#at this point I'm really really leaning on assumptions over given information but I Think Ena Researched. And I think that's cute...

[ros-sauce]

Y'know the longer I think about it, the more I think "To me, Mizuki is just Mizuki" or whatever it is that Ena said was Also a thinly veiled way of her saying "Ok well you're still a girl". Like I think the most glaringly obvious, not-behind-a-curtain-in-the-slightest line was when she pointed directly at "So are you like a guy too?" and correctly described that statement as an insult, but surprisingly, that line that pissed me off so bad, that line that really annoying people with limited ability to read have been parroting since the game dropped, might... actually be goated? A little?

Like. I don't know. Ena spent her whole friendship with Mizuki up to this point correctly assuming she was a girl, all she had wrong was the "cis" modifier. (And Cis Modifier isn't necessarily something she consciously thought of, because of the whole cis privilege makes you assume cis as the default and thus that modifier fades into the background thing.) Additionally, a hot fucking minute passed between Mizu5 and Ena5, long enough for Ena to ruin her skin with tears for her dead wife... And during that hot fuckin minute, the Ena5 4koma took place, where she straight up drew a lost girl while stressing about Mizuki. That whole gap between the events and what took place in the gap is very special to me... because the Girl Drawing combined with the Accurately Recognizing The Transmisogynistic Bullying As Exactly That really helps to make clear that Ena was confronting her "cis as default" way of thinking, and not anything else. I don't think she questioned Mizuki's girlhood even once, aside from maybe thinking "what the fuck are they on about" during her run-in with the bullies in Mizu5

[rreeaahh]

Arms Tonite | draco malfoy

Arms Tonite - for @vogueweasley​ ‘s writing challenge (inspired by the song)

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader (ravenclaw)

words count: 10k - lyrics in italic

summary; your relationship with draco went from strangers, to lovers, to strangers again - but it broke the barrier between life and death.

warnings: the word “mudblood”; swearing; death eaters; voldemort; death of a character; some fluff; angst; kinda sad; slow burn; blood mention; (that’s all i could think of, please let me know if there are more!)

a/n: im so so so sorry if thats too long, my loves! i got carried away by this idea - i had it in my mind for so so long i used @vogueweasley 's writing challenge as motivation. again, congratulations mere! You're one of the first writers ive followed here, and I'm happy to see your blog growing❤️

 “Can I sit there?” you asked softly, embracing the pile of books to your chest. They were all for your Potions’ essay, where you really wanted to excel, only to prove Professor Snape what you were capable of.

Since the first year, Snape turned out to be a walking nightmare for all the students in the entire castle, especially for the ones who hadn’t a green tie around their neck. Being a Ravenclaw, the desire to know more was a normal thing for you: always asking questions and making assumptions only to gain more information made Snape grow a feeling of hatred towards you. He’d externalize that hate by giving you extra work, asking you questions you had no idea to answer, criticizing your skills in front of the class – basically, everything he could do to embarrass yourself and to show your classmates that you weren’t as smart as you wanted to introduce yourself.

“What?” the boy asked in confusion, his fingers squeezing the silver quill he was using to take notes from a booked that seemed to be about Transfiguration – a subject where you were at the top of the class, as Professor McGonagall told you proudly.

“I asked if I could stay here,” you repeated in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the rest of the people who were struggling with their work. “All the tables are taken and that’s my spot, usually,” you added when he frowned his brows, scanning the room.

“Yeah, whatever,” he said careless, going back to his piece of parchment. “That’s my spot usually, too, but I haven’t seen you here,” he whispered as you sat down, in front of him.

“I don’t think we share classes, so I think we don’t go to the library at the same time. But maybe it could be our spot from now on.” Your explanation made the blonde boy look away, his cheeks running paler while the skin of his neck, revealed by the crack of his unbottoned shirt, seemed to burn.

The silence fell on you two, the room being filled only with whispers and quills running their ink on the papers. You really had to impress Snape with that essay, you had enough of his comments and ugly looks – he was a great teacher, a very skilled person, but he had a horrible way to be human – that if he could be considered a human being. Deep down you feared Snape – his cold eyes, his fluttering cloak and his loud steps: all of that gave you goosebumps all over your body. Thinking of those you felt your breath tangling up in your throat, and the letters started to dance in front of your eyes. At first, you looked around the room, searching for the Weasley twins, but it wasn’t a prank: it was the stress which took control over your mind, playing tricks and messing with you. Your throat was dry, and every time you tried to swallow your saliva it felt like you had sand in your mouth. Your tablemate seemed to notice your discomfort, because he looked at you under his eyelashes, his right brow raising in confusion or annoyance.

“What are you doing?” he asked, now looking at you without any reservation.

“Hm?” you buzzed, making eye contact with him. You couldn’t figure out if he was surprised by your daring glare, or intimidated or amused – he only kept on looking into your eyes, not revealing any true emotion.

“You keep on swallowing and it looks like you’re drowning or something.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” you smiled politely, which made him go back to his work. But when you kept on acting like you couldn’t breathe, he dropped his quill on the table and look like you with frustration. “What?”

“You’re distracting me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “Some of us are trying to focus, so keep quiet or leave.”

It was very rude of him – in your opinion – to talk to you, a complete stranger, like he could give you orders; especially when you did nothing wrong.

“Me too,” you sighed, “It’s only that…” But you stopped in the middle of the sentence, reminding that you didn’t know who you were talking to, and he probably didn’t care.

“Only what?” he asked, making you look at him again. His face was blank – relaxed, like he was an emotionless metal can.

“I’m not that good with Potions, so I’m struggling a little bit,” you smiled with shame, not knowing exactly why you felt that way admitting you weren’t good at something.

“We all are struggling,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal, pointing to his Transfiguration book. “Some of us on simple things, I see,” he commented after he took a sight at the books you chose and the big title you wrote on the parchment.

“Then maybe we could help each other,” you proposed, smiling at him in a friendly nature. He didn’t seem to understand your idea, given the frowned brows and half eyes that were starring at you. “I’m good at Transfiguration, the best if we’re to follow McGonagall’s words, so I could help you if you help me with my Potions essay.”

He took a moment to think, looking back and forward to your books and his, to your parchments and his – yours were filled with paragraphs and his were decorated with meaningless drawings. “I only need some notes, it’s not fair to do your whole essay in exchange of some stupid phrases,” he said like you were trying to fool him.

You chuckled and leaned back on your chair. “Yeah, nothing’s free,” you smiled, “Ok, then I’ll write your notes and you’ll write me the main ideas – after that I’ll write it on my own.” He stayed thoughtful and quiet, looking at your face; you tried hard not to run your fingers to your cheek, searching for dirt or anything that had him starring. “Deal?” you asked.

He held out his hand in your direction. “Deal,” was his only response, waiting for you to conclude the pact. And you did – you gently shook his hand, the skin of his palm feeling smooth against your own, like he was using lots of lotion every night before going to bed. But it was a nice feeling, which led a wave of warmth all over your body along with a good premonition about how he’d do your homework and him, in general.

The two of you switched your belongings, the only item that wasn’t switch being the quills – he was holding his like it was the biggest treasure he ever had; and maybe it was, you thought. Maybe it had an emotional story and he wanted to keep the quill only because of the memories it hold, but maybe he was only careful with what belonged to him. You never really had anyone to help you with your work – when you were a child your parents encouraged you to keep on trying by yourself in order to succeed, and you grew up avoiding other’s help, only to prove them that you could do it alone. After a while, in your third year of Hogwarts, you wanted to be helped, but it seemed like your older housemates were too busy and the ones your age were looking for you to help them. So, to be in the library on a Friday afternoon, helped by a boy you never crossed paths with before seemed like a new – and somehow exciting – experience. It was nice to write on the parchments which had their edges and corners filled with something that seemed to be flowers or some kind of plant with curled leaves. You often asked him questions about what you should or shouldn’t write, and depending on his answer you’d write down more explicit notes, as he kept on commenting how many useless things you’ve wrote in your essay by far – but he was funny, telling you that you should give Snape the essay the way it is so maybe you all could be lucky and get rid of the sulky teacher sooner than expected.

After some time, they boy looked at the silver watch on his left wrist and put down the quill. “My study time’s over,” he announced and you also put down the writing instrument, handing him the papers you tried to write as eligible as you could. “That’s all?” he asked and scoffed.

“Actually, I have more things to add, but…” You tried to say, but he already began to gather his things, closing the Transfiguration book and folding the parchments. “We could meet tomorrow, or Sunday,” you proposed and also got up when he did. You tried to make eye contact with him one more time, not paying that much attention to the height difference between you two.

