#consider: forbidden weighted blanket

[catilinas]

my resolution for 2024 is to be crushed to atoms between the roller rack shelves

[screamingintothestarss]

dark blue

summary: you’re hurting, and you don’t know if you can let hunter in

pairing: hunter x reader

rating: mature (17+)

warnings: mentions of drinking and alcohol, drunkenness, mentions of vomiting, angst, hurt with comfort, heavy feelings, kissing, non-explicit descriptions of sexual intimacy, mature themes in general, mutual pining, swearing, reader kinda sucks with emotions

word count: 3.9k

notes: bone apple teeth! dies

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Your arm hangs over the tub's porcelain edge, beads of water streaking down the skin like rain. Bubbles and foam have long dissolved, yet you remain uncomfortably unmoving, eyes waterlogged and heavy. You don’t know how long you’ve been submerged, your skin beginning to prune and wrinkle much like your demeanor tonight. The weight of your loathing pulls down on your eyes, and you let them slip closed. 

Pulsing lights, loud music, and a mass of writhing bodies replay under your eyelids. Your stomach sours, and the feeling claws up your throat like the drink you tossed back two hours ago. A drunken holo, strong hands, and the heady scent of him remind you of why you’re even here. You sink further down into the tub, hoping that somehow the water will wash away your guilt.

You hiss as a raw ankle brushes along the bottom; you’d figured those strappy heels weren’t a good idea, but it didn’t feel that way at the time. You had a good time, you think. You had a good time, but the tears streaming down your face held their own narrative. You let out a choked sob, but before you can consider pulling it together, a gentle knock at the door has you reeling.

“Are you okay?” Hunter’s voice comes through muffled from behind the door. His tone is dripping with worry, and the knot in your stomach tightens. 

Are you okay? The question hangs over your head like a forbidden fruit, daring you to bite. You want to sink your teeth in and spill your guts–to tell him that you're not okay and that you need him, that you want-

He calls your name, and you hear his hand settling on the door's console. His concern nearly breaks your heart.

A scratchy "fine" is all you can muster. You're trying to hold the pieces of yourself together, all jagged and misshapen, but your hands are beginning to bleed. 

You can still feel him hovering behind the door, the air heavy enough to cut through. You can’t trust yourself to say anything else. 

He knows he’s hovering; he knows that you know he’s hovering. He shouldn’t be, though. He should be giving you the space you need right now, not rolling a question in between his teeth. He swallows it, choosing to leave you be, and pads back over into the living room.

A holomovie plays on the television, but he pays it no mind. 

I'm losing it, he thinks, brown-grey eyes flitting towards the bathroom door every few seconds. His hands unconsciously twirl a pen in between deft fingers, senses on the cusp of overload. Normally the thought of you filled him with something warm and saccharine, like a blanket wrapped around his heart. But now, with you being in the state that you're in, he can't help but feel prickly and uncomfortable. 

He'd been asleep when he got the call, eyes glossed over, squinting over a blue comlink. Your slurred voice and drunken divulgences had him vertiginous, chest cracking open and hands all clammy. You hadn't spoken to each other since the misunderstanding, as you had put it, from two weeks ago. You said that you wanted your space, and he respected that. 

Now, he wanted nothing more than to just hold you. He's staring at the door, he realizes, unconsciously listening for any sign of you. 

He's your Jedi Knight; your protector. Without a doubt, he'd go to war for you, hands all filthy and bloodied and split if it meant yours could remain clean. 

It was also why he felt like utter shit when he pulled up to the bar to see you slumped over inside a comm booth. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Fuck," he breathes, clambering out of his speeder and making his way to you. He swears he's never moved faster in his life, the cuffs of his jeans dampening from each wet slap of his boots on the pavement. He approaches the glass doors, and his eyes focus on your watery form. The tendons in his heart snap. 

Your face is ruddy and sticky with sweat, strands of hair clinging to your forehead like a halo. A pretty dress is smattered with stains, no doubt from a drink, or drinks, that you'd likely spilled on yourself. Tears streak your face, taking what was left of your makeup with them.

