an attempt to put ground between them and leaving behind a few of their injured peers in the process. Owen reached out his hand, made a pulling motion, and it were as though three of the fleeing soldiers were yanked back on wires. Hannah chucked her lightsabre — Jamie really couldn’t think of a more eloquent way to describe it apart from ‘chucked’ — and the blade went spinning forward through the air, slicing clean through the soldiers before returning straight to her hand in time for her to sweep aside another attack.

The only soldier left alive was the one Jamie had shot in the shoulder. He was pressing a hand to his wound, sitting on the ground with his legs sprawled and his back leaning against a pillar base. Rebecca rounded the pillar and cocked her blaster pistol.

“Please,” the soldier whimpered.

“Don’t try that shit with me,” Rebecca hissed. “I know what you do to POWs.”

When she raised her pistol as though to whip him with it, he flinched, but the blow never came. Hannah had reached out and the air seemed to solidify into a jelly that held back Rebecca’s arm.

“Miss Jessel,” said Hannah, “Forgive me, but I will not be complicit in the mistreatment of prisoners of war.”

The muscles stood out on Rebecca’s jaw, but she nodded and the sensation of being held underwater rushed from the air. Jamie felt at her own chest and cleared her throat.

“Is it safe to come out yet?” asked a distant voice.

With a frown Jamie turned to find that Dani had remained behind in the hallway, and her head was poking through the door, peering left and right for any sign of lingering danger. Jamie waved her over and Dani quickly crossed the room to stand beside her.

Meanwhile Rebecca shook her head and holstered her blaster pistol. “Last time I saw you, you made mince of seasoned soldiers.”

Ducking her head, Dani shrugged her shoulders uncomfortably, her grip tight around the unlit hilt of her lightsabre. “I wasn’t really myself then.”

“Clearly.”

Jamie nudged the injured soldier with the toe of her boot. “Oi. Where’s the Sith gone?”

At the mere mention of the Sith, his face went pale, his dark eyes glancing between the five of them standing over him. His voice trembled when he spoke. “We - We were just supposed to hold ground behind him.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Owen assured him. “Just tell us which way he went.”

The Imperial soldier lifted a shaking hand and pointed at a door further along the hallway, branching to the left. Dani sucked in a sharp breath.

“What’s that way?” Jamie asked.

“Lord and Lady Wingrave’s quarters,” said Dani.

“There are others,” the soldier said. “My squad was just supposed to flush out any stragglers.”

“Any other way in?” asked Rebecca.

“Uh -” Dani bit her lower lip and glanced about the great hall. “That wing has been shut for years, but I think - I think so. Yes.”

Jamie made a shooing gesture. “Lead the way.”

“What about me?” said the Imperial soldier.

“Owen?” said Hannah.

“Right,” said Owen, and he leaned down to tap the soldier aside the head, upon which the soldier immediately slumped, head lolling to one side, fast asleep.

“Useful, that,” Jamie mused. “Can you do that to me next time I’ve had too much stimcaf late in the evening?”

“Only if you want a migraine when you wake up,” Owen said dryly.

“Mmm. On second thought -”

“Come on, you two,” Rebecca said in exasperation, already following closely after Dani and Hannah down another hallway.

Leaving the wreckage of the main hall, they hurried after their guide. Dani led them through twisting corridors and broad rooms, the house like a vast labyrinth of doors sprawling in all directions. At one point they passed through what was clearly a little girl’s room — at least, if all the dolls and the miniature estate were any indication. Jamie accidentally trod on something, and she glanced down.

It was a handmade doll. Pale-skinned. Grey-robed. Long and dark-haired. And completely faceless.

With a faint shudder, Jamie kicked the doll aside and continued after Dani who had taken them to — of all places — a walk in closet. At the far end of the closet was a floor-length mirror. Dani froze so suddenly that Jamie almost walked into the back of her.

“What’s -?” Jamie started to ask but never finished.

Looking over Dani’s shoulder, she could see all of them reflected in the glass, except Dani. In her stead, a grey-gowned shadow with a face worn smooth by time and memory.

“Dani,” Jamie murmured, staring at the reflection. When she touched the small of Dani’s back, Dani jolted and the apparition vanished like a wisp of smoke.

“It’s fine,” said Dani too quickly, her voice tight as a clenched fist.

“Is something wrong?” Owen asked, peering over the tops of their heads for a better look.

“No,” Dani insisted. “It’s nothing.”

Feeling vaguely sick, Jamie opened her mouth to speak, but Dani had already stepped forward, approaching the mirror with a trembling outstretched hand. A press of her fingers and the mirror swung forward on hidden hinges, revealing a dark passageway yawning beyond it. Inside there echoed the sounds of blaster fire, of grenades and men screaming in the distance.

“Yeah - uh - no offense,” said Rebecca, “but I do not want to go in there.”

Dani steeled herself and took a step inside. When she peered back at them, one of her eyes gleamed golden and owlish from the shadows. “It’s the only shortcut to the Lord and Lady’s wing. I discovered it by accident one day.”

And without further ado, she turned and vanished into the narrow warren. When the others all stepped forward to follow Dani into the darkness, Rebecca groaned and trailed after them. Jamie lost all sight when Rebecca shut the mirror behind them. Owen unsheathed his lightsabre, holding it up into the air to light the way as though he were carrying a blue torch. Dani was already far ahead, walking without the aid of light, a silhouette through the murk.

The sounds of battle grew louder the further they delved. At one point Jamie nearly jumped out of her skin when a bang made the wall to her immediate left vibrate and shed flecks of plaster.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jamie gasped, clutching her chest in one hand and her blaster pistol in the other. “Can we please get out of here? I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Dani walked a few more steps, then stopped before a section of wall that looked like all the other sections of wall. That was until Owen drew close enough that the light from his sabre revealed the faint outline of an old mechanical panel. Dani placed her hand upon it and glanced over her shoulder at the others.

“Ready?”

Hannah pushed the button to unsheathe her lightsabre, and she and Owen took up post on either side of Dani, while Rebecca and Jamie stood behind them, blasters at the ready. Dani gave Jamie a questioning look, waiting for a nod before she drew a deep breath and twisted the panel to a horizontal position.

The wall rumbled slightly, then swung outward with a groan of hinges. The room beyond was not, as Jamie had originally suspected, a bedroom. Instead it was a sprawling lounge. Once lush and wood-panelled, the walls lined with old paintings, now filled with smoke and blaster fire. Guardsmen in House Thul colours scrambled to hold ground in this last bastion of the manor, while Imperial soldiers crowded the only entrance chokepoint.

Neither side had yet noticed the ragtag group of Jedi, smugglers, a gardener and a governess that had walked through an enormous painting along the wall.

Jamie didn’t need to be told this time where the Sith had gone; it was clearly evident in the path of destruction in his wake. Dead guardsmen in various states of dismemberment. Great gouges raked along the floor and walls, the stone still simmering with the faint glow of embers. A pillar had been cut completely in half and was sprawled along the ground. The room was a scarred and smoking ruin barely clinging to life, leading up a set of sweeping stone staircases, and the path curving out of sight beyond a cavalcade of slashed portraits.

“Rebecca,” said Hannah in a brook-no-nonsense tone. “With me. We will hold off the Imperial troops. The rest of you -” She looked at the three of them, ending with a softer glance towards Owen. “Find the children. And come back to me.”

Owen nodded and his moustache twitched in a tell tale smile. Then he looked back at Jamie and Dani, jerking his head towards the staircase. “Follow me.”

Rebecca was already going through the motions of checking her blaster pistol to ensure it would shoot without error.

“Are you keen to kill a few Imperials, Miss Jessel?” Hannah asked, sounding amused.

Rebecca smiled and cocked the pistol. “Always.”

Hannah made a gesture towards the fight. “After you.”