“Again?” he spoke, fulfilling your wish. His eyes were mesmerizing – such a light blue, reminding you of a sunny sky.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want – it would be beneficial for both of us to finish what we started.”

And he thought that way too, because the next day he was already in the same spot of the library, all by himself, trying to decipher the entangled letter you wrote the other day. “Maybe Snape doesn’t like you because of your handwriting,” he said when you sat down, making you smile and chuckle – an action that caused him to have a little smile in the corner of his lips, too. And those smiles continued to grow on your faces, because besides the theoretical information you two changed, there were also a little funny comment slipped through the conversation.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked while gathering your things, because that time you were the one who needed to leave earlier.

“I can’t,” he simply said. “I have to study.”

“Isn’t that the reason we met here today?” you laughed, “To study together?”

“No, we met today to finish our deal – which is pretty much done,” he explained in a plain voice, pointing to the pages in your hand. The structure of the essay was done; you only needed to put it all together and his Transfiguration notes were enough for him to understand better the subject.

“Oh,” you said in a whisper. “Yeah, right, thank you…” you smiled to him, whishing that he’d realize that you two never introduced each other properly, but he only returned the smile in a polite way.

“You’re welcome,” was all he said and went back to his book, trying to put head to head the theory you made and the information from the book.

That Saturday you left the library with a strange feeling of loneliness – he was a stranger, but he helped you concentrate and also helped you with something that – maybe – was the most important opportunity for you to shut Snape’s mouth. That day flew by without you even realizing, but at night you found yourself thinking about the boy who tapped his fingers on the wooden surface anytime he’d search for the right words but couldn’t stand a strange breathing near him, and a pair of iced eyes was present in your dreams, doing nothing more than watching you with all the possible emotions mirroring in them.

“How was your weekend by far, Hermione?” you asked the girl only to break the strange silence between you two. She was looking for a specific book, and it happened to bump into her when you came to the library to continue your work.

It was a few hours after lunch, on a sunny Sunday when most of the students preferred to study or to simply hang out in the courtyards, lying on the grass. It wasn’t very weird that you had to deal with all those stares when you went to the library on such a beautiful day. You weren’t a bookworm or a nerd, but it was a special thing and you really wanted to have it all done by the end of Monday at least, so you wouldn’t be loaded with other things.

“It was… acceptable,” she responded and shrugged, going back to look for that book on the selves. “As acceptable as it could be a weekend spend in the company of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” she continued and you laughed. She was the brain of that trio, and it might be stressful to be their friend – but you were pretty sure it wasn’t that horrible since she stayed by their side for so long. “What about you?” she returned the question, giving up on her searching as she couldn’t find the right book.

Hermione followed you to your usual table, situated in a corner of the room, where the rays of sun came through the wide window and lighted all the pages. You sat down, leaving aside the parchments for some moments of chatting with your friend. “It was… fun,” you smiled, “I was here two days in a row doing homework.”

Hermione laughed while flipping the pages gently. “And Ronald says I’m the one who needs to sort out her priorities.”

“No,” you rolled your eyes, “It was fun because I had a study buddy. It was really nice,” the explanation made the girl leave her book and watch you with sudden interest. You knew Hermione wasn’t the type who gossip, so her attention was pure curiosity.

“Who?”

“I don’t really know,” you sighed, a little disappointment in your voice as you looked at your fingers, which were unconsciously tapping on the table. “We never made a proper introduction.”

The Gryffindor girl played with the zipper of her hoodie, looking like he was trying to remember all the persons who ever entered that room. “How was he looking?”

Handsome was the first word you wanted to say, as a joke, but a discarded book landed on your table, right on top of your papers and made you looks at the person whose shadow was covering your face.

“What is she doing at our spot?”

“Malfoy,” Hermione growled with hatred, “I don’t think your father bought the tables in the entire library, too,” she said and made the boy look at her with as much venom as a snake could carry.

So he was Malfoy – the mean boy Hermione would mention from time to time, the one who’d always have a harsh word to tell Ron and the one who despised The Chosen One so much. Your timetable never interfered with their, and you’d usually spend your weekends and breaks with some classmates you were friends with, so you never really crossed path with that Malfoy boy. You knew about him, but you didn’t know him – not until then.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Mudblood; learn to speak only when spoken to,” he said in a mockery tone, his eyes going back to you.

You looked at him, and then at Hermione, who seemed to search in you something you couldn’t actually find. “Well?” he repeated, but there was no response from you.

“What does he mean, Y/N? Your spot?” she asked, her voice cracking at the end.

“He’s… my study buddy,” you spoke and Malfoy raised his brow at the appellative, while Hermione froze.

“I’ll leave you with your study buddy, then,” she whispered to you and left, not before taking the book that was thrown on the table by the Slytherin boy.

Your hand was shaking when you grabbed the quill, going back to finish the essay that you started to properly write last night in your dormitory. “Yeah, take my scrap, you filthy Mudblood,” he commented and watched Hermione leave. He then sat down, in front of you, slightly pushing away from him the chair were your friend sat some seconds ago. “Don’t tell me she’s following you around like a little puppy,” he laughed and you looked at him in confusion.

“She’s my friend,” you simply said.

The confusion was now on Malfoy’s face. “Friend?” he scoffed.

“Don’t you have friends?”

“Plenty,” he responded quickly. “But my friends have my back when I’m in an argument.”

You shrugged and looked down again to your essay. “I’m a neutral person, I’m not picking sides,” you explained. He watched you write without any other interruption, but you were feeling weird to be aware of his presence in your perimeter and being as talkative as a fish. “What are you doing here?” you asked as you wrote your name at the bottom of the last paper. He quickly grabbed them all, smiling at your expression.

“I made some free time to come and read our final product.” He went back to be silent, his blue eyes running from left to right in order to read all the things you wrote more calligraphic, only thinking about his comment and about the nice letters he used to make the summary yesterday. “It’s good,” he said proudly, like it was his own.

“Really?” you asked shyly, not ready to have a criticism on that yet.

“Yes, I see you kept some of my phraseology,” he smiled in a kind way, returning the parchments to you.

“It was really well structured,” you laughed and ran a hand through your hair, blushing when you saw him starring intensely at your face – you really wanted to ask him if there was something on your face.

“It’s perfect, Y/N,” he repeated, “Snape can’t say otherwise. It’s nearly as good as mine are,” he assured you. His response made you laugh loudly, gaining some hissing from Madam Pince; your hands went to your mouth, covering it, and the boy looked at you with amusement.

“Thank you, Malfoy,” you whispered, scared to talk even in a quiet way. You knew how much the librarian hated the loud students, and you really didn’t want to be one of them. To be on her blacklist was something no one really wanted.

“Call me Draco,” he asked and got up. “I have to go, but I’m sure your work will be appreciated tomorrow.”

“It’s for Friday, actually.”

“So you had a week to do it, but you did it right away?” he laughed this time, but he seemed careless at Madam’s Pince hiss.

“What?” you pouted, already annoyed by his laugh. You knew what he was going to say, and it made you somehow ashamed.

“Nothing,” he said to your surprise, “It’s just that… I’ve never seen somebody to be that ambitious when it comes about school.”

“So you don’t make fun of me,” you thought out loud, making him chuckle again.

“Why would I make fun of you for being a determined person?” he asked and you returned his smile, more shyly, and waved him goodbye as you saw him walking away.

It was the last moment when you saw Draco Malfoy – Monday morning you looked for him in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch, dinner and even after classes – but due to the large amount of students, he was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t put a foot in the library, because you stayed there awhile, doing your homework or reading – more like pretending to do any of those – but he never came. It was like he was swallowed by a big black hole and forgotten by all the people in Hogwarts. Nobody near you mentioned his name, and you didn’t dare to ask Hermione about him after the ‘study buddy’ situation. She said it was all fine between you two, because she knew about your neutral personality. It was simple: you never got into fights yourself or got involved when other people would argue – it was simple that way. You asked her if she was alright after Draco said all those things to her, of course, but when she told you it was alright you didn’t insisted more.

Friday came faster than you had thought and you were quite nervous to hand Snape your essay. All your classmates wished you good luck, even if they were in the exact same situation as you were – not quite the same, actually, because you were the only one asked to stay over class so the Potions Master could have a word with you.

“You wanted to talk to me, Professor?” you asked when the rest of the students left you all alone with Snape, who sat in the front of the class, hands crossed over his chest and a frowned look on his face.

“Obvious,” he spoke in his monotone voice, coming closer to your desk. “What is this, Miss L/N?” he asked, throwing in front of you the essay, all the pages spreading on the table.

“My essay, Sir,” you told him confident, already preparing your speech about how hard you worked on it and how he couldn’t say it was a piece of trash.