You're a mess.

Without hesitation, he hooks his arm under your knees and uses the other to support your back. He shifts on his weight, and your cheek lazily slumps against his firm chest.

"I've got you," he breathes. "I've got you." 

His steps are careful, calculated. Like a painter unveiling his masterpiece, he cradles you with reverence. He lays you down gently in the backseat, sliding his jacket down strong arms and draping it over your pretty figure. Calloused fingers brush away the wisps of hair stuck to your face, and you begin to stir.

Your head lolls to the side, and a choked groan rolls out of your throat. You feel like a hammer is cracking down against your skull, a poisonous rhythm that has you almost spilling the contents of tonight on rubber floor liner. 

Hunter scrambles to the middle console, plucking a bottle from the cupholder. You feel a familiar hand on your arm, calm and inviting; the opposite of how you're feeling right now. His warmth is the eye of your storm, and you're craving more. 

"Hey," he rasps, his timbre clattering around in your ears, replacing the loud thump thump thumping of your heart. It's gentle and sweet, and your bleary eyes find his amidst a dark sky and flashing lights. 

"Hunt..." is all you can say, the word clawing its way through your teeth. 

A strong hand slides in between your shoulder blades, and slowly sits you up. The bottle of something is pressed to your lips, and you part them. The liquid runs down your throat; an oasis in a desert, it brings you back to life. 

"I'm gonna take us home, okay?"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Home. Even inebriated, his words had nearly knocked you flat on your ass. This wasn't your home, it was his. You were sitting in his bathtub, in his bathroom: in his home. 

He opened himself up to you in ways you didn't think possible; you held the keys to his heart, locked the door, and ran. 

You wanted to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him too. He was so sure, so hopeful that the stars had aligned it for you both. He was so sure that your souls had woven themselves together, an intricate tapestry of adoration and understanding no saber could cut through. Maybe the seams weren't strong enough.

Your watery reflection stares back at you, and your lungs constrict.

You can't do this.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You open the door, a cloud of hot steam following you as you pad towards the living room. Hunter had given you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts to wear, and the fabric clings awkwardly to your frame.

Hunter sits on the sofa, pretending to watch the TV. 

"Didn't know you had a thing for fixer-uppers," you tease. Your heart's not in it, but you want to break through the tension somehow. You miss the way he takes a breath before facing you.

You're fully clothed, yet you feel so naked in front of him. You want to cover up, throwing a flustered “Get out!” over your shoulder whilst you find something to conceal your vulnerability with.

Like a moth to a flame, his eyes are drawn to your light. You're swallowed by his shirt and his shorts, and it all begins to feel so domestic. He can't help it, letting his mind wander into uncharted territory–a thick jungle of things said and unsaid. Maybe he could've woken up to the sight of you in it, your face squished into plush pillows, serene as ever. Maybe he could've wrapped his arms around you, bunching the fabric up to your waist, tracing the sultry curve of thigh. He'd take care of you, love you the way you needed, the way you deserved.

Maybe he could've been something more to you.

You're melting under his gaze, white-hot electricity coursing through your veins. Your mouth opens.

"I'm-"

"Hey, I-"

You both speak at the same time; your lips clamp shut, and he does the same. He stares at you, silently begging you to say something. You take the hint.

"I'm sorry." The words feel like sandpaper on your tongue, the grit of your guilt spilling over. Every nerve in your body is lit ablaze, and you're too wrecked to snuff them out. 

Like a child who's been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, you want to run. You're looking this way and that, arms self-soothingly folded over your torso. You rock on the balls of your feet, unsure what to do with yourself.  

He sighs, thick and heavy. "Do you know what could've happened to you?" 

The implications are all there. Maker knows what could've happened had you not dialed his number. And you knew it. 

You're quiet. You don't know what else to say; what else is there to say?

Wordlessly, he pads over to you, his familiar warmth spreading across your shoulders and leading you toward the sofa. He sits you down, and it's frustratingly gentle.