And they were off to the races. Jamie shook her head after them, then followed Owen, who was already hurrying up the stairs with Dani. There were no soldiers here, neither Imperial nor Thulian. The door to the sleeping quarters was open, and the sound of muted conversation issued forth, as of two people discussing a mundane topic over a drink. Steeling herself, Jamie stepped into the room just behind Owen and Dani.

The room sprawled, as large and opulent as the rest of the estate. A four poster bed stood proudly at the far end. Portraits continued to dot the walls at all levels. There were a few armchairs and a plush couch, and in the centre of the very room, two men.

The Sith wore a black and fully self-contained suit, complete with a red-eyed mask and tubes that hooked over his neck and shoulder into some sort of apparatus at his back. Jamie had only ever seen someone wear an outfit like this once before, and it was to combat the Rakghoul plague on Taris. His speech was interspersed with sporadic coughing fits, but his movements were steady. He held up Lord Wingrave in the air with the Force as easily as though holding up a cup of tea.

“You cannot hide them forever,” he was saying, his voice altered through a respirator. “I will tear this manor apart, limb from limb. And that gift which to others hath been a boon shall to you be a very bane."

Owen hefted his lightsabre and said in a commanding tone, “Let him go.”

The Sith glanced over his shoulder and turned. The eyes of his mask were scarlet half-moons that gleamed through the darkly paneled space. Behind him Lord Wingrave continued to choke, face purpling.

The Sith tilted his head, sizing up his unexpected company. Then to Jamie’s shock and confusion, the Sith bowed to them — or, rather, to Dani.

"My Lady," he said, straightening. "Your presence humbles me. We shall find for you a more suitable host in due course."

Dani stared at him in absolute horror, saying nothing.

Owen stepped forward. “Your fight is with us, not him.” Owen gestured towards Lord Wingrave with his lightsabre, and he repeated, “Let him go.”

“But of course,” said the Sith. He unsheathed his lightsabre — red as a bloody dawn — and held it to the side so that when he released the Force, Lord Wingrave fell directly upon the blade.

Dani cried out, but Jamie held her back before she could move forward. Lord Wingrave slumped, his body pierced completely through the chest. He choked on an inhalation, and then the Sith deactivated the lightsabre, and Lord Wingrave crumpled to the floor.

The Sith stepped over his body, approaching them and coughing, a wet and sickly rattling of his lungs. When he spoke, he addressed Dani alone, as though she were the only person in the room. “The Force has brought you to my side. And I will not let such an opportunity slip between my fingers.”

At the front of the group, Owen kept looking between the approaching Sith and the man dying in his wake. He did not turn around to ask Jamie, “Think you handle this?”

Jamie glanced at Lord Wingrave. His chest was still rising and falling, but his breaths were shallow and growing weaker by the second.

“No,” said Jamie. “But go anyway. I’ll cover you.”

With a nod, Owen sprinted forward. Jamie fired several shots at the Sith, not aiming to hit, just to distract. The Sith, of course, deflected every blaster fire with his lightsabre as though batting aside a particularly irritable fly. However the cover fire served its purpose, and Owen was able to slip by without the Sith engaging him in combat directly.

Indeed, the Sith seemed utterly uninterested in anything else in the room that wasn’t Dani. He continued to stride forward, steps slow and sure and steady as the tide. Behind him, Owen dragged Lord Wingrave into the far corner beside the bed, lightsabre sheathed, and began to tend his wounds. Jamie wasn’t well versed in the healing arts — never would be, truth be told — and honestly it seemed like all Owen was doing was meditating beside Lord Wingrave’s body. Must’ve done something, though. At least, she hoped it did.

And all the while, the Sith was striding towards them with singular intent.

"You can start shooting again now," Dani muttered to Jamie.

"Do you remember blaster fire being useful against you?" Jamie asked, incredulous, even as she holstered her pistol.

“No,” said Dani. Even so, she pulled out her lightsabre hilt, ready to unsheathe the blade at a moment’s notice.

The Sith stopped a few paces away. Close enough that Jamie could see the scars on his armour, the ragged hems of his robes, the piercing quality of his mask’s eyes. When he spoke, it was only to Dani, as though Jamie weren’t there at all.

“Your love for these people makes you weak. You are ruled by your own fear, rather than taking control of it. If only you had the stomach,” he hissed. “You could be so much more. But as you are, you’re not fit to play host to The Lady.”

Dani’s hands trembled around the hilt of the lightsabre, but her voice was steady and clear. “You know nothing about me.”

The Sith’s laughter was broken by coughing, his broad shoulders shaking, yet for all that he never appeared any less commanding a presence. “Your emotions betray you. Lay you bare. I can taste your fear, feel your anger.”

He circled round her with slow footsteps and Dani turned to follow him with the tip of her lightsabre. She shook her head, eyes unyielding, jaw tightly held.

“No?” he asked, his tone amused through the rasp of his respirator. “Then, prove me wrong.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jamie said, low and warning. She could see the way Dani’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, but otherwise Dani did nothing.

“What are you waiting for?” he growled, and in a motion too quick to follow he hefted his lightsabre — the blade a darker, muddier red beside the pure crimson of Dani’s kyber — and slashed at Dani’s feet with a snarl, making her leap back and leaving a smouldering furrow in the ground. “Strike me down!”

Dani regained her footing and brought her lightsabre back up into a defensive position.

“I will kill all you hold dear. I will make you watch as they die. I will take you to my master on Dromund Kaas as a prize, and you will know such suffering. Until we pry the soul from your lungs. Until the very end.” The Sith stalked to and fro like a great animal pacing its enclosure, dragging the tip of his lightsabre on the ground behind him so that sparks scattered at his footsteps. “Your name will be a blight on this house, a mark of its end. I will find these children and make them instruments of the Dark, and they will know that you were the reason why.”

Hands tightening around the hilt of her sabre, Dani’s eyes darted away from him and towards one of the paintings hung low on the far wall. The Sith paused, then followed her gaze.

“There you are,” he murmured.

He reached out a hand and the painting was ripped from its hidden hinges on the wall, revealing a small chamber beyond, just enough for people to hide objects of value. Except in this case, there were two children huddled and crouched. The elder of the two — a boy — saw Lord Wingrave sprawled on the ground, attended to by Owen, and he cried out, “Uncle Henry!”

“Miles, don’t -!” Dani shouted.

The Sith caught him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him close. Miles struggled and kicked, but the Sith’s grip was iron.

“My, look at you,” the Sith said, tilting his head as though appraising a piece of fine jewelry. “So wrathful for one so small.”

Miles tried to claw at the Sith’s respirator, and for this he was backhanded so hard he staggered and fell, clutching his cheek. Both Dani and Jamie took an abortive step forward. His sister raced forward to make sure he was all right.

The Sith gestured to the children behind him. “New apprentices for my master. Or perhaps, only one is needed.”

When he raised his lightsabre, Dani moved before Jamie could stop her. She caught the blade with her own, parrying it aside and putting herself between him and the children, lightsabre raised and ready, eyes hard. The Sith tested the edge of Dani’s blade, the sound of two lightsabres running against one another like nothing else, electrifying the very air, and they began to circle around one another like a pair of vultures over a carcass.

The Sith moved with the swiftness of a snake, striking with sure movements that Dani could barely deflect, her brow pinched in concentration. As they moved about the room, Jamie sprinted forward, avoiding the fight so she could crouch down beside the children.

Miles was fine, though addled and shaken. His breath came shallowly and he trembled more from fear than anything else. The girl meanwhile was putting on a brave face.

“Hey. Hi. I’m Jamie,” she said, slightly breathless. “Can you stand?” she asked Miles.

He nodded, but struggled to do so. She picked him up and half carried him towards a more sheltered corner, urging the young girl to follow her closely. Jamie checked Miles for any other wounds, but there was nothing but the bruise blooming across his cheek.