“Your essay?” he asked serious, and then he faked a laugh. “I think you mean Mister’s Malfoy essay,” he then handed you another parchment, with Draco’s name on it, neatly written.

You read a few phrases from his work, but there was nothing alike between them aside some expressions – the ones Draco observed you kept from his notes. “I didn’t steal his work, Sir,” you said in a quiet voice, not daring to look him in the eyes. You didn’t need to do that to know how mad he was.

“You didn’t steal it, you copied it.”

“No, I…” but he already made up his mind. He asked you to leave, informing you that you’d get more work to do, along with a week of detention.

Your blood was boiling and you only wanted to scream how much you hated everything: how much you hated Snape, for being a prick, how much you hated yourself, for not being able to do your own homework alone and how much you hated Draco, for ‘helping’ you and then disappearing – but he didn’t disappear, because he was in the end of the corridor, all by himself, his hands on his trousers’ pockets, standing in an elegant posture leaning on the wall. The dark always present on the Dungeons made him look paler that he seemed in the library’s sunrays, but the blue of his eyes was still remembering you of the clear sky in the moment he heard your steps.

“Y/N,” he greeted you from afar, a little smile growing on the corner of his lips. “How was…” but you didn’t give him the occasion to finish his sentence, leaving the dark corridor in a hurry.

It was odd that after a week of thinking only about him, about the blue of his eyes, about the way his voice would seem lighter when he was holding back his laugh, about the cute way he’d smile only a half of joy, you ran away from his presence like he was your worst nightmare when, in fact, he was present in your sweetest dreams.

It was your desire to be alone the one which made you isolate yourself in your room for some good hours, crying and hitting the pillows, throwing them in the walls and then gathering them, only to throw them again. You felt the way Snape’d describe your skills, work or everything you did: trash – you felt like trash. You thought about going to dinner with your housemates when you heard them leaving the Common Room, but you realized that Snape’s face, eating at the teachers’ table would’ve turned your stomach upside down. So you stayed there for another hour, thinking about everything and nothing in particular; you just knew that you were sick of it, sick of everything and you just needed a break.

And that’s what you did: you took a break. You left the dormitory only undressing yourself from the blue robes and went running on the empty corridors. When you left, you weren’t sure where you’d go – but you found yourself in the Astronomy Tower, watching the entire yard and the environs of the castle. The sky was painted in pastel colors, the sun bathing in the red color of the lake. It was beautiful and you wanted nothing than to be the same with all of it.

“I hate it all!” you screamed looking up to the sky, closing your eyes. “I hate Severus Snape!” you screamed again, opening your eyes and looking down. It was a long, long way to the bottom, where the cobbled paths would wait. “I hate that he managed to make me feel so useless,” now you whispered, tightening the metal balustrade between your palm until they became white. You shook the metal as hard as you could, but it stood still; the effort left you breathless, but you still managed to scream from the bottom of your lungs: “I hate myself!”

You had no idea where that came from – it was the first time you thought that way about you, but it felt very honest. You hated how much pressure you’ve put on your shoulders and now that you were too weak to carry it all, you felt worthless. The only thing you knew was that you were crying, so hard that your sobs didn’t let you hear the steps approaching you in such a hurry. The force of the hand that grabbed your elbow was unexpected, making you stumble on your own legs. The warm feeling immediately invaded your whole body as soon as you fell in a pair of arms, which were holding you hard enough not to fall to the ground.

“What the hell were you doing, Y/N?!” he screamed, the image of his face being blurred because of the tears in your eyes. You blinked a few times and there he was: Draco Malfoy, with a worried look on his face but with the same beautiful blue eyes.

“Draco…” you whispered and grabbed the material of his white shirt, “What are you doing here?” you managed to ask without your voice cracking.

“You didn’t come to dinner, and after the way you walk away from earlier…” he said and became paler, “But what were you doing? Don’t tell me you tried to…”

But you shook your head in negation faster than the words he said. “No, of course not,” you said trying to convince yourself more than him. “I was just… having a moment,” you explained and withdrew from his arms, hugging yourself to calm down.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again and touched your shoulders, his hands burning the skin under your uniform shirt.

“Snape said I copied your essay,” you succeed to whisper after a long silence, the tears coming back into your eyes.

His brows went lower, his mouth in a line. “Have you told him that I helped you?”

“No,” you said, now crying again. He wiped away a tear that rolled on your cheek. “He told me to leave before I could say anything, and now I have detention a whole week.”

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hummed as he pulled you back into his arms, one of his hands laying on your back as the other one was caressing your hair. “You don’t need to cry,” he spoke gently and his movements became clumsy as you cried even harder. “I’ll take care of it, Y/N,” he assured you and suddenly, your tears dried up.

“What?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“I… I’ll talk to Snape about it,” he repeated, “It’s not fair to act that way towards you when your essay was so good.”

All the parts of your body were screaming to kiss him only because he was that near to you. But you were too puzzled up to even hear those screams in your head. “You’ll get in trouble too, Draco.”

“No,” he smiled. “Let’s say that Snape owns my father one,” he smiled devilish, and contrary his expectations you smiled like you haven’t been crying until then.

“But why are you doing that?” you laughed and tried not to freak out because he was still holding you.

“So you could own me one later,” he continued to smile even after you hit them slightly in chest. “What? Nothing’s free, remember?”

You bit your cheek, trying to hold back a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“So we have a deal?”

“No,” you said and raised a brow. “We have a deal only if you don’t get yourself in trouble by talking to Snape or, even worst, getting me into a bigger mess. You need to succeed in order to have a deal.”

“That sounds like a deal to me,” he smirked and ran a hand through his blonde hair, which seemed more like gray in the light given by the moon.

“We have a deal, then,” you laughed and tighten up a bit the grip on his shirt.

“Don’t ever stay that close to the edge again,” he asked you and you could see the same feeling of anxiety on his face. You nodded your head in agreement and he hugged you again. “You scared the shit out of me,” he confessed.

It was the first time in your life when you felt that somebody was truly worried about you. Your parents would’ve just watch you break down and then get up and try again, telling you that it’s the normal way to educate yourself. But that night, in his arms, you felt that you weren’t the same lonely child. It was a warm feeling, a feeling of a new burning in your heart. And it was a nice feeling.

  I fell in your arms tonight / I fell hard in your arms tonight / It was nice

 You agreed to meet Draco the next day in the Astronomy Tower half an hour before the dinner would finish and you were surprised to see him already there, welcoming you with the same somehow evil smirk he had the other day.

“You own me one,” he said without even waiting for you to say something. “Snape told me he’ll forget about the detention, but you need to make some rephrasing on your essay.” He was proud of his manipulative skills and you could see it in his eyes – there was a little sparkle as you approached him.

“Good job, Draco,” you said smiling from an ear to the other. “I guess I own you one.”

“Yes, yes you do.”

You look over the skyline and went closer to the balustrade, Draco following you closely even after you sat down on the stone floor, your legs hanging on the outside. You seemed to be secure enough, so Draco sat down and looked at the sunset as well.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You already did,” he puffed and you punched his shoulder, smiling.

“You’re an idiot, you know what I mean.”

“Why am I an idiot?” he asked and turned to face you with an ugly look.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” you told him quickly. “I call my friends that way when they say something dumb but they’re funny at the same time,” you explained, ashamed that you offended him.

He was silent for a moment and looked at the lake again. “My father uses that term to talk about incompetent people,” he said and you looked away from his face.

“I guess it’s a way to use it, too,” you spoke shy.

“Why do you want to ask me?” he changed the subject, removing the awkward tension between you two.

“Why did you called Hermione Granger that word?” you asked cautious not to upset him with your curiosity.

“That’s what she is,” he said nonchalantly, “She’s a Mudblood, and she is inferior to us.”

“Only because of her blood?” you laughed. “And how do you know I’m not inferior to you too?”

“I made my research on you before talking to you again,” he shrugged.

“She’s superior to both of us in many ways, Draco,” you told him and looked at him in the moment he did the same. “She lives in another world at the same time she lives in this one,” you explained, “We were born surrounded by magic and that’s our only way of living.”

He lour. “Why do you say that?”

“I take the Muggle Studies class,” you smiled proudly.

“Why would you do that?” he scoffed. If you ignored his mentality on that subject, you could say he was really cute.

“It’s interesting,” you started. “They have many objects we have no idea about and they have fairy tales about anything – they’re kind of superstitious.”

“Superstitious?” he asked like he was curious and not like he wanted to mock you.

“Yeah,” you said and got up. “Maybe I’ll tell you about some superstitions one day.”