"Are you hungry?" 

"No." The word darts through your teeth quicker than you expect, and it makes you wince. 

He chuckles at that. "Liar."

You let out a small laugh through your nose, breezy and cool. He'd always been able to read you; his senses were always keen when it came to you, and you swore he knew you better than you knew yourself at times. Like some sort of omniscient deity, he could see right through you, cutting through all the weeds and all the bullshit. 

But you couldn't handle that right now.

He's in the kitchen, making a sandwich, you think. You laugh to yourself, it's tight, but the thoughts of him stumbling around in the kitchen make you a little warmer. 

He'd always been a terrible cook, fumbling around everywhere and making a mess of himself. He was like a rancor in a china shop, utter destruction following in his wake. He'd given up on trying to learn, and you'd given up on trying to teach him. 

You tentatively turn towards the open kitchen, and then you're staring. Your eyes trace over his features; like a painter studying his muse, you note every detail, every stroke of the brush you'd need to make. Deep brown eyes are hyper-focused, framed by long brown locks curling down to his shoulders, a red bandana holding it all together. A strong aquiline nose crests over a chiseled face and stubbled jaw; maker, he was beautiful. 

You assumed he was a bit of a player when you first met; a lethal combo of face and body that left a string of holo-frequencies scrawled onto sticky notes and a series of romantic escapades; and maybe you were right. He'd been in and out of bedrooms before, maybe in search of the same thing you were: but you didn't even know what that was yet. 

You got to know him, peeling back all the layers and fluff and stripping him down to the core. You realized just how wrong you had him. He was always a gentleman, a gemstone in the dirt. He never played games or messed around for the hell of it; he was real. You weren't used to that.

Maybe it's why the pool of regret in your stomach swallowed you whole tonight, leaving you with a bruised ankle and a stained dress. 

You slump against plush cushions, heart heavy and mind spasming. You're tired in every sense of the word, the gears in your head creaking to a halt; you've got no juice left. 

Hunter returns from the kitchen, handing you a homemade sandwich and a bag of chips. 

"Thank you," you tell him. You don't think you've ever been more thankful for someone. He smiles at you, and it's warm–something you'd wrap in foil and save for later.

"Of course." He says it like it's obvious. Obvious that he'd be there for you when you needed him; he always was. 

He sits beside you on the sofa stealing shy glances at your side profile, and it hurts him. It hurts knowing that you would never want him in the way that he wanted you. He'd remain on the backburner then, starting the gas and keeping you warm if that's what you wanted. 

You catch him staring at you, and you stare right back. He knew you, but you'd argue you knew him better. His eyes are trying to tell you something, and that knot in your stomach returns. 

He wants to talk about it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You stare into the dark blue of the sky, cool and vast like the deep end of a pool; you want to dive in and drown in it. Stars are all smattered against the surface as if someone had flicked a paint brush against it, and you try to reach up and grab one.

"Not getting lost up there are you?" a voice says to your right, and you nearly jump ten feet in the air.

"Shit-!"

"M'sorry," Hunter laughs, and it instantly dissolves your annoyance. "Was gonna ask if you were ready to go?" His eyes flash down on you, and you're beginning to get lost in hues of brown and gold.

You shake your head, trying to clear it of cobwebs and butterflies before you answer. "Yeah," you breathe. "You made reservations, right?" "

"Yeah, ten o'clock." 

Then you're staring at each other. Something in the air shifts, and you both know it. These little moments you've had with each other were happening more often; like the steady drip of water in a bucket, you'd walked away for a second, and now it's on the brink of overflow. 

The woody scent of his cologne fries your senses, and you try to keep your eyes from shamelessly ravaging his form. 

But Hunter's unabashed, unshameful without remorse. His eyes flit up and down your curves, taking in how your dress hugs you in all the right places.  You playfully slap his arm.

"Quit that!" But you don't mean it, a smile spreading across your face like butter. 

He meets your eyes again, and he doesn't hear you call his name over the thumping of his heart. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, your line cast.