“You’ll be right,” she murmured, cupping said cheek and giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

Behind her, Dani was losing ground, giving ground, defending rather than attacking. The Sith seemed to be toying with her, darting his blade in various directions to see how she would react, testing the waters and thoroughly enjoying himself if his creepy fucking laughter was any indication.

“Stay here,” Jamie said in a low tone to the kids, eyes fixed upon the Sith.

Her blaster pistol was next to useless in a fight like this. Jamie patted herself down. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her slacks and withdrew the small mining laser. Its blade extended maybe only a few centimeters in length, bright green and hot.

Glancing up, Jamie watched as Dani and the Sith circled one another like two wary predators. She adjusted the mining laser in her grip and waited until the Sith’s back was to her. Then, drawing a deep steadying breath, she rushed forward before her courage could fail, and stabbed into his back. The laser’s tip pierced through one of the hoses wrapped around his neck and shoulder. Instead of oxygen leaking out, a billow of sickly yellow smoke streamed from the ruptured section of hose, smelling strongly of sulphur. With a snarl, the Sith turned and slashed his lightsabre in a raking blow. Jamie ducked to the side but not fast enough.

The last time Jamie had been on the wrong end of a lightsabre wound, it had burned a hole straight through her shoulder as though her bones were made of softened butter. This was a similar experience, and one she had hoped to never feel again. The tip of the lightsabre whipped up, missing her arm and torso, and instead scoring her face.

A flare of white-hot pain. Jamie flinched and scrambled away, nearly losing her footing and only managing to catch herself on the edge of an armchair. The mining laser clattered to the floor. One hand reached up to test the left side of her face, and she grit back a hiss through her teeth. She had shut her eyes reflexively and was now afraid to open them for fear that one might not work anymore. Tentatively she peeled them open — one after the other. Her left eye stung, unable to see through the curtain of blood dripping down her face. She blinked and tried to wipe the blood away, but stopped when she accidentally touched the wound slashed from brow to cheek.

“Are you okay?” asked a small voice through the din, close by.

The boy, Miles, had crawled over to check on her, his face pale. Jamie nodded and tried to stand up, but felt woozy. Flashes of red and animalistic snarls. With her right eye Jamie could just make out two figures fighting tooth and nail in the centre of the room.

Where before Dani had never attacked, now she never defended. Her lightsabre struck out, sharp and sweeping and reckless, always advancing, always taking ground, always seeking an opening, demanding an opening, finding an opening. The Sith stumbled back with a desperate parry, the air like a painting itself streaked with the red of their sabres and the yellow of sulphur and the bright, crucible gold of Dani’s gaze. And it was cold, a cold so deep Jamie could feel it congeal the blood on her face.

Dani thrust out her hand, a wave of the Force slamming into his chest and forcing the Sith back until he was cornered against the foot of the four-poster bed. He held his lightsabre up to deflect another attack, but could not move as Dani rained down blow after wailing blow. No art to it now. Just mad ferocity. Hacking at him as if with an axe, teeth-bared, hair wild, terrifying to behold.

“Shit.” Jamie kept a hand on Miles’ shoulder, putting herself between him and the scene unfolding even as she fought the urge to shrink back, to grab him and run for the exit.

Something darted just under Jamie’s sight, a flurry of movement past her bad eye. Before she could stop her, Flora raced over and jumped atop the bed, wide-eyed and terrified. “Stop it! Miss Clayton, Stop!”

Dani froze, panting, lightsabre lifted overhead, mid-swing. She blinked, her face slackened, and she slowly lowered the lightsabre with a small shake of her head. The Sith at her feet was wheezing, wracked with intermittent coughs as the gas in his suit bled out. And when her guard was lowered just fractionally too much, he let out a sound like a growl and stabbed.

Dani swept her lightsabre down in time to block the attack. What exchanged was a brief flurry of action so fast Jamie could scarcely follow it. Parry, riposte, and then they were poised in trembling finality, Dani’s lightsabre struck through his chest in a killing blow.

The Sith’s hand trembled. He reached forward to clutch her close by the shoulder and whisper something in Dani’s ear. Jamie couldn’t hear what he said. She could only see the way Dani’s eyes widened, the way Dani sheathed the lightsabre and caught him before his body could fall to the ground, lowering him gently into death.

Jamie let go of Miles, and he raced forward towards his uncle, kneeling beside him. Owen seemed to come from a trance, looking pale and exhausted. When Henry took a deep breath and sat up, Miles made a sound both choked and relieved, hugging him tight. Meanwhile, Lord Wingrave grimaced in pain, barely able to do more than wrap an arm around his nephew and send Owen a confused glance.

Mopping up the side of her face with the sleeve of her shirt, Jamie stepped forward. Dani was still kneeling on the ground, supporting the weight of the Sith with a dazed expression on her face. The young Wingrave girl sat crouched on the bed, trembling and frozen in place. Jamie touched Dani’s shoulder, feeling the tense of muscle there, and urge her to stand upright so she could bring her into a swift and fierce hug. Dani breathed harshly in her ear, sounding dazed, sounding thready and disbelieving.

“I’ve got you,” Jamie said. “I’ve got you. Well done.”

Dani reached out a hand and pulled the Wingrave girl into the hug until the three of them stood there in vaguely puzzled bliss, unsure of how exactly they had escaped, unscathed.

When Dani let go, the Wingrave girl jumped down from the bed to join her brother beside Owen, the three of them checking on her uncle. Dani’s gaze followed them, looking pained, even guilty.

“Hey,” Jamie said, drawing Dani’s attention. She pointed at her own face. “We match.”

For a moment Dani simply blinked at her in confusion until Jamie indicated her own fucked up eye. Then Dani laughed, shocked, brief, and belly-deep. She reached up and gently stroked the side of Jamie’s face, her expression pained. “I’m sorry.”

“Some things are more important,” said Jamie, lifting her hand to cover Dani’s. “Like: does it make me look dashing?”

With another incredulous laugh, Dani leaned forward instead of answering and kissed her. Jamie winced when Dani’s nose brushed against the burn on her cheek.

“Ow.”

“Sorry! Sorry.”

Dani pulled back and tried to pull her hand away as well, but Jamie held it where it was so she could press her lips to the centre of Dani’s palm.

Owen was urging Lord Wingrave to his feet when Hannah strode into the room. Her lightsabre was hooked back onto her belt. She had a few marks on her otherwise pristine burgundy robes, evidence of the fight she and Rebecca had endured on the front lines. Rebecca herself was in deep conversation with a Thulian guardsman near the exit.

Dani spared Jamie a rare smile before she rushed over to Henry and the others when Jamie let her go. Touching the wounded side of her face, Jamie blinked through a layer of crusted blood and was gratified to find she could, in fact, see through her left eye.

“How’d you get on?” she asked as Hannah stopped before her.

“All’s quiet on the front,” answered Hannah. “The Imperial invasion of House Thul has been thoroughly cast aside.”

“Happy fuckin’ days,” said Jamie, still exploring the wound on her face with a tentative press of her fingertips.

“You look a little worse for wear,” Hannah replied, cocking her head to one side. “Though you seem to have done the job.”

Lowering her hands, Jamie gave a bitter laugh. “Not me. All Dani. I just stood there like a muppet half the time. And got injured, to boot.”

Hannah made a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Pasha and his Troopers were looking for a Sith assassin.” She nudged the dead Sith’s robes with the toe of her boot. “This looks like a Sith assassin to me.”

“Yeah, but they were looking for someone of Dani’s description.”

“Unfortunate that,” Hannah sighed. “How easy it is for innocent people to be pulled into the undertow of Sith machinations. Lord Wingrave will say nothing of her, I’m sure; his debt is too great. The children are young; they will forget. And the overwhelming evidence will say that Danielle Clayton was never here.”