“Tomorrow night,” he asked you and got up as well.

“You want to know more about Muggles?” you laughed.

He shrugged. “It’s your chance to prove me they’re not inferior to us.”

“Ok,” you smiled and took the challenge.

You left the Tower walking by his side, and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he walked you to your Common Room door, wishing you a goodnight. The next day Professor Snape wanted to talk to you again after class, this time apologizing for the way he managed the situation, but you could tell he wasn’t very pleased with what he was saying. When the dinner was nearly finished, you could see Draco leaving the Great Hall without looking in your direction and you knew it was the signal to get up and do the same thing after some minutes. You thought it’d be better if nobody would know where you were going and with who.

“Ready to learn about Muggles?” you asked him with joy as soon as you got in the highest place in Hogwarts.

“Whatever,” he laughed and rolled his eyes.

You brought a book you got last year on your birthday from Hermione, a book about a lot of things the Muggles believe in. You read out loud some pages and Draco only sat next to you, listening. It was somehow therapeutic to read in front of him because he didn’t disturb you, he even looked like he was enjoying it.

“So they even have a specific flower for when somebody dies?” he asked out of a sudden. He was really paying attention.

“Yeah, in some countries,” you smiled. “In Italy, France or Belgium – where it’s made the best chocolate – the white chrysanthemum is well known to be brought at somebody’s funeral. But they also represent loyalty and devoted love, so I think it makes it even more beautiful. They’re my favorites,” you smiled.

“A flower that represents the death is your favorite?” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’ve never seen a chrysanthemum, and that’s something, considering the fact that my mother has a gigantic garden.”

He was often talking about his mother and you deducted that he’s a mummy boy – it was cute to know that he loved his mother dearly.

“I would love to see it,” you smiled politely.

“Maybe you will,” he said and caught you by surprise. “I mean, maybe you’ll see a garden as big as my mother’s,” he clarified when he observed those big eyes of yours.

“Yeah,” you said in a quiet voice, looking back into your book.

“What?” he asked and you didn’t respond him.

You were… sad? Disappointed? It was a strange and groundless feeling given by the idea that you’ll never see the garden of his house, and that also meant that you’ll never meet his mother, who was already painted in your mind like an elegant and kind woman.

“Are you upset?” he asked again and grabbed your jaw carefully, making you form eye contact.

“No,” you said simply, and the honesty in your voice surprised you. It was like all the hard feelings were erased by his eyes, by their calming color.

“Good,” he smiled, “Because you shouldn’t be upset.”

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ll bring you all the flowers from my mother’s garden if you’re not upset,” he traced his fingers up to your cheek, placing a strand of hair behind your red ear – all your emotions ran to your head, making the skin he touched burn.

“Why?” you asked again like a curious kid.

He rolled his eyes in a playful way, trying to pretend he was tired of your whys. “Because a pretty face like yours shouldn’t frown. You’ll get wrinkles,” he laughed and pinched your nose.

“Auch,” you hissed, massaging the end of your nose. “You say I’m pretty?”

“I say it’s time to get you back to your Common Room,” he nodded his head and got up, offering you his hand to help you get up.

The walk to the Ravenclaw’s door was silent, and when you got there it was an even more annoying silence. He only watched you like he was waiting for your next move.

“Uh, I can’t come tomorrow night,” you informed him. “I have to help my roommate study for Transfiguration.”

“So she’s stealing my study buddy,” he joked.

“I’ll see you around, though?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smiled and you just wanted to kiss that little dimple of his.

So you did – you got up to your toes and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Draco,” you smiled and entered the empty room, all your housemates already being off to their dormitories, probably. Your heart was pouting hard, like it was trying to escape the little cage of your ribs, but your soul was feeling warm and sweet, like honey.

The next day you tried to focus in all your classes, you tried to pay attention to your friends but all you could think of was Draco Malfoy, with his blue eyes and sweet dimple. It was a boring night the one you spent in your room, listening and explaining to your roommate simple things about your Transfiguration class, the same ones that Draco found difficult – even that made you think about him. It was a great relief to walk again on the stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, the excitement making your heart jump with joy. It dropped to the bottom of your soul when you didn’t find him there, and it broke when he didn’t come at all.

Maybe you scared him – maybe he didn’t want you to kiss his cheek, maybe he didn’t want you so close to him. Maybe you screwed it up. And you really believed that when he didn’t come two nights in a row, making you to skip dinner on the third night. You didn’t have the power to cry again, but you really wanted to – you nearly managed to get a tear out of you if it wouldn’t be eagle owl which entered your room through the open window.

“What’s up with you, stupid bird?” you asked in anger, making the owl give you a response in the same tonality. “Easy,” you spoke as you took the little parchment from its claw.

‘You didn’t come to dinner, are you sick? If you are, take a good sleep and get better. — D.M'

You crumbled the little letter and thrown it away telling the bird to leave you alone. You walked from left to right, biting your nails out of anxiety and anger – who was he to ignore you three days and then ask to meet you? You grabbed the letter from the floor and read it again, and the curiosity won against your anger. You grabbed a blue sweater and ran to the Astronomy Tower, but walked the steps so he wouldn’t know the speed with which you came. You were furious at him – you couldn’t wait to scream at him and tell him to fuck off with his unhealthy behaviors, but when you saw him leaning on the stone wall in front of you with a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and a small box on the other one, you just froze on the last step.

“Hello, Y/N,” he greeted you with a smile on the corner of his lips. You approached him slowly; your eyes going from his face go his hands and back to his hands. “I see you’re not sick,” he said when you were in front of him. “Why haven’t you come to dinner?”

“Why didn’t you give me a sign of living?” you asked straight, searching for his eyes.

“I was… busy,” he said and cleared his throat. “But I asked my mother to get me those,” he smiled and handed you the bouquet of chrysanthemums and the little box. “Open it,” he asked impatient.

You undone the little bow and opened it with one hand, the other holding carefully the flowers. Your hands were shaking. “Chocolate,” you laughed nervous.

“From Belgium, just like the flowers,” he said proud, smiling. “Don’t you like them?” he asked a little panicked when you didn’t say a thing, only watching the flowers in such an examining way.

“I love them!” you said, “I love them, Draco,” you assured them, holding them to your chest like you were scared he’d get them back.

“Good, I hoped you’d say that.”

You smelt them, and your whole soul was dancing – the sweet smell reminded you of the late autumn’s rains, of the lazy sunrays and all the nice skies in the world.

“I love them Draco, but what’s the occasion?”

He massaged the back of his head, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t need a reason to get flowers, Y/N. You deserve them anytime,” he said and your heart exploded at his cuteness. “My mother told me it’d be nice if I would give them to you before anything else,” he said and bite his lower lip immediately after, like he said something he didn’t mean to.

“Before what, Draco?” you asked curious. He was so good at making you all set on fire, unfocused and yet so, so concentrated on him.

“You’re a nice girl, Y/N, really nice,” he said in a quiet voice. His tonality made you thought about a break-up – like he wanted to break the bond that began to form between you two.

“What are you trying to tell me, Draco?” you asked in a harsh tone. “Just say it, ok? You don’t need to bring me flowers and chocolate if you want to say goodbye, it’s not like I’m dying,” you said pointing to the chrysanthemums.

“No, no, Y/N,” he interrupted you. “The white chrysanthemums represent loyalty and devoted love,” he whispered.

“Oh,” was all you could say. “Oh,” you repeated when you figured out what he really meant.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, and you laughed along with him. The sound of his laugh made your heart put itself back together. “So…” he started and came closer to you.

“So?” you said, biting your lips and blinking slowly.

“So may I kiss you, Y/N?” he asked in such a kind voice, all your body going soft at his words. His mother must’ve taught him how to talk to a girl – and she did such a good job.

You nodded shyly and let yourself carried by his hands, which dragged your body closer to his. He gently pressed his lips on your, letting them stay together for a couple of seconds and then retiring. His blue eyes were looking into yours, burning with desire and impatience. Your hands tightened the flowers and the little box harder, and you put them around his neck, getting him even closer to you and smashing your lips back together. His hands were on your waist, grabbing the material of your sweater between his fingers. Your eyes were closed and your body was filled with warmth – you saw nothing and yet, somehow, you were aware of everything in the Universe through a white light.

 White light in your arms tonight / I lost sight in your arms tonight / It was nice

 The next months were full of love and laughs for you – Draco was the most careful boy you’ve ever been with. He still wanted you two to have secret little dates in the Astronomy Tower, where you’d read to him about Muggles and poetry written by them.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute that I listen to you reading about that non-sense?” he asked once.

“It’s poetry, Draco,” you scoffed, “It’s about love!”