"Hunter?" His name falls from your lips again, and he's just staring; your presence alone is a siren's call, and he's about to end up floating in the depths below. 

He has to do this, he thinks. He's been waiting for the perfect time, an opportunity to give himself over to you; to tell you how you've infiltrated his very core, molding it into your shape. To tell you how often he thinks of you, his head full of sugar and cotton and everything you.

 The tick tick tick of the clock is winding down, and he's falling behind. 

"Hunt-"

"I love you!”

You're frozen. The fire lit in your belly is put out cold, and now you're left shaking. 

Fuck.

The words don't sit in your stomach right, twisting and turning and gnawing at you as they settle to the bottom. They wrap themselves around your neck and squeeze. His confession shouldn't be coming as a surprise to you; the signs were always there, big bold letters and all: I love you.

You hold onto the balcony railing in an attempt to ground yourself. A hand cools the white-hot grip you have on the metal bars.

"Are you okay?" His voice is worried–terrified, even. He fucked up. The timing was all wrong; he should've told you sooner, or later. Maybe he was being selfish, unfairly assuming your heart did rounds in your ears when you were around him. Maybe he-

"I can't do this." Your voice comes out creaky and broken, and Hunter feels his chest cave in. 

He feels awful, the kind that leaves you with cracked ribs and a broken jaw. He took a risk, diving into those dark depths, and ended up being pulled straight under. 

But he was so sure.

He does what does best; he comforts you. Large palms caress your shoulders as they begin to shake, the weight of his words settling in the gaps. 

"I'm so sorry," he's telling you, and it's so soft and sincere it has you heaving. "I'm sorry…I never meant to hurt you." 

That seals it, and you're sobbing even harder: all hot tears and a snotty nose. 

You're no stranger to hurt. You'd tried your hand at relationships before, throwing darts at the board until something stuck. You'd accounted for the grit and grime: the song and dance of trying to love someone else, except you had two left feet. Once the music stopped, you'd turn over, your partner long gone. 

And so you buried the dartboard along with everything else, packing it away into the dirt like cement, and walked away. 

And then he came along.

All charm and smolder, sweeping you off of your feet with ease. You both were like magnets; there was no push and pull, no tugging on a rope or trying to keep him tethered, he was always drawn to you. He understood you, believed in you. He introduced you to his brothers and sister, giving you a family of your own; something to always keep close to your heart. 

And you didn’t want to lose that.

Love just erodes things, in your eyes. 

“Just go.” It comes out defeated, pathetic. A boulder in your throat, you’re barely able to say the words, much less to him. You do what you do best: run away. 

He can’t be hearing you correctly. He lets go of you, much to his chagrin, and steps away. A strong jaw locks–petrified. He’d planted the seeds of you in his heart, and you’d ripped them out by the root. Your words clatter around in his head, but he reigns them in and takes a good look:

This isn’t you. 

“What’s going on?” He says it as gently as he can, like soothing a wounded animal, he doesn’t want to scare you away any more than he already has. 

You can’t look him in the eye. Bile edges on your teeth and your next words come out venomous: “I don’t want to do this with you.”

Yes, I do.

“Just leave me alone-”

Please don’t go.

“I just can’t-”

I will, for you.

Like a child learning to speak, your words trip and tumble over themselves. There’s too much to say, that grime still under your fingernails. How do you articulate two years of pain? You feel him stepping closer to you, and that gnawing urge to flee at the base of your skull chews into your brain. Rough palms curl around your arms, and he turns you around so that you’re facing him. He stares into watery red eyes and feels his heart split. He doesn’t want to be selfish; he’s far from that, but he just needs to know–to understand what all of this meant to you. But he needs to check in on you first; like he always has. 

“Tell me what’s wrong…please?” He’s pleading with you, and you feel sick. You know you’re pushing him away, culling peonies and roses, and leaving nothing but dirt. You meet his eyes: brown, gold, and gray. 

He bristles as if caught off guard, but he recovers just as quickly. His lips part, the question practically hanging out of his mouth.

“Are you afraid?”