Jamie stared down at the Sith corpse before her. She mused over the possibility of tearing off his mask and looking upon his face, before coming to the conclusion that she would rather not know. That he was better in her memories as this — the awful caricature that he wished to be perceived as. With a shake of her head, Jamie tore her gaze away in favour of watching Dani across the room.

Dani talking to the children. Dani talking with Owen. Dani tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and standing with hands clasped gently before her and an auspicious smile on her face.

"Such a small thing. Such a little thing to house the echo of a soul," Hannah mused beside her. "It's got me to wondering about our dear friend Miss Clayton."

Jamie made a noise to indicate she was listening, even while both their eyes remained training on Dani, watching her chat with Owen and Lord Wingrave.

"Holocrons, you see," continued Hannah, "wouldn't make for very good receptacles of secret knowledge if they could be opened by just anyone. To open one requires use of the Force. A great deal of it, I might add."

With a jerk, Jamie tore her gaze from Dani to stare at Hannah. Then she turned her head back towards Dani, who was now crouching down to talk to one of the children — the little girl. Jamie watched as the girl threw her arms around Dani’s neck and something flickered, gold and bright, in Dani’s eye, her expression unreadable before she relaxed and returned the hug with an easy warmth.

“Does she know?" Jamie asked.

Hannah shrugged. "I have hinted at it, but thought it best to leave it at that for now. She should come to this realisation on her own. I'm telling you, because in the future the two of you might want to explore what she is."

"And what is she?"

Hannah smiled. "Herself, of course."

Across the room, Rebecca gestured from the main entryway and called out. “Pubs incoming. We should get a move on.”

Dani straightened, hand lingering on the girl’s shoulder. She nudged Flora towards Owen, who was now talking directly to the Wingrave boy. Meanwhile Henry took the opportunity to pull Dani into a grateful hug of his own, making Dani go rigid all over then laugh nervously and pat his shoulder. As Jamie watched her, she felt something warm in her chest unspool.

Beside her there came a slight cough. Glancing at Hannah with a frown, Jamie said, “What?”

Looking like she was trying to bite back a smile, Hannah shook her head. “Nothing,” she said, one hand toying with a gold earring. “Just nice to see you so unsurly for once. She’s a good influence on you, that one.”

Jamie narrowed her eyes. She nudged Hannah’s elbow with her own and grumbled, “Shut it.”

Hannah chuckled, a low warm sound. When Jamie started towards the exit as well, Hannah did not follow.

Jamie stopped. “You coming?”

With an all-encompassing gesture towards their ruined surroundings, Hannah said, “Someone has to stay behind and spin a tale for the Republic Troopers. And doubtless there’ll be paperwork for Owen and I to fill out regarding our new Temple initiates.”

Jamie nodded. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You and I both know that’s not how this works, dear.”

“Right.” Jamie gave a rueful shake of her head and rubbed at the new scars on her face; they itched something fierce. “More Jedi bantha shit.”

Rather than take umbrage with Jamie’s word choice, Hannah simply made an amused sound in the back of her throat. “The fact you think that doesn’t apply to you after all these years -” Hannah trailed off and waved Jamie away. “Laughable. Really.”

Jamie backed away towards the door in lazy strides. “We’ll see you soon?”

“You had better,” Hannah replied in a warning tone. “Three years of nothing but pre-recorded postcards? The gall.”

With a laugh, Jamie blew Hannah a kiss — which earned her an exasperated roll of Hannah’s eyes — before finally turning and walking towards the exit, headlong. Dani stood just outside the doorway, waiting. When Jamie drew near enough, Dani tangled their fingers together and gave Jamie a tremulous smile.

“Okay?” Dani asked.

Jamie squeezed Dani’s hand. “Yeah. Perfect.”

Dani reached up but did not actually touch Jamie’s face. “We should probably get this looked at.”

“Later,” said Jamie with a dismissive shrug. “I bet Jane can’t wait to hold my head under a kolto tank until I drown.”

“Jane likes you,” Dani insisted, dragging Jamie along so that the two walked after Rebecca and out of House Thul.

“Do they, though?”

“Well,” said Dani, then she paused in consideration. “I think so, anyway.”

Guardsmen of House Thul scurried about. They were taking prisoners and speaking into comm units to — presumably — incoming Republic troops. Dani and Jamie slipped past them all, doing their best to avoid all and any notice. Nobody stopped them, just as nobody stopped Rebecca, until the three of them had left the manor and stood before Rebecca’s ship. The three Imperial soldiers were still sprawled on the ground from when Rebecca had shot them. The Corporal’s eyes were glassy, his muscles rigid in death.

When they had reached the ship proper, Rebecca holstered her pistol and turned. “Guess this is it,” she said.

Jamie stopped and squinted at her friend. "If I hug you, are you going to taser me again?"

"Depends on where you put your hands." With a laugh, Rebecca pulled her into a hug, arms wrapped tightly around Jamie’s shoulders. Jamie returned the gesture, tucking her face into Rebecca’s shoulder before stepping away.

"I really need to dash before either the Pubs or Imps find out I've been here." Rebecca grasped Jamie's shoulder. "We even, now?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go on, then. Wait -" Jamie said when Rebecca took a step back. "How are we supposed to get off the surface without you?"

Rebecca made a vague gesture to the sky. "Jane has a transport shuttle. Just call for it."

"Jane has a transport shuttle?"

"Good grief, Jamie. I gave you one of my favourite ships. The least you could do is talk to it."

"I'll think about it." Jamie grinned when Rebecca rolled her eyes. "We'll probably head off to -"

"Ah, ah!" Rebecca shook her head and mimed covering one ear. "Don't tell me. It's better if I don't know."

Her dark eyes drifted over Jamie’s shoulder. Jamie heard light footsteps approaching, and Dani stepped up beside her. She smiled at Rebecca. “Just thought I should say thank you, before you go.”

“My pleasure. Really.” Rebecca held out her hands. “Don’t suppose you want a hug, too?”

With a shake of her head, Dani nevertheless stepped forward, smiling into the hug. Rebecca patted Dani on the back, her hand getting tangled up in Dani’s nanosilk cloak.

Laughing, Rebecca stepped away, untangling her hand from Dani’s cloak. “How you manage to fight with that thing on is a miracle.”

Dani straightened the cloak around her shoulders, grinning broadly. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“From what I understand, luck has nothing to do with it.” Rebecca glanced between Dani and Jamie, her smile softening. Behind her, her ship lowered its gangway. Rebecca lifted her hand and touched her brow in a jaunty sort of salute. “Don’t be strangers.”

Dani waved as Rebecca turned and boarded her ship. The gangway retracted behind her and the ship sealed itself. Jamie watched through the transparisteel windows of the cockpit as Rebecca strapped herself into the captain’s chair. The engines revved to life and with a burn of fuel, the ship rose up into the air, and she was gone.

Jamie fished out a handheld transponder from her pocket. "Jane?"

The ship's computer spoke through the little speaker. "How may I be of assistance?"

"We need to get off the surface. Think you can help?"

"I am sending a transport shuttle now. Estimated time of arrival: two minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Please stand by."

Lowering the transponder, Jamie pocketed it right beside the small mining laser. Dani had her head tipped back to look at the sky to watch Rebecca’s ship go, shielding her face from the watery sunlight with the flat of her hand. With a smudge of dirt across her cheek and her hair a-tumble, standing amidst the rubble of a warzone, she was perfect.

"Do you think it's warm on Corsin?" Dani asked idly. When Jamie did not answer, Dani lowered her hand and tipped her chin back down to face her. She blinked in confusion. "What are you looking at?"

The cold mountain breeze toyed with the long curls of Dani's hair that had come loose during the fight. With a smile, Jamie gave a slow disbelieving shake of her head. Then she reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind Dani's ear.