Besides the secret dates, he really wanted to go public. He was the type to show you off in front of everyone, only to make sure that every other boys knew that you were off their league but in a kind way – he’d kiss your forehead on the hallways, walk you to classes even if that meant he’d be late to his and gave you endless gifts. You received a lot of chrysanthemums, love letters and sweets anytime his mother would send him a package. Your roommates were jealous of you even if they told you directly that they didn’t like Draco and there was nothing to do about it. Hermione wasn’t so happy either and somehow distanced herself from you when she found out about your relationship, but Draco made you to forget all those things – he was the bad guy in everyone’s story, and even if some time ago he wasn’t even a side-character in yours, he became the climax of your story. You didn’t love Draco for his gift, you loved him truly – you loved him for the kind words, the warm glares, the sweet kisses and the tight hugs. And you knew he loved you too, because he made you feel safe in the whole madness with the Dark Lord and the war everyone was talking about.

“Do you think there’ll be a war, Draco?” you asked one night when you two where curled up into each other’s arms.

“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said absent.

“I heard that Harry’s forming an army,” you said and looked up to him, only to see him rolling his eyes.

“Potter isn’t capable to tie his own laces, my love, and you think he’s able to lead an army?” he laughed and that made you roll your eyes. “You’re funny.”

“But you’re the only one taking it as a joke, you’re the one who’s laughing,” you said and he frowned.

“Then I think I have to change that,” he said and his fingers came to your ribs, tickling you.

You started to laugh hard, to fight so you could escape his torture, begging him to stop. “Draco, that’s enough!” you screamed as you felt tears in your eyes, so you grabbed his arm and tried to scratch him playfully to make him stop.

Hissing, he let you go and pulled away from you, his hand over the left arm.

“What’s wrong, baby?” you asked worried that you hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said in an annoyed voice, getting up on his feet and looking down to you. “I’m fine,” he said and something in your mind clicked. For more than two weeks he’d say that stupid phrase whenever you asked him what happened – he seemed tired and anxious, but whenever you’d ask about him he’d become fine.

“Don’t try to fool me, Draco,” you said annoyed as well and, already on your feet, you’d try to grab his hand and reveal the possible wound.

“I said I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated and avoided your hands like they’d burn him.

“And I said to stop fooling me!” you shouted and sneaked close enough to him to get his hand away from his arm, but he pushed you harder than he thought – you fell on the ground, a piece of material in your hand; his sleeve – ripped, revealing red lines, scratches – who were older, but reopened by your nails – which were covering the worst thing you could think of: the Dark Mark. The air left your lungs and your head started to spin, the vision becoming blurred.

“Y/N…” he tried to say, coming closer to you but you crawled away.

“What the fuck, Draco?!” you screamed and got up by yourself. “Stay away!” you said when he tried to approach you.

“I can explain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking.

“How on earth you could explain the Dark Mark on your arm?” you shouted again, your hands running in your hair and pulling it.

“Sh,” he said loud, asking you to be quiet. “It’s not what it looks like, my love, I swear.”

You laughed – loud, nervous. “Then what it is?”

“They made me do it, Y/N!”

“They made you get the Dark Mark, become a fucking Death Eater and join Voldemort?” you screamed again and step back when he tried to come closer.

“My father, he… I didn’t want to, Y/N,” he said quietly, his eyes starting to get wet.

“You lied to me, Draco,” you whispered. “You said everything will be fine, you said you’ll protect me!”

“And I will!” he also screamed. “I will,” he repeated breathing heavily.

“How? Making me join the Death Eaters so they wouldn’t kill me later?” you mocked him, and you could say it hurt him to see you that way – but you didn’t care.

“Nobody will kill you, Y/N,” he said, trying to calm you. “You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine.”

“A war is coming, Draco,” you said harshly, “The Dark Lord is alive and back and anyone who’s against him is in danger.”

“You’re not in danger, Y/N,” he repeated. “We’re in this together, please, love,” he begged you, tears running down his face.

“We’re not on the same side, Draco,” you whispered.

“I thought you didn’t like to pick sides,” he said like he was trying to make you change your mind.

“We’re talking about a war, Draco, not a fucking fight in the courtyard,” you said and shook your head. “Just… leave me alone, please,” you asked him and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please!” he grabbed your wrist but you pulled away immediately.

“Don’t touch me ever again, Draco Malfoy,” you said in hatred, giving him a disgusted look before leaving him alone in the Astronomy Tower – alone, hurt and crying. He saw the disgust in your eyes, the hate and the fear.

Hard times came for you – you decided to act like nothing was happening, like you had no idea what Draco was and a part of you felt miserable for doing so, but other part was believing him, the other part was still loving him and it was hurting to see him and not run in his arms. You decided to let the time pass and decide what would happen with everything – but the time was cruel, because nothing good happened since that night. Dumbledore’s death, the Death Eaters, the continuing agony. You became scared to stay alone, thinking that a Death Eater or even Voldemort would show up and kill you – and Draco wouldn’t be there to protect you.

But when the real battle began, you felt all the adrenaline rushing through your body – Professor McGonagall seemed worried but she gave you the power to fight back, to fight for Hogwarts, for your friends, for Harry, for life. You never tried to spell hexes because it wasn’t necessary, but in the battles you had with some Death Eaters you remembered them all – and you casted them loud, pointing your wand in their direction with hatred. You were running on the same old stairs that led you to the Astronomy Tower, a loud and crazy laugh following you along with a curly hair and dark, mad eyes, thirsty for blood.

“Stop running, little doll!” she screamed when you got up, waiting for her with your wand ready, something that made her laugh. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” she asked and walked closer to you with tangled steps.

“Crazy one, aren’t you?” you managed to gather your nerve to ask her. She didn’t seem too happy with your comment, because she lifted her wand – before she’d say anything, you screamed the Disarming Charm as loud as you could, making her wand fly from her hand and fall to the ground.

“Well, well,” she laughed, running her tongue over her bloody lips. “You won, now kill me!” she laughed, the sound driving you crazy.

“Shut up! Just shut up!”

“Kill me!”

“Crucio!” you screamed and the green light flashed from the tip of your wand, hitting Bellatrix Lestrange in the middle of her chest. She fell to the ground, laughing – it was hurting, but Bellatrix have been insane for a long, long time.

“Y/N!”

“Draco?” you said to yourself, watching the boy you loved running to you. He grabbed your shoulders, looking at you from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

You looked at Bellatrix who was still to the ground, and you tighten your fingers around the wand.

“No,” you said and looked back to Draco. He seemed fine and a part of you wanted to scream that he was fine because he was one of them, they wouldn’t hurt him like that crazy woman tried to do to you, but the other part won that battle. You hugged him tight, wanting to make all the things disappear and be just you and him. “I’m scared, Draco,” you whispered.

“You’ll be fine, love,” he said and kissed your temple.

“So she’s the little doll that got you all soft, Draco?”

The fear ran through your body again and you pulled away from Draco, still holding his hands.

“Please,” he said and looked at the crazy woman who got her wand back. He let go of your hand and grabbed his wand, pointing it to her.

“Aw, Draco darling,” she laughed, “Does Cissy know that you’re pointing your want to your family?”Family?

“Aunt Bella, please, don’t hurt her,” Draco breathed heavily, not taking his eyes off of her.

“But she hurt me, Draco,” Bellatrix laughed, got her wand in your direction and casted an unspoken spell, only saying your name.

Draco tried to protect you, getting in front of you, but the purple light went through him and entered your body. The pain was indescribable, like all your internal organs were stabbed with hundred of knives. “No!” he screamed at his aunt, who only laughed louder and waved him goodbye before disappearing into a black cloud of smoke.

You’d feel your members go numb, dropping your wand and falling to the ground, making Draco to scream again like he could physically feel your agony. “Y/N!” he screamed.

Some balls of light were thrown in the tower’s direction, by the people outside, and they made the windows in the roof break, falling upon you along with pieces of tiles. Your sight went blurry, seeing Draco through red spots. “What’s happening, Draco?” you managed to ask him.

“You’re fine, my love,” he cried, tightening your shoulders, trying to hug you without hurting you.

“I can’t see you, hear you,” you cried and coughed; he started to sob even harder, watching the blood drop from your eyes and mouth as you tried to breathe. “I don’t feel very good,” you told him as it weren’t obvious.

“You’ll be alright, my love, stay with me,” he begged you.

His tears were falling on your face, mixing with the blood that was leaving your body – Bellatrix Lestrange chose a curse that gave you a slow and painful death.

“Hey, you,” you said, trying to make him pay attention to you. You looked him in the eyes, trying hard to see them clear. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cute?”