You shut down after that. He tries to reel you back in, but you sever the line. He begs you for an answer, an explanation, but you can’t give him one even if you want to. Push and pull, push and pull; you tell him that you want your space, and leave him alone on that balcony. He shatters, and you step on the jagged pieces as you walk away. 

He stares up into the sky, that vast dark blue, stars reflecting in teary hues of brown and grey. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I know you said you wanted to be left alone, but I just-”

“I am.” You interject; like the waves on Kamino, your voice rolls out uneasy and turbulent. He’s giving you a quizzical look, and you purge your head of cotton. “Afraid, I mean.”

He’s staring at you, or rather into you, silently begging you to continue. You swallow.

“I don’t…I don’t know how…” 

You grow hot, anxiety settling uncomfortably in your stomach like a bad meal. You’re meeting his eyes, and it takes everything in you not to break down into tears. Every fiber of your being is telling you to run, to wave a white flag, and scream “I surrender!” But you don’t. Not this time.

“I know that I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be honest, or give you a reason why. I’m sorry that I left you alone, and I’m sorry that you had to save my ass tonight. And I’m so sorry that I made you feel like you didn’t matter to me because you do.” You’re sobbing at this point, and you feel him envelop you, all warmth and compassion, but you keep going, spilling your guts into his shoulder. 

“I’m scared, Hunter. Scared that if I tell you I love you too, you won’t be there when I roll over in the morning.” You break through the dirt and the grime and the weeds, telling him what sat heavy on your chest for the past two weeks. Cutting through the vines and underbrush, you find your flowers, and pick one just for him. 

“I love you, Hunter.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He’s got an arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his orbit. You cradle his cheek, hard and defined, and it fits so perfectly in your palm. You start tracing his features with your thumb, saving every bump, dip, and hollow in your memory–locking it away in your heart. 

Clothes are strewn around the room from the heat of your passion; you told him loved him, and he decided to show you how much he loved you. There was a warmth building up inside of him, and he wanted to share it with you.

You’re naked, but in a way feels good, in the way that gives you hickies and butterflies. He’s streaked by hues of dark blue, and you can’t help but think of the night sky: bold, bright, and beautiful. He’s beautiful. You press soft lips to his forehead, and he unconsciously pulls you closer. 

Your heart swells with gratitude; after all of it, he stuck by you. Had the roles been reversed, you knew that he would’ve never left you alone on that balcony, reaching into the stars by yourself. He pried open your ribs, searching for your heart when you couldn’t do it yourself. He saw you bleeding and carved out pieces of himself to patch you up with. You close your eyes, and the only thing behind them are pictures of both of you.

He’s still there when you roll over in the morning.

[annie-creates]

Out like a light

Pairing: Lady Lesso x werewolf reader

Genre: fluff

Words: 1000

Note: I loved writing this, hope there's enough fluff for you my love. Sorry for making you wait for it but I hope you'll like it.

You felt the upcoming full moon in your aching bones. You didn’t always have a bad reaction to it, sometimes the transformations hurt more, sometimes less. But as you walked around the school for evil teaching class after class, you knew tonight is not gonna be an easy night. Still you pushed through, already being used to this never ending cycle of pain and power. You made it into your own little ritual. You’d leave the castle after dinner, making sure to eat and drink enough to have the strength needed for your transformation. Then you’d wait for the moon to fully come out, running into the woods and draining your energy. After a few hours you’d come home and go to sleep.

You planned to do the same tonight. As you approached the dinning hall with your girlfriend by your side, you gave her a little kiss assuring her you’ll be fine tonight and she doesn’t have to wait for you. You ate and went out to get a head start. As you navigated the woods behind school watching the moon over the tree crowns, the scenery seemed quite peaceful. You’d even enjoy it if it wasn’t for your aching bones and throbbing head signaling your body is more than ready to take the form of your beast.