“You,” she said. “Just you.”

—

The ship’s engines hummed steadily. Rebecca had set the computer to control autopilot, and now stood over a small table in what was supposed to be the dining area. She never used it for that. Only for storage. The place was littered with things most people would pass over with a sniff of disdain, but which years of experience had taught her could get her out of a bad scrap in a pinch.

The table was cleared of everything except the frame of a square object, small enough to sit in the palm of her hand and made of a black gold metal. Inscriptions had been carved into each triangular section, the pieces carefully assembled into a diminutive and unassuming box. Reaching into her pocket, Rebecca pulled out a final triangular piece. For a moment she turned it over between her fingers, then set it carefully into place, so that the holocron was once more complete.

The holocron hummed, filled with a brief intense light, then went out like a snuffed candle.

“Well,” said Rebecca softly. “Shit.”

Behind her a light blinked at the terminal dash. With a grimace, Rebecca looked around before slinging a spare jacket over the holocron to hide it. When she touched it even through the fabric however, she could still feel a faint hum that tingled through her palm and all the way up her arm, an intense numbing itch. Shaking her hand free of the sensation, Rebecca turned around. She ran a hand over her hair and clothes to ensure her appearance was somewhat tidy. Then with a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and pressed a blinking button on the terminal. She tucked her hands smartly behind her back and lifted her chin as a holo flickered to life.

The projection was life-sized. A towering figure all in black. Black robes. Black hood. Face hidden utterly behind a black mask. Rebecca set her jaw and swallowed, tamping down the unsettling urge to look the figure in the eye, even though there were no eyes to look at. And though there were whole solar systems between them, she could not shake herself of the feeling that if the figure reached out, they could grab her by the neck and hoist her up into the air as easily as if she were a child’s toy doll.

When the figure spoke, their voice was deep and crackling through the speakers of their mask. “Have you recovered the holocron?”

Rebecca kept her hands clasped behind her back, her gaze kept straight ahead at a space just over the figure’s shoulder. “Yes, my Lord."

“And?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It seems to be inactive, now that The Lady no longer resides within it.”

“I find that disappointing,” said the figure.

A brief terrifying silence followed, during which Rebecca counted her heartbeats, wondering when they would stop. She squeezed her hands together behind her back when the figure started to speak again.

“Where is the host now?”

“I do not know,” Rebecca answered.

The figure tipped their head slightly to one side and a red light gleamed across the mask. “Are you lying to me, Agent Jessel?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Quint thought he was a good liar. You’re not under such delusions, are you?”

“No, my Lord,” she repeated.

Behind her, she swore she could feel the holocron hum. She had to dig her fingernails into the palm of the hand that had touched it through layers of cloth to ground herself. The figure’s head jerked towards the sensation, sightless gaze watching the space behind Rebecca as though they could see beyond the simple holo of herself she would have projected in return. Most days she was confident in the fact that she had coded her holo to not give away any of her surroundings, no matter where she was. Today, she was not so sure.

The figure looked back at her. “You will return to Drommund Kaas to receive further instruction.”

“And the Jedi?”

“Are none of your concern, Agent. Report back immediately for a full debrief.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The holo flickered out of view. Only once the light had stopped blinking on the dash did Rebecca allow herself to breathe properly again. She inhaled deeply and shook her head. Then she turned and pulled the jacket off of the holocron.

It was still unlit, but it hummed gently.

With one last look at it, Rebecca left the room and returned to the cockpit. She sat in the captain’s chair, keying in commands with practised ease.

The coordinates to Dromund Kaas were set, and she hit the jump command to hyperspace.

#thobm #the haunting of bly manor #star wars #dami #dani clayton/jamie #no great revelation #roman writes

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the-young-and-forgotten · 3 years

Text

A Glimpse Through the Years - 2nd Year

| Masterlist |

1st of September 1992 - 2nd Year:

The summer holidays had been even more boring than the christmas ones (and that was saying something). There were loads of formal parties and not nearly enough fun to be had. You never thought you would admit it but you were glad school was back but also… it was Hogwarts.

Waving off your brother and mum, you step through the barrier once again. You close your eyes and tilt your face up as a feeling of relief and extreme nervousness washes over you.

You hear the faint sound of your name being called, then you felt persistent tapping on your shoulder. You spin around and come face to face with a… paper bag?

“I took care of my face!” the bag says. You slowly realise who it was and burst into laughter. Draco was standing there, a paper brown bag over his head. You lift it off and smile at his blushing face. You turn the bag over in your hands, it was distinctly muggle. “How the heck did you even get one of these?” He does jazz hands and puts on an over-excited smile “MaGiC!!”

You shake your head at his antics, grabbing his arm and pulling him along beside you. “Lets go before someone steals our compartment.” You weave your way through the crowd, tripping up a lot of people and apologising every second.

It took forever to get on that train and by the time you actually got on it, Draco looked extremely aggravated. Not knowing what else to do, you start to apologise. “If i hear you say sorry one more time. You are unfriended once again.” “Who said we were ever friends?” you tease, before running down the train laughing your head off. He charges after you, looking like an angry bull. You decide to irk him further, which is probably not a good idea. “Woah there Draco! You look a bit Gryffindorrish to me!”

He catches up to you and pulls you to a stop just outside the compartment you wanted. “Oh? to be a Slytherin I must have no emotions?” “Well I mean, your ‘family’ will be proud” He makes a disgusted face and pulls open the compartment door then turns to face you, “But are you proud of me?” “More than anything Dray!” You laugh, pulling him in.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at Draco questioning why Potter wasn’t at the Feast. You couldn’t help but be a little curious as well. Where was he? Is he expelled? Missed the train? Or worse?

Draco notices the look on your face and frowns in disgust. “Don’t tell me you are worrying about Potter.” “Says the boy who just asked me where he was. How am i supposed to know?”

He opens his mouth and closes it, a little confused. “Fair point… At least Potter missed Dumble-bore’s speech. Lucky him.” You stab a fork into your meat and wave it around and answer. “Some of us have all the luck.”

With your mouth full of meat you stand and pull Draco along with you. “Since you are so concerned about Potter, let’s go find him.” “What? Just go searching around the castle?” “Yeah!” You stop for a second and look back at him “why, are you scared?” He scoffs and pushes past you “Of course not! I’m Draco Malfoy, a pureblood slytherin. What would I be scared of?”

The two of you creep along the corridor, trying to look for anything that hinted at Potter. It was going for so long that you had started to give up and were about to suggest going back when Draco suddenly pulled you behind an armoured guard just as Mcgonagall, Ron and Harry came past. Not believing your luck, you both look at each other in shock before scrambling after the three Gryffindors.

You couldn’t have gone more than 100 meters before a drawling voice from behind you made you stop in your tracks “What… in the world… do you think you are… doing?” Heart in your throat, you slowly spin around, wracked with fear. “Ahh Professor Snape!” Draco pipes up, seemingly perfectly at ease. “We were just taking a nice walk around the castle!” “In the dark? ...Alone?” He nods earnestly, still showing no fear towards being caught. Snape sighs and gestures towards the dungeons. “I suggest that the two of you... hurry back to the common room… the feast is over..” He spun around, swishing his cloak and walked back to his office.

Draco grins at you and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the dungeons. You pass a couple of paintings more strange than the last before speaking. “You know what’s not fair?” You say, rather huffily. “That you’re Snape’s favourite.” He laughs “Well if i wasn’t Snape’s favourite can you imagine how it would’ve gone? You would have had to kiss any free afternoons that you had goodbye.”

When you get into the common room, almost everyone except yourselves were already up in their dorms. The only people sitting around were Crabba and Goyle. You felt the shift in Dracos demeanor and rolled your eyes before he even realised what he was doing.