“What?” he whispered.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda cute,” you repeated, “That I died right inside your arms tonight?”

“No! No! No!” he said, his voice shaking. “Don’t you dare to do this to me, Y/N! Do you hear me? Stay with me!”

But you were gone – you left that world with a little smile on your lips, with bloody tears on your face and with the memory of his eyes watching you, of his arms holding you. And that made death a less painful thing for you.

 That I'm fine even after I have died / Because it was in your arms I died

 “No, Y/N!” he screamed, realizing you were gone. “Come back! Come back, Y/N, you own me one!”

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you whispered while watching him from behind – you could also see your lifeless body, laying on the ground with glass pieces, rocks and blood all over it and it made  you cry. You floated over your body and tried the stupidest thing you could think of: going back inside. But it was impossible – it felt like it was locked. Bloody tears were falling from your eyes, and you damned Bellatrix Lestrange for giving you such an ugly death: you’ll cry blood for eternity on the Hogwarts’ halls as a ghost. “I want to come back, Draco!” you screamed at the same time when he asked you to come back.

 I cry in the afterlife / I cry hard because I have died / And you're alive / I try to escape the afterlife / I try hard to get back inside / Your arms tonight

 The battle was over: Lord Voldemort was now dead, Bellatrix Lestrange was dead along with other Death Eaters, but so were a lot of innocent people: now, some students would stay forever in the castle because they chose to remain behind; they, just like you, were too scared of death and chose an imitation of life. As a ghost, you didn’t really felt like showing to everyone; it hurt you enough to know they missed you, and to see their broken souls when they’d realize you’re trapped in this world as a ghost would be more painful than your death. You knew nothing about Draco for a long time – you stayed in the tower all the time, and you already knew that after some years, when the school would be rebuilt, the little kids would call you the ghost of the Astronomy Tower – that thought made you smile; maybe they’d call you Bloody Y/N, or Bloody Crybaby Y/N, or… whatever name would fit a blood-crying ghost. That’s how you spent many months – thinking, crying, whishing you’d have chose the death.

A loud cry woke you up one day – you looked over to the balustrade, where a tall figure was shaking while looking down, down all the way to the ground. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said and you recognized him easily. “I’m so fucking sorry, my love,” he cried again and you approached him. On the ground, at his feet, was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums – they made your eyes tear up immediately.

“I promised you I’d protect you and I failed,” he whispered. “I hate myself since that day, my love,” he confessed.

To let him know about your presence was a bad idea – he’d be devastated to see you that way.

“I’ll see you soon, love,” he spoke to himself, or so he thought because he jumped in surprise when you screamed.

“Wait!”

“Y/N…” he cried, now facing you and crying harder. “You’re… alive?”

“Draco…” you sighed, “What are you doing here?”

He came closer and tried to hug you, but his arms went through you with ease. “You’re… a ghost.”

“Please don’t jump,” you said crying harder than him. It was a horrible image, indeed, to see a blood-crying ghost – but he was in love with you.

“I miss you, Y/N, I want to be with you,” he told you like he asked for permission.

But you shook your head in disapproval. “You won’t like it here, darling,” you smiled. “Please, stay – be happy and live.”

“I love you, Y/N, how could I live without you?” he cried like a little child, helpless.

You pointed to the flowers. “If your love is devoted, you’d spend the rest of your life fulfilling my wish, Draco.”

“Y/N…”

“Stay alive, Draco. I’ll be here, always,” you promised and cried.

He ran his hands through his hair, his blue eyes crying you a river. When he calmed down, he bent over and grabbed the flowers, handing them to you. You cried in pain, but still tried to get them – and you where surprised when you could.

“Come back to me, Y/N,” he said and you tried your best to make his wish come true. You tried to hug him, to kiss his forehead – he could swear he felt your cold skin on his.

“I wish I could, my love,” you said and stayed in front of him, with the sign of his devoted love in your hand.

 And hey (hey), you (you), don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) try (try) to escape the afterlife / That I (I) try (try) to get back in your arms alive / That I died in your arms

[yourhero404]

I'm loving this fantasy bakugou story! Do you think you could do the same concept, but with todoroki? Thank you! <3

A/N: I SURE CAN MY FRIEND AND OH BOY DO I HAVE A STORY FOR YOU IT MIGHT SEEM A LITTLE DRAB AT FIRST BUT YOU’LL WANNA STAY TUNED

and just in case someone hasn’t read the Fantasy!Bakugo ones that were mentioned, there’s ONE, TWO and THREE! ^^

FANTASY!TODOROKI

Slowly, his eyelids rolled back, exposing his eyes to the ray of light laying upon his face. He blinked- once, twice, three times- focusing on the figures leaning above him, he was thankful one of them blocked the light so he could see. His instincts told him something was wrong, and that he shouldn’t lay there motionless as these forms could be potentially dangerous- he had to think and be cautious, moving incorrectly could potentially cause harm. He could lay there and pretend to be dead- no, that was ridiculous. He could fight back- yes! If he were to just simply twist his hips in this fashion, his legs could-

“Uh… Todoroki? Are you alright?” a voice he recognized spoke and jogged him from his thoughts. 

Once his eyes readjusted and the figures became clear, he saw the familiar green hair of his adventurer friend he had met along his travels.

“Ah, the squire- I was afraid you were someone else.” He didn’t notice the confused look on his face as he sat up, eyes rolling over the other two faces, “The mage and tavern girl as well. I thought the two of you had left for supplies.” 

“Todoroki, what are you talking about?” Ochaco had asked, concern laced in her voice.

“Do you suppose he’s delirious due to a heat stroke? That costume can’t be very insulated,” Tsuyu insinuated. 

Costume? What was she talking about? He looked down- no, he was wearing the clothes he had previously been wearing. He started to hyper focus on the gold-plated buttons on his shirt, eyebrows drawing together as he gathered his thoughts. Calmly, he stood up and unsheathed his sword, letting the handle roll in his hand a bit before swinging it so the tip sat mere inches away from Izuku’s throat.

“Who are you.” He demanded an answer rather than asking, his voice going cold.

“W-wait! What are you talking about? We’re your friends!” Izuku swallowed hard, “It’s me, Midoriya!”

“Where did he get an actual sword?” Tsuyu wondered aloud, causing Shoto to turn his blade onto her instead.

“Where I acquired my weapon is none of your business, imposter. Now answer my question and we can attempt to make peace,” If his gaze hadn’t come off icy before, it definitely did now as his eyes narrowed. 

Shoto took a few steps back, hoping to gain distance between them in the event that he needs to escape rather than take the fight head on. Assessing the situation, they didn’t seem to be hostile- in fact, their expressions seemed laced with concern rather than hints of any ill intentions; But who were they? It was fairly obvious they weren’t who he first thought of- Black magic, maybe?  Some sort of duplicate spell? He thought back to the books within the castles study- nothing he remembered reading spoke of this level of witchcraft… did this land have a stronger magic source than his did? He let his eyes wander to his surroundings again- just what was this land anyway?

“…roki?” the apparently Izuku snapped him from his thoughts once again, “Todoroki? Are you alright?” he asked again. 

Shoto sighed and sheathed his sword once again, pinching the bridge of his nose a moment before muttering to himself about getting in such a situation. In an attempt to seem unthreatening, he held out his palms in front of him and moved them slowly.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” he started, “Now if you allow me to look for my steed, I have something I’m trying to find.”

“Steed?” Ochaco whispered, “Is Todoroki in some sort of improv group?”

Izuku studied him a moment, noticing just how nicely made his clothes were. Shoto felt the gaze run over his clothing, but he paid no mind and allowed himself to scan his surroundings for any sign of his horse. He found no prints and frowned- he heard rustling in the leaves behind him, but he couldn’t risk his life by turning his back to this trio. In moments like this, he had to think- what would they do? His adventurer friend, the heroes of the land- his knight. Think, Shoto, think- keep calm. He closed his eyes a moment, hoping the answer would wash over him by doing so. He should run- it was the safest option in an unknown land against what could potentially be deadly warlocks. But could he do it? Would he be able to run fast enough to avoid-

“Were you calling for me?”

His eyes shot open at the realization that his voice rang out- but he had not opened his own mouth. 

With his hand on the handle of his blade he turned quickly, ready to draw his weapon, but found his feet encased in a patch of ice. Following the trail of ice, his eyes locked with an identical pair- both seemed to widen at the scene as confused screams echoed behind him. 

Everything about him seemed the same- well, aside from the drab clothing and (newly? Possibly? There was no other way to word it to himself) found ice powers. Had he gotten blessed by the Goddess of Ice in this world? Their movements were alike in nature- soft and easy going, never making a move unless needed. 