You fell to your knees, slowly transforming into the large grey wolf that was your other half. It took longer than usual tonight and was extremely painful, so you were left just breathing and resting for a minute to collect yourself. But as you picked yourself up from the ground to your four strong paws, you ran. Your distance and speed were unlimited, and you found yourself enjoying the wind in your face and cracking branches under your weight. Many found being in the wolf form restricting, but to you it was freedom.

You came back to the castle long after midnight, your claws screeching on the stoned floors. You were well aware Leonora hated it when you came back to the room still in your werewolf form leaving dirt everywhere, but considering how today’s transformation went, you didn’t wanna experience it again in the cold and darkness of the forest. You noticed the light in the room still on and as you stepped in, you found your girlfriend in her favorite armchair by the fireplace reading a book. Her questioning eyes met your apologetic ones as you started to transform back into human with your wolf cries turning into pained grunts.

Leonora wrapped your slouched form in a warm blanket lightly caressing your hair. She has seen many of your transformations both ways, the good ones and the bad ones, so she already had a pretty good idea about what hurts you, what kind of treatment you're willing to get and what kind of touches are forbidden. As you had your own little ritual for the full moon nights, she prepared one of her own, taking note of all the things she can do to make you feel better.

“I’ll get the bath ready, alright?” she offered and you answered with a little nod.

After she made sure you’ll be alright for the couple minutes, she went to the bathroom to prepare your favorite lotions and bubble bath. Leonora made sure the water is just the right temperature to relax your aching tense muscles and even lit up a few candles with the scents you liked. She turned the light down a bit, well aware you’re sensitive to sensory perceptions after your wolfing episodes.

“Honey the bath is ready.” She came back to help you into the tub, carefully letting you sit down in it. “How was your night?” it was a simple question; you knew you didn’t have to speak but she gave you the option to. And for a long time you didn’t.

“It was nice. The transforming – not so much.” You answered after some prolonged minutes in which she just gently washed your body. You were slowly coming back to her not only in the body but also in your head.

“I’m sorry baby. But we’ll make it alright.” She promised and caressed your shoulder knowing kisses weren’t welcomed now. “Can I wash your hair?” such big intervention needed permission first and she was willing to wait to get it.

“Yea.” You nodded and tilted your head back to make the job easier for her.

By the time you were done in the bathtub you were finally responsive and back to yourself, feeling every aching bone and pulled muscle. Leonora wrapped you in a fluffy bathrobe doing a basic hair and care routine with you until you were all done and cleaned up ready to go to bed. And that’s where you went, burring yourself in a pile of duvets and comfy blankets. Leonora observed you with nothing but love in her eyes as the only light she left on was the lamp at her bedside table.

“Do you wanna go to sleep?” she offered seeing as it would be more than reasonable at this hour.

“Not yet. Can you read me from your book?” you begged her placing your head on her shoulder as she picked up the book she was reading before you came back.

“It’s not an interesting book.” She warned you.

“I don’t care, I love your voice.” That and you loved the beating of her heart and movement of breath under your ear.

“Okay.” Leonora shrugged and started reading with you in her arms, but your silence didn’t last long.

“Can you do the thing with your hands?” you asked, pleading eyes boring into hers.

“You mean this?” with a genuine smile Leonora started to draw gentle slow circles on your back, lightly scratching you with her fingernails.

“Yes.” You closed your eyes in bliss purring in satisfaction.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep after that. In the arms of your one true love you were out like a light.

[iphig3nia]

Say Yes to Heaven || Sebastian Sallow

“say yes to heaven, say yes to me.”

After the ordeal in the scriptorium, Sebastian takes a moment to reflect on his actions while you sleep in his arms.

(established relationship, 18+ only, video game MC mentioned, aged-up in age and school year)

cw - sebastian does not treat you the best in a certain quest (scriptorium), implied nsfw in the beginning, angst, other cw’s that I forgot about and didn’t mention

a/n || just trying to write something and seeing how it turns out. Haven’t written fanfic in a while so just doing some experimental cooking rn. I’ve also never played this game. I’ve also also never posted on tumblr so format might be weird. Also also also unedited writing :(

—

Sebastian wakes with a start, another nightmare, another restless night. He goes to move out of bed but is reminded of the weight in his arms, your sleeping form is undisturbed it seems by the movement. He sighs and rests against his pillow, Your warm, he thinks to himself as he pulls your naked form closer to him. Ever the gentleman he pulls the blanket up for you and smiles softly as you cuddle yourself deeper into his side.