He strode up to them and struck up a conversation as you stood awkwardly off to one side. After a little bit you gave up on the pretense that he would leave the conversation to talk to you and walked up to the dorms, hearing snippets of the conversation in which he was invested in so adamantly.

The first few months of school flew by in a blur. You drew closer to Theo and Blaise even though you still believed you were best friends with draco even if it was nearly impossible to even talk to him nowadays.

It was the night of the Halloween feast. You had just come down from the dorm after spending a tantalizing long time cleaning up after Pansy after she threw around everything in her wardrobe. You suppress a yawn. No matter how much you love this feast, you have a feeling it’s going to drag on a little too long for your liking.

Just as you round the corner, Harry and his friends bolt past like bats out of hell, making the split second decision to follow them, you spin around and stumble after them.

You hear shouts just as you round the corner and jump back with a scream. There, on the wall hung Mrs Norris and a message with what seemed to be inscribed in blood was "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE." You cover your mouth in absolute horror, before speaking “did… did one of you do this?” You say cautiously. Ron bristled up, his face turning red “Us? How typical of a slytherin to blame it on someone else! It was probably you trying to fr-”After

“Shut up Ronald” Hermione says stiffly. “she has a reason to think that. all, we are here at a rather unfortunate time..” “Y/n?” A voice calls out from the other end of the corridor. An unmistakable voice. “Is that you? I heard you scream as I was heading back to the feast and came to see wha…” Draco stops short and looks at the wall. You could see his lips moving as he read the message and registered the cat. In a blink of an eye, his gaze is on Harry. Before he could get a word out, tons of students came pouring in from every direction and just like you, they stood and read the message before it all erupted into chaos. Filch was cradling his frozen cat and students were desperately trying to work out what was happening. Out of the noise came a loud, snobbish voice “Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

You go to stop him just as Albus Dumbledore himself came along. He ordered Gilderoy, Snape, Mcgonagall, Filch, Potter and his friends to accompany him, leaving it up to the prefects to establish some order within this chaos.

By the time you got back to the common room, rumours were circling already of the writing on the wall. You threw yourself onto your bed, too exhausted to think about it. You woke up and were hit with the events of last night. Groaning, you fell back into your bed, stuffing a pillow over your face. Eventually, you had to get up and eat something, desperately wishing you knew where the kitchens were located.

Throughout the next few weeks, you received the dirtiest looks possible from the three other houses. Everyone either thought it was one of the slytherins or Harry Potter. Which was why you were receiving such glares, also since Draco had shouted the M-slur, everyone was taking out their anger on you, since you were his best friend, so double glare.

Draco. You hadn’t spoken to him for a little while. You were angry at him for shouting that since your mother is a muggleborn. He had tried - on numerous occasions - to strike up a conversation, but you had blatantly ignored him, only feeling white hot anger at each encounter.

But the more time you spent apart, left you feeling sadder. No matter what he did, you couldn’t stay angry at him for more than a day, but this took the cake. As more petrifications happened, you grew terrified. Not even the worst Slytherin could do this, right? ‘Right’ you decided. ‘A talk with Draco is long overdue.’

A few days later, you managed to catch him on his own. He was running down the corridors, obviously late for Charms class. “Hey Draco wait!” you called out! Catching up to him and grabbing his arm to stop him. He turned around and a flurry of emotions ran over his face. Relief, happiness and confusion. “Y/n hey! What's wrong?” he said, trying to get rid of the awkward air. “I - um I’ve been better… these attacks are freaking me out a bit…” He laughs “The Heir won't attack us. We’re Slytherins!” “R-right anyways, I came to ask two things.” He looks a bit apprehensive at this but gestures for you to continue. You take a deep breath and begin “One. Why did you shout out mudbloods you’ll be next? You know my mums a muggle-born and it’s a seriously rude thing to say.” He tries to look sorry but you can tell he was having a hard time. “It wasn’t meant towards your mum. You know I love her and I was only meaning that mudblood Hermione. Next question.” “Dray, you can’t go around calling people slurs for god's sake! Two. Do you know who the Heir could be…?” He narrows his eyes and studies your face before realising what you were implying. “You think I’m the Heir don’t you?” You say nothing, confirming his suspicions. His face grows cold with anger. “As delighted as my father would be if i were, I’m not. I don’t know about you but don’t particularly like our school being in danger.” You raise your eyebrow at him, going on the defensive.

“You certainly don’t show it. You always look amused at the next attack”

He ignores what you just said, his eyes growing distant as he shook like a leaf. “7 years of friendship and you think I’m capable of this. Really shows what you actually think of me.”

“Then maybe don’t look so delighted when people are getting petrified left, right and centre.” You snap back. “Maybe stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. It’s not like you’re gonna be hurt anytime soon.” He sneered.

You push past him. Tired of it. “Stop trying to be someone you’re not Dray, stuck-up rude snob isn’t a good colour on you.”

*Dracos POV*

He grasped his hair as you turned the corner, filled with hurt and anger. Fat chance he was going to Charms now, he didn’t feel like getting stared at with daggers. He knew he should apologise but he didn’t feel like it right now.

He had missed hanging out with you so much and the moment you chose to talk, he had blown it.

He leant against the wall and slid down to the floor. Closing his eyes, sulking. He grew bored after a while and stumbled back to the library, having nothing better to do. On the way he passed the bulletin and looked to see if anything good was happening.

‘Next weekend at Hogsmeade’ no, ‘Firecrackers for 5 galleons each’ no, ‘Dueling Club’ no- his eyes went back to it and he picked up a pamphlet interested.

“Dueling Club tonight! All are Welcome! ~ Gilderoy Lockhart”

Draco shrugged. He might go… just for laughs.

It was finally time for the Dueling Club. He sauntered through the Great Hall’s doors, a cocky grin on his face as Crabba and Goyle flanked him like bodyguards. A long singular table had been set up where Lockhart was harassing students near him.

He walked up to the stage with his followers, sneering at everyone around him, but in turn just keeping an eye out for you. He finally spots you at the front, looking uncomfortable from Lockhart asking you question after question. He storms up to Lockhart and interrupts him “Sorry Professor, but me and y/n need to practise” he takes you by the arm and leads you away, before Lockhart could say anything. He signals for crabbe and Goyle to remain behind, wanting to keep this between you and him.

*Your POV* You glare at him, still hurt from before. He places a hand behind his neck looking awkward

“Look, Y/n” He stares at you, his eyes holding anguish and genuine guilt. “I’m sorry for being a prick just today and back in October. You’re my… closest friend and I couldn’t bear not talking. You mean too much to me.” You deflate a little, smiling weakly. You had hoped for this, you had barely taken it either.

Words failing you, you took a step forward and hugged him ferociously, catching him off guard. Moments later he hugs you back, blinking through unshed tears, burying his face into your shoulder. Both of you suffer through the disastrous Dueling Club together. Stifling your laughter at Lockhart and being so shocked when Harry started speaking parseltongue? Both of you walked back to the common room, being the two of many students whispering about Harry’s ‘gift’.

The rest of the year wore on and it was discovered that even a ghost could be petrified. The golden trio were constantly giving you looks that confused you. Harry wore a worried face, where Ron was just angry but he looked that way toward every Slytherin nowadays and Hermione? Hermione just looked thoughtful. Which unnerved you the most. You liked Hermione, - she reminded you a lot of yourself - but she was scary when it came to figuring out something. Which was why you couldn’t help but put your guard up when you passed her in the corridor, looking anywhere but at her.

Which was why it surprised you when both Hermione and a prefect were petrified. Out of all the muggle borns in the school, she wasn’t on your list of ‘likely to be petrified’.

Days went by and you both watched Ron and Harry grow more and more aggravated. They seemed to be lost in painful thought more often than not and (not that you would ever admit this aloud) you hoped they would find the Heir soon and defeat them.