It finally dawned on him- this was him. Maybe not… him, but him of this world. His doppelganger, as one might call it. He glanced at the trio to his side now- they must be the mirrored images of his friends as well. He sighed, chipping away at the ice with the tip of his sword to free himself; He made a soft gesture before putting his sword back where it belonged.

“It seems as though I’m no longer in my own world.” 

“Own world, what do you mean?” this worlds Shoto had asked. When he looked back at him, it seemed as though his mirrored image had started to grasp the situation- he had to admit, this version of him was much quicker on the uptake than he was. 

“I thought perhaps I found myself in an unknown land outside of my kingdom- but it’s obvious now that I’ve found myself in some sort of… what did the headmaster call it… ‘Alternate Universe’,” turning to Izuku and company, he gestured, “And by your faces, my assumption that you were a group Dark Mages was incorrect.”

“Dark Mages?!” both Izuku and Ochaco had called out in disbelief. Tsuyu seemed to nod at the information and offer her forgiveness without him even needing to ask.

“So if you’re from some ‘Alternate Universe’…” the other Shoto started.

“You’re just going to disregard that?!” Izuku interjected.

“…How did you get here? It’s hard to believe that there really is such a thing,” he finished, “So if you’re an alternate version of me, how is your life there?”

Shoto could tell his double seemed on edge with his last question- apparently his life in this world wasn’t as glamourous as it appeared either. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved he wasn’t the only one having to deal with a troublesome life or to feel bad that misery will find him everywhere. Running a hand through his hair before turning to address the groups as a whole, he straightened out his back to appear more like his proper self.

“So are there alternate versions of us too?” Tsuyu asked, finger tapping on her chin. 

Shoto extended his arm to point at each corresponding person.

“Tavern girl. Mage. Adventurer, as well as the squire to the hero All Might himself.” Shoto watched the boy tense up and diffuse the action by waving his hands.

“As for us,” he turned to his double, “I’m Prince Shoto of the Todoroki family. With all disregard to previous kingdom rules, my father has designated me the heir to the throne.” Looking to the ground, his voice grew quiet, “Despite my wishes, of course.”

He sighed and looked to the sky, then to the far off brush between the trees before speaking again.

“As for how I got here… I don’t know. There was this large wave of… energy, and I found myself slowly blacking out.” His eyes closed as he recalled the scene.

He had been walking along side his horse through the woods, seeing no need to ride him at the given moment. The sunlight peeked through the leaves- his mind was full of thoughts. Where should he head next? Did he have enough supplies? How was he going to feel if he accomplished his mission? His horse started to get rowdy, thrashing its head all around in an attempt to get out of its reigns. Before Shoto could even ask what was wrong, it stood on its back legs, neighing in fear as it started to run on the opposite direction; Shoto called after it when he felt the odd burst of energy hit his back. He turned towards it, taking one, two, three steps as the corners of his eyes started to fade to black; Eventually, his head started to feel light as he noticed the ground get closer- before he knew what hit him, quite literally, he was knocked out cold.

“I can see why you weren’t as panicked when you woke up then…” Izuku started after his story, “Since you were already in a forest, it probably didn’t register that it wasn’t the same.”

“Yes, exactly. It’s also why I didn’t question the three of you- until Asui called my attire a ‘costume’, then I noticed your own clothing was different. Like I said, I was searching for something, but now, I’m here.” Shoto answered, opening his eyes to look at them. “Where is… here, exactly?”

“This is UA, a hero academy!” Ochaco lit up, clapping her hands together, “We’re students here, training to be the next pro heroes!”

“A hero academy?” he looked perplexed, “Do your heroes not pick one student and appoint them as their squire?”

“No, a handful of us are in a class together and get taught by many different heroes,” Tsuyu answered, “So back home it’s more of a one on one type of schooling?”

“I suppose so,” he nodded in understanding. He turned from them again, looking amongst the trees- he could hear something off in the distance, but couldn’t quite place what it was.

“You said you were looking for something. What was it?” the hero-in-training Shoto interjected into the conversation- the prince answered without looking back at him.

“A person.”

The sounds Shoto heard a minute ago came closer- it sounded like two people arguing but only one set of running footsteps. He thought it was odd- maybe one of their friends?

“A person? Like who?” Izuku asked carefully, hoping not to step on any of the prince’s boundaries. 

“My knight.”

Closer. Those voices are becoming clearer with each passing second- should he hide? Would the doppelgangers of this world be as accepting as the mirror images of his friends have been? Should he prepare for a fight, in case it’s a foe rather than a friend? His hand brushed the handle of his sword as he let his ears drown out any sound but the approaching one.

Suddenly, the brush in front of him practically exploded as a heavy body ran through it. After shielding his eyes from the oncoming leaves, he caught a glimpse of them as the couple continued rushing by with no intentions of stopping any time soon. He whipped around, pointing to the barbarians back as an angry (S/o)’s hands beat on his chest.

“Them.”

[defenselesswriter]

Hey! Just read your Baker!Derek fic and... IT'S AMAZING! PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE could you give us more? I'm dying of curiosity with what will happen and I just loved Derek's interaction with the sheriff, haha. Anyway, thanks for writing bc it's already awesome!

since i actually got a few requests to finish it here's a part two. you can find part 1 here and part 3 here

That night, out of nowhere, Derek decided to cook homemade lasagna. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to make his own noodles because things at the bakery took longer than he wanted, but store bought is fine. He finds it comforting to go through the methods of cooking this dish. Stirring together the ricotta and mozzarella. Making homemade sauce and chopping up garlic to go into it. Then he focuses on lining the pan with noodles and then layering the ingredients together. It really quiets his mind and prevents him from freaking about Stiles.

Of course, as soon as it’s in the oven and Derek is done cleaning up, all he has is time to freak the fuck out. He is kind of pretty sure he has a thing for Stiles, and Stiles might have a thing for him, which is even scarier. But it’s too soon to tell, Derek is sure of it. And really, they just barely met, so why is he freaking out?

Probably because it’s been so long since he has ever dated. He hasn’t had time lately, so it’s kind of been on the back burner, but now Stiles is right there and well…he doesn’t want to say no to this.

There’s a knock on the back door, so Derek goes to answer it with a, “You know you can use the front door, right?”

“This just seems like our thing,” Stiles says with a shrug, and for the first time, Stiles is wearing jeans a v-neck at Derek’s house. It’s not a swimsuit. Why isn’t he wearing a swimsuit?

“Uh, come in, I guess?” Derek says, taking a step back and letting Stiles into his house.

“I didn’t say this last time I was here, but you have a nice house,” Stiles comments, looking around the kitchen. “A really big, open kitchen. My mom would’ve loved it. She loved baking too.”

Derek smiles softly at that.

“What do I smell?” Stiles asks, sniffing again.

“Garlic?” Derek suggests.

“Definitely.” Stiles nods. “And something else. Tomatoes, like a red sauce.” Then he looks at the oven and sees it’s on. “Lasagna?”

“Yup,” Derek answers. “And you’re more than welcome to have some. There’s more than plenty. You can even take some home to your dad.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Stiles mumbles. “Did you use real sausage?”

“Chicken sausage actually,” Derek tells him.

Stiles lights up. “Then maybe I can bring some home to him.”

“You didn’t wear your swimsuit,” Derek can’t help but point out.

Stiles looks down as if he expected to be wearing something else or like he didn’t know what he was wearing. “Yeah, I figured maybe tonight we could just hangout or something. If you’re cool with that.”

Derek really, really hopes the sheer panic he feels isn’t clear on his face, but the way Stiles starts to retreat into himself and look sad makes it seem like maybe it is. Derek is quick to say, “I’m cool with it.”

Again, Stiles lights up with a smile and looks like Derek just made his day.

They’re quiet for a few moments before Stiles brings up the brownies. “They were really good. What did you put in them?”

“I tried putting fudge in them,” Derek explains, leaning against the counter. “I haven’t experimented much with my brownies, and I suddenly got inspired to. I want to try making mint brownies.”

“Well, if you need a taste tester, my mouth is yours,” Stiles tells him and then his eyes widen in panic. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. That came out totally wrong, and it was inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

Derek laughs and runs a hand through his hair, feeling lighter than he has in a while. “It’s okay. I get what you meant. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Stiles smiles softly at that, looking almost like he is suddenly shy around Derek, which is weird. The man broke into Derek’s yard while he was away and used his pool. That doesn’t strike Derek as the characteristics of a shy person, but maybe there’s more to Stiles than meets the eye.

“Do you want a drink or something?” Derek asks, remembering that he is a host and should be polite.