Always by his side, always defending him, that was how you were. Ever since you met him all those years ago you two have been the two halves of a whole. “Wherever you go I’ll go.” he remembers your promise to him when he asked you to be his the first week of your seventh year. When you said this he was struck with such deep love and wonder for you. You wanted to be by his side for eternity, he remembers he made the promise to you in return.

How he wishes you had never even seen him back in your first-year at Hogwarts, two nervous children meeting each other in a class. Don’t follow me here he glances down at you as you sleep. You had always known about his opinions on the dark arts, on curses both forgivable and unforgivable. And yet you still followed him, never showing your disgust or dislike for his obsession, never showing fear of him. You knew it was for his sister Anne, and not out of evil. You were an angel, always showing him heaven. But the dark arts had a hold on him, willing and unwilling, and he knew he was slowly dragging you down to hell with him.

He closes his eyes and reflects on a more recent memory. You had to become a mediator between him and Ominis as you three and the new student had finally discovered the entrance to the scriptorium. Sebastian made you sit out of the conversation immediately, not entertaining the idea of you even considering casting a forbidden spell. The three students were at an impasse, arguments being made on all sides while you remained out of the conversation on the side.

And when you placed his wand into his hand and looked at him with only pure love present in your eyes, he still wasn’t sure how he didn’t break down then and there. Cast it on me, you know it and I’ll be fine. He remembers the small smile you shot at him and your determination visible. His grip on your sleeping form tightens as he continues to reflect on the memory. He cast the cruciatus curse on you in the end, after much convincing from you and much protesting from him. He couldn’t even see you collapse to the floor with the amount of tears falling from his eyes. Sebastian wanted to cover his ears just as Ominis did, to stop hearing your screams and wails, but he didn’t. This was his punishment, his very own circle of hell.

I’m alright was the first thing you said to him as he rushed to your side. You could see his eyes flicking back and forth between you and whatever lied in the scriptorium. And he could see the inkling of fear in your eyes when you looked at him. The Slytherin Spellbook was his, and you were still by his side even after what he did. Ominis was horrified, and so was the new student. Sebastian carried you out of those dungeons all the way to the undercroft, he never stopped apologizing. He still hasn’t.

You just laughed and comforted him, and he lets you, despite knowing it should be the opposite. He should be comforting you. The memory ends with him holding you as you asked Did you get what you wanted? Sebastian chuckles dryly as he feels a tear slide down his cheek. At the time he said yes but now he knows he didn’t.

Hurting you wasn’t what he wanted. Not for this, not for any of this. Sebastian’s surprised that you haven’t woken up from how hard he’s holding onto you, squeezing like a snake does to prey. He shudders. if you stay with him, if you go wherever he goes…he doesn’t finish that thought. He wipes away the tears, and gazes down at you again, seeing how the blanket sticks to the curve of your body, and the way your skin feels velvet soft to him. How delicate your face appears in the moonlight, how your hair almost glows from the moonbeams. He will always have you on his mind.

Sebastian knows you feel fear whenever he looks at you now, whenever he touches you. He knows it’s his fault and he deserves it. I’ll cure Anne and then no more, I’ll say yes to you he murmurs into your hair sighing after he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. You don’t stir and he’s happy about that.

Tomorrow you’re both going to the cave mentioned in the Slytherin Spellbook. Tomorrow he may find a cure for Anne. And maybe tomorrow is when he’ll let go of the dark arts. But for now he’ll stay here with you resting in his arms, saying yes to heaven, saying yes to you.

[charlenasaxen]

Favorite Quotes - Draco Sinister pt. 2

He seemed to be simply standing very still in the middle of the circle of dragons, who rose above him like breathing statues

"I wanted to see the dragons," said Draco, unfazed. "I wanted to see them one more time."