It was two weeks until the end of school and the situation was at a standstill. Everyone was on edge, thinking this was the quiet before the storm. And they weren’t wrong. A week later, the second Writing on the Wall happened, everyone was shocked no matter how many times they had predicted it. Even Draco was shocked “Okay, i'm sure that no slytherins could do that” he had said, wide eyed.

You had spent the next few days anxiously biting your nails, hoping, praying, something would happen. And something did.

It was a late night and you stormed out of the common room, angry at yourself for developing a horrible sleep schedule from the recent turn of events. At that moment you heard a crash and a few angry whispered shouts consisting of “shut the bloody hell up” and unmistakable “sorry”. You bit back a gasp.

It was Ron and Harry. You shuffled along the corridor and peeked around the corner, hiding once again once you saw what was happening. Dumbledore was escorting a stunned Lockhart while Ron and Harry carried Ginny between them, absolutely filthy. You peeked your head around the corner once more, watching as Dumbledore looked out straight at you and winked, with his familiar twinkle in his eye.

It was the last feast of the school year and you watched as the Gryffindor was showered in points as Slytherin started up their typical booing. You rubbed your temples, just glad that the whole headache had passed. Draco patted your back with sympathy, thinking you were just mourning over Slytherins loss. “Come off it y/n, we’ll win next year.” you smile at him, just glad he isn’t too upset. “Yeah i know. We’ll wipe the floor with them.” You grin at each other before laughing, heading off to finish packing.

You throw your luggage into the compartment above you, huffing in exhaustion. As you swing it, you almost knock out Draco, clipping his shoulder. You couldn’t help but laugh as he fell to the floor and stayed there for a good hour, teasing to no end.

When he finally gets up, he drapes himself over you, plucking the book out of your hands and as payback, made fun of every character he came across.

You groan as the whistle signaling the arrival into Kings Cross Station. You push Draco off your lap and reluctantly grab your luggage (almost knocking him out again for good measure) heading off the train.

You took in the bustling atmosphere and wild crowd, trying to spot your parents. Once you had located them, you turn to Draco who had found his a long time ago but had waited for you. “So.. until next year Dray..” you say sadly. “Heh. Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair smiling sweetly. He seemed to make up his mind about something and gave you a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, whispering in your ear “I’m gonna miss you.” You smile at him and run off to your parents, waving just as you leave for the muggle world.

If you had only stuck around for a second longer, you might have seen the deep blush that grew across Dracos cheeks.

taglist: @loonyvee @just-a-belgian-girl @kashishwrites @hahee154hq @adrianpuceyishot @naviation-xx x @abitofeverythinggg

#draco x reader #draco malfoy series #Draco Malfoy #draco request #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco series #a glimpse through the years #draco malfoy request

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blackicephantom · 3 years

Text

The black dragon and the coward CH. 13

Here is the next chapter!

Even if it feels like nobody's reading this anymore...... well, what ever.

Enjoy!

Tagged: @patolemus , @runestarchild

- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - .- . - . -

The storm blew over and Tsuna was exhausted.

It’s been a damn long day and he was still injured, time to rest up. Reborn, who apparently read his thoughts, picked him up as easy as it gets and just said “Time for bed.” He didn’t even notice when the dragon changed forms again….. Definitely time to sleep.

Once again cradled in these strong and safe arms he let his mind slip away. To the forgotten days, the happy times. When Reborn put him down on the bed he was already fast asleep.

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -

Reborn was…...excited. There was a certain thrill and tension that he couldn’t shake. He wanted to hunt, to hurt, to burn. He wanted to finally act on his instincts but he knew that he had to wait, just this little bit longer! His tail thrashed form side to side and there was a constant low rumbling coming from his throat. If he was someone else he would be embarrassed but as things were standing no one would say anything.

A small giggle brought him out of his reverie and he looked over to the small brunette in his bed. Tsuna had a serious case of bedhead and had this little sleepy smile. He looked so relaxed and, dare he say it, beautiful. This right here, is how it should have been from the beginning. “Finally awake sleepyhead?” was the first thing he asked. Still smiling, the boy sat up and stretched his arms over his head. Then he stood up and cracked his back and neck. With each crack and pop another satisfied sigh left the boy's lips. Yes, this is perfection incarnate. A powerful and capable sky, right here beside him and just waiting for the rest of their strange family. Another content purr echoed through his den which made Tsuna laugh again.

After a simple but filling breakfast they started their preparations. There were dragons to welcome after all. The young heir tried to remember what he could and told Reborn about it. He in return confirmed or denied his facts, which helped him a great deal to sort his thoughts. That’s the moment when another thought occurred to him. What happened to Aria? He thought long about it. Should he ask his draconian companion? Did she make it? Or was there another grave somewhere? `Don’t think such depressing thoughts Tsuna!´. Realizing that there’s only one way to find out, he went looking for the black Dragon.

Said dragon sat waiting patiently, like he had anticipated Tsuna's arrival. “I know you Dame-Tsuna. You’ve still got something to ask.” was the answer to his unasked question. His smirk was visible even in his dragon form, impossible as it should be. Shaking his head and laughing the brunette settled down right in front of the other and looked him in his yellow eyes. “You’re right, there’s still something I would like to know. But I don’t really know if I want to hear the answer.” Humming softly, Reborn lowered his head to the ground and made himself comfortable. “Have you forgotten what Luce always told you? When there’s something you want to know-” he started. “- then don’t hesitate to ask. A simple question costs nothing but a bit of courage.” Tsuna finished. Visibly proud the reptile looked up to the sky and asked again. “So, what is it? Spill.” A few minutes there was nothing but the sounds around them, before he found his voice. “It’s just….. I mean I’ve been wondering…. Oh damn it! I wanted to ask about Aria!” The last sentence was almost a shout and Rebon wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Aria was another rather sore spot but just like the rest, Tsuna deserved to know. With a sigh the dragon started his little story.

After the departure of his brothers Reborn was all alone with his memories. His memories and with Aria. He’s not stupid, he knows that she coulnd’t stay here with him. But where could he send her? Was there even a safe place for her? Watching the sleeping fledgling his heart broke again, as she grieved even when deeply asleep. With every new tear his resolve strengthened. This place can never again be home for her. Not this godforsaken place where her mother was ruthlessly murdered right in front of her. Not the place where her little brother was taken from her, while she was unable to do anything.

He thought. He thought long and hard, for days on end. But no solution would come to him. Until Aria herself contributed something. It’s been just a few weeks but she’s almost all grown up. This is the curse that all Skydragons share: a short childhood, followed by a just as short life. Sure, they still lived longer than humans but from a dragon's perspective their life was fleeting. “I know that you want to protect me. And I am thankful for all that you’ve done until now. But I don’t want to burden you further than this.” He waited in tense anticipation. It was clear that she was Luce’s child. Always prepared….

She continued with a small and sad smile. “I will go on a journey. I will visit many places and meet many people. Until someone catches my eye and I settle down.” Yellow eyes widened. This…...this was way too specific for some random plan! There was only one explanation: A Vision. Aria has her mothers gift. “I hope that you will take just as good care of my daughter when the time comes, because she is going to be an orphan way too early. But don’t worry, she won’t see a single thing.” Reborn couldn't respond to the sheer mass of information he was given. Aria has seen her whole life. Probably from the day after tomorrow until the day she dies. It’s just as fascinating as it’s sad….

But she seemed to understand this, for she said nothing about it. Not even when a few stubborn tears rolled down the usually stone cold face. “Please take care. If the day comes, visit her. She will be in the care of the Millefiore family and will also inherit our gift.” Now he was outright sobbing. He wanted to clutch her tight and never let go, but he knew better by now. He knew that when he woke up tomorrow she would be gone. So he pulled her closer and embraced her one last time, already mourning his second sky. She returned his hug just as tightly and shed quite a few tears herself. This man was like a father after all. Just like all the others that will never know of this. As they slowly pulled away from each other she said one last thing that would change everything for him. “And please do me a favour. Greet Tsunayoshi in my name when he returns, ok? And pamper him, because it won’t be easy for him. Be patient. You will forget, but you will also remember.”