“I wouldn’t mind water,” Stiles answers.

Derek pushes himself off the counter and grabs a glass to fill it up with water.

“You don’t have to get it for me,” Stiles comments. “I feel like I’m a little passed the guest stage.”

“I don’t think you were ever in that stage,” Derek laughs, looking over at him. That’s when Derek is struck with how beautiful Stiles is. His face is just…Derek doesn’t have words. The way his eyes shine in the kitchen lights, though. That’s…incredible. They almost look like honey, and Derek wants to maybe stare at them forever.

Stiles looks a little awestruck as well like he is just seeing Derek for the first time. “What color are your eyes?” he asks with a laugh.

“Hazel,” Derek answers automatically before realizing he’s spilling water all over his hand because the cup is full. He immediately takes the cup back and pours a touch of water down the sink so it isn’t spilling over anymore. “Here’s your water.”

Stiles reaches and grabs it, their fingers brushing as he does. “Thanks, dude.”

“So why did you leave so suddenly last night?” Derek asks.

It takes a moment for Stiles to answer because his head is tipped back as he drinks the water, and Derek gets to admire how long it is and how his Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. Stiles finally puts the water on the counter and runs a hand through his hair, not looking at Derek. “Uh, I just remembered I had a thing to do.”

“A thing?” Derek asks, trying to get more information.

Stiles shrugs. “A thing with my best friend. We’re currently working on planning his wedding, which isn’t saying much because his fiancee and her best friend are mostly calling the shots, but we’re helping where we can, you know?”

Derek nods. “I helped my sister plan her wedding, but honestly, I didn’t do much. She was pretty set on what she wanted, and she’s headstrong and very determined to do things herself.”

“She sounds awesome,” Stiles laughs, taking a sip of his water.

“She is,” Derek agrees, knowing he has a fond smile on his face. He really does love his family. “She usually is my taste tester, but…”

“But what?” Stiles asks, picking up on Derek’s hesitance.

Derek shrugs. “I wanted a new perspective on stuff as I’m trying new things. Plus, she’s my sister. She has to support me.”

Stiles laughs and sets down his water. “I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child. How many siblings do you have? What’s it like?” He puts his hands on the counter and then jumps up so he’s sitting atop it, letting his legs dangle.

“Don’t scuff my cabinets,” Derek quickly says before Stiles can do anything. “And I have two sisters, one older and one younger. It’s like having someone in your life that you can switch from hating them to loving them within seconds, but also there’s no question that you always love them, you know?”

Stiles nods, looking serious for once. “I have that with my best friend. He’s as close to a brother as I have.”

“What’s his name?” Derek asks.

“Scott,” Stiles answers, smiling fondly. “We’ve been best friends since we were in preschool. We’ve been through so much together. I could never imagine my life without him.”

The conversation strikes something in Derek. Something about seeing Stiles’ deeper emotional side really appeals to him, makes him even more intrigued about Stiles. “I feel the same way about my sisters,” Derek finally says.

The oven timer starts beeping, signaling that the lasagna is done, so Derek quickly goes to pull it out.

“Sweet, it’s done!” Stiles exclaims, jumping off the counter to come up behind Derek to look at it. “Looks picture perfect honestly. Baker and a cook. What a catch. How are you still single?” Stiles backs up at that, so Derek looks behind at him. “If you are single. I don’t know that you’re not, and that’s quite the assumption to make wow.”

“I’m single,” Derek laughs. “And the lasagna needs to cool before I can cut it.”

“What’s with you and cooling things down?” Stiles sighs, looking grumpy, but there’s a smile that he’s trying to hide.

“If you cut it too early then it cracks,” Derek argues. “And it’s just what my dad always did, so I just follow his methods.”

Stiles laughs, throwing his head back. “That’s so adorable that you just follow what your dad tells you.”

“Says the person who wants to be just like his dad when he grows up,” Derek points out.

Stiles stops laughing, but still has a smile on his face, and he looks like he is genuinely enjoying this conversation with Derek. Derek doesn’t see that look on people’s faces very often. “Touche,” Stiles concedes. “So I’ll be patient.”

“Doesn’t seem like that’s a common occurrence for you,” Derek comments.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope, but I’ll be patient for you.”

Derek tries to not let that comment get to his head, but it does. In fact, it stays with him all through the night and well into the next day.

“Erica,” Derek almost whines, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t whine. “What does it mean?”

“What does what mean?” she asks, filing her nails as she leans against the counter in the back. She’s supposed to be helping stock the shelves with the goods Derek baked. He isn’t concerned, though, because she will do it before they open, and she arranges them so perfectly, so he doesn’t argue.

“What does it mean that he’ll be patient for me?” he asks her, already having given her a rundown of what’s been going on between Stiles and him.  

“I don’t know,” she says dryly. “Sounds like he’s got the hots for you.”

“What do I do about that?” Derek is a little out of practice. He probably hasn’t dated since college, and admittedly, it’s been a few years since then.

She shrugs and looks up at him, pulling her hair up into a ponytail that signals she’s about to get to work. “Ask him out,” she answers.

“It’s not that simple,” Derek argues.

“It’s not?” she asks, unconvinced.

He shakes his head. “He’s the sheriff’s son.”

“Wait, your neighbor is Stiles?” Erica asks, her face lighting up as she laughs. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You have the hots for Stilinski.”

Derek looks around, knowing no one is around, but he has to double check because no one can know he has the hots for Stiles. No one. “Not so loud,” he whispers.

She rolls her eyes. “No, this is way too funny. I used to have a crush on him in high school. Before I found Boyd.”

“Really?” Derek asks. “Is there a reason you stopped having a crush on him?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t ever notice me, then I met Boyd, and the rest is history.” She looks Derek in the eye seriously for a moment before speaking. “He’s a good guy, Derek, and he wears his emotions on his face. Be careful with him. For what it’s worth, I think he’d be good for you.” She pats his shoulder before she walks out to prep the display case.

Derek takes a deep breath to settle himself and think about everything. Yes, he’s into Stiles. Yes, Stiles is probably into him, but is he ready to further this?

For the first time in what seems like a week, Stiles doesn’t come that night. At all. Not even late at night to swim. Derek doesn’t want to admit that he misses him, but….well, Derek misses Stiles. Just a little bit.

The next day, Derek actually gets to sleep in since Boyd is handling the baking today. It’s such a nice feeling being able to sleep in. He misses it. In fact, he has the day off. He does have to stop by the bakery to make sure everything’s running smoothly, but other than that, he can relax today. No meetings, no phone calls to make. He wakes up when he wants to without an alarm and then goes for a run.

When he gets back from his run, there’s someone at his front door. Derek can easily tell it’s Stiles who is knocking on his door. “Derek?” he calls out. “Come on, I know you’re in there. Your car is outside.”

“I’m not in there,” Derek says, making Stiles jump.

Stiles turns around, holding a hand to his chest. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“I scared you. I don’t think Jesus did.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and then his eyes do a once over of Derek. “Did you go jogging?”

“Yes?” Derek says, confused because Stiles’ tone sounded accusatory.

“I swear to God,” Stiles mumbles angrily looking away. “Whatever. I’m here to give you my phone number.”

“Your phone number?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “My phone number. You know, so I can let you know if I’m coming over or not coming over.”

“Sounds good,” Derek is quick to say. He wouldn’t mind having Stiles’ phone number. Just in case.

They switch phones and enter each other’s number in the phone and then hand them back.

“Where were you last night?” Derek asks, trying to be subtle about his concern.

Stiles smirks. “You saying you missed me, big guy?”

“No,” Derek tells him firmly. “I was just wondering. Curious, you know.”

Stiles nods, but is smiling like he knows the truth. Whatever the truth is. “Sure. I went out with Scott and his fiancee. All last minute.”

“Did you have fun?” Derek asks.

“I did.” Stiles smiles and shakes his head. “So we still on for tonight?”

“Sure,” Derek agrees.

“What are you making?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “I was thinking of ordering in tonight. Give myself the day off from cooking completely.”

“Are you still okay if I come over? I can skip tonight.” Stiles looks worried that Derek might actually say no. Little does he know…

“Sure!” Derek is quick to answer enthusiastically to ease Stiles’ worry. “Does seven work for you?”

“Seven is perfect,” Stiles tells him with a smile.

“Then it’s a date.” Derek nods solemnly.

“Yeah,” Stiles says and then his eyes widen comically. “Wait. A d-date? Like an actual date or are you just using the expression?”

Derek takes a moment to think about it. “Uh, let’s make it an actual date. See where everything goes?”

“Yeah, yes, perfect,” Stiles says quickly. “Sounds great. See you at seven.”