The next morning was dark and gray and he stood alone in the pouring rain.

On that day he started to kill every human that ventured to far into the forest, too far into his territory. That was the day the legend of the Midnightblack Sundragon was born.

“It happened just like she said. She found a nice man and gave birth to Yuni. A raid on their village took first her husband and then herself, Yuni was away with some servants. Ever since that day she’s been with the Millefiore family. And there’s of course the part with the forgetting. I have absolutely no idea how or why this happened but I know that whatever it was, was lifted on the day I brought you back to this damned village.”

The young sky needed time to work through all this information. First of all: his fear came true. There WAS another grave for him to visit. His sister, gone, just like their mother but her daughter still safe and sound. Second: the reason Reborn and he couldn’t remember each other was because of an outside interference. And the third: clairvoyance is as handy as it is scary. His respect for Luce and Aria just went through the roof. Not to forget the poor Yuni…..who knows what she has already seen? `So many things to consider. And no time to dwell.´ Shaking his head Tsuna looked up at his friend. Reborn’s head was turned away from him, but he could still feel the tension, so he reached out and gently petted the dark scales. The reaction was instantaneous, Reborn relaxing and putting his head on the brunette's lap.

In this moment of peace he thought about the other Arcobaleno. Have they changed? Were they lonely during all these years? But most importantly: were they all ok?

Instead of all these things he asked something completely different.

“Ne ne, Reborn. Who do you think will arrive first?” Said dragon just blinked for a moment before snorting and then outright laughing. There’s no reason to be surprised, Tsuna was also Luce’s kid after all. Trying and failing to stop laughing for several minutes the mythical creature stood up again and looked up. “What a stupid question. Since the closest thing to the sky, the sun, is already here, there's just one possibility. There’s just one single person that could arrive here first. A drifting cloud, never to be bound.” Just as he finished his sentence a loud chirping and the rustling of feathers could be heard. Both sounds grew louder and closer and Tsuna couldn’t wait. The drifting cloud was none other than Skull! Beating wings came into view, followed by the dark purple body and the swishing tail. Another chirp sounded and this time Reborn answered with his own call. Their eyes met even over this distance and the Clouddragon started his neck breaking decent.

Feet touched the ground and carved their way thru the soil until he stood still right before the boy he had missed dearly, right beside the brother that called them back. Still not quite believing his eyes he hesitated. What if this was nothing but a cruel, cruel dream? But then Reborn stood up and came impossibly closer, only to nudge him with his maw and nipping playfully on his beak. `Not a dream then.´ The next thing he knew he laid a few meters away on the ground, apparently the black of the other whipped him away. Literally. But… the sting was shockingly pleasant, so he just got up again, shook out his scales and bound over again. First he tackled his fellow dragon down and cuddled with him. But even if the Sundragon complained, he didn't throw him off. Next thing he did was transform and then kneel before the poor boy, almost as if was worshipping him. Instead of praise tho, only apologies left his mouth and that just wouldn't do. Careful hand reached out and took hold of his now wet cheeks. Slowly raising his head he was met with the gentle brown they had tried to protect. One hand carted through his violet hair and soothed him, gave him comfort he hasn’t had since he was captured. “It’s ok Skull.” Completely overwhelmed, he flung himself in Tsuna’s arms and was glad to be caught.

An hour, maybe even two went by before the next dragon came home.

None of them looked up, the wind telling them who had arrived the moment their master was close enough. Red scales shone brightly and the young Vongola just stepped forward with outstretched arms. Shortly after that he was rewarded with the big and fluffy head of the Stormdragon. He pet the white mane and put their foreheads together as a symbol of familiarity. The following grumbling was as sweet as it was calming and gave him the opportunity to ignore the other two in the background where Reborn just sat atop of Skull, not caring if the other had enough air to breath. But he still heard the quiet “The furios storm that never rests.” and couldn't be happier.

Just then the ground started to shake and tremble, until a rather large hole had opened up right where they stood. The first one to emerge was the bulky form of the Lightningdragon, who immediately stomped over to him, while the indigo coloured snake made its way over to the other dragons….. Only to start choking Skull. Already tired of this Fon also made his way over, at least to make sure that they wouldn’t kill the third one. Tsuna just watched for a short moment, when a long maw nudged him in the stomach and a small and harmless lightning bolt rushed across his arm. Giggling he scratched the crocodile look alike right between the eyes and earned a thumping foot. When Verde had enough he switched places with Viper, only without the choking part…. The closer Viper came, the smaller he got and when he was at the boys feet he just waited till he was offered an arm. Slowly crawling up the limp he made his home right around Tsuna's neck, like a living and breathing and very venomous necklace. “Welcome home our dear protective lightning rod and bewildering Mistdragon.”

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -

The day was almost over and one Arcobaleno was still missing. “What the fuck is Colonello doing out there? Picnicking?” While Skull laughed at that Verde looked rather thoughtful. “He is still bound to the waters if he wants to travel efficiently. But the nearest ocean is a few miles behind that accursed village.” With that he caught everyone's attention, because he was right. “Do you think something happened to him?” asked Tsuna worried. The green haired man looked away before shrugging. “It is a possibility.” Just as Tsuna wanted to say something else, Reborn was beside him and shielded him with one of his wings. That's the only heads up they got as a torrent of rain came over them. If Reborn hadn’t reacted, Tsuna would be soaked to the bone. But everyone wasn’t so lucky. Just watching the still draconian fish roll around laughing made the boy shake his head. `He deserves what's coming for him.´ Melodious giggles promptly cut off as electricity crackled through the air and Verde changed between one flash and another. “RUN.” Colonello didn’t need to be told twice. Because his fins were practically useless on land he changed as well and booked it out of the cave they had waited in. Verde gave him three seconds of a head start and then set off after him.

All of the others just listened as the newcomer tried to calm the raging crocodile but he had no such luck. Reborn smirked, Fon just drank his tea, Skull laughed like there was no tomorrow and Viper just shook his head in exasperation. “Those two are just as bad as you and Skull, Reborn.” Said dragon just shrugged with his shoulders and answered “I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.”

A loud scream tore through the night, right before a bright green flash could be seen…… No one moved but as a rather satisfied Lightningdragon returned it was clear what happened out there. “Uhm………” Sighing the black Sundragon took it upon himself to go look for the blonde. Grabbing a big glass of water from the table he went outside. Tsuna wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that he heard nothing yet. But when both dragons returned he was relieved. Colonello had a few burnes, electricity still crawling along his skin and hair standing on end but looked better than expected. `The rain that washes away the blood has also returned.´ The Arcobaleno were together again.

Looking around this strange and chaotic group of people he has the honor to call family, Tsuna couldn't help his tears. This is what he wanted, what he had missed after returning `home´. This is what no one at the village would or could give him. Not even his own parents.

Several arms engulfed his small frame and held him close, while six different tones hummed Luce's lullaby for him. He grabbed onto the closest person, this being Fon this time and just enjoyed the closeness and the warmth. Yes, this is HOME. This and nowhere else.

That night, the only Vongola heir slept surrounded by six lethal dragons. Creatures said to kill in cold blood and are able to hold quite a grudge. But Tsuna never felt saver.

Tomorrow, he would visit Yuni with Reborn. Tomorrow, they will plan what to do with the village that had failed to raise him and to keep him. Tomorrow…... he just couldn’t wait.

_TBC_

#khr #reborn x tsuna #r27 #dragon and coward #fanfic

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