Draco gave him an angelic smile. ""Did they look like they were going to hurt me?"

"It's happening fast," said Draco. "Isn't it?"

a quiet and oddly forlorn huddle of dark clothing and pale, untidy hair

flashing Charlie an smile that would give him nightmares for several years

put on hand on Dumbledore's shoulder - a curiously gentle gesture

shooing Ron and Ginny before her like ducklings

"You got me socks, Harry. Girls don't want socks! House-elves want socks!

All very well for him to be calm, thought Sirius irrationally. He's not even really here.

"He's my son's father. I mean, my stepson's father.

You, on the other hand, are merely a blot on the landscape, contributing nothing."

Told Godric this morning in confidence that I was thinking of selling my soul

"Yes, if only he'd been a bit more careful while scrawling his dying message in his own blood."

She kept seeing Draco in her mind's eye, standing in the garden, that terrible look of anguish on his face

"I said I'm really enjoying it here on Earth.

What's it like where you are?"

sat Draco Malfoy.

It took a moment for Snape to recognize his favorite student out of his black Hogwarts robes

Draco smiled. "I can do a lot of things," he said, glancing up

the shamelessness of real desperation.

They don't know how to fight it because they've never had to fight it. But you know,"

his face made younger by shock and exhaustion, he remembered suddenly the baby Draco had been when his father had brought him wrapped in blankets to Death Eater meetings

his eyes translucently clear, windows of shock and loss, his face made childlike again with astonished desolation

"You're not going mad. Going mad would be a fairly simple issue to deal with.

to "Malfoys are expressly forbidden from practicing inappropriate Lust Charms, especially in the topiary garden; this means you, Uncle Hector")

he should, to save the honor of his family, leap to his feet and hit Snape in the eye

"First a ferret, now a gerbil," said Draco irritably. "Why does everyone look at me and think 'rodent?'"

He must have lost weight, too, he could see the sharp blades of his collarbones sticking up

"Your vanity is impressive, Mr. Malfoy, but I think your coiffure is the least of your problems.

He suddenly missed Sirius, who would have put a hand on his shoulder, or stroked his hair, or something.

And you haven't given in, despite injuries and exhaustion. You should be proud."

You are fighting a battle, young Mr. Malfoy.

Even if you don't quite know it yet."

"He looked a pale, underfed little thing..."

"He's grown a lot since then," said Ginny in what she hoped was a neutral tone

"What, you're a fan of the leather trousers too, Mum?"

Draco looked affronted. "I knocked!"

"Yeah, on the window!"

she could see the corner of one gray eye now, the smooth plane of his cheek, and the glitter of gold chain against his throat

with innocent eyes. "How do you know that's my belt buckle?"

Draco crawled out after her - irritatingly, he managed to make even wriggling out from under an overstuffed sofa look graceful

"Well, I wish you'd told me that before. If I'd known it was just Ron, I'd have snuck up behind him and whapped him over the head

She had had several fantasies which involved Draco being in her bedroom, but she had never stopped to consider how very out of place Draco in leather trousers actually looked

words like "engaging" and "funny" and even "charming"

"So it was somebody else? Draco, when did you find the time?"

he had a lovely smile, he smiled with his whole face - not just his mouth but his eyes.

"Your ribbon's coming undone," he said, deftly retied it

He gave her a sunny smile. His smile turned devilish. "My mother always said that would make me go blind,"

his eyes close as he lowered his mouth to hers - she felt his hair brush her cheek, and then his cold mouth on her own

Draco stared in dismay as his numb fingers released his blade. Draco's head hit the stone with enough force to blacken his vision

You want to get on with drowning yourself in peace. Well, I won't leave.

"Well, of course you're jealous of me," said Draco. "I dress well, I speak beautifully, I have a great sense of humor, plus I have a knowledge of fine wines and am a devastatingly handsome heir to millions."

"You're not even really here, Transparent Boy."

Maybe he wants to play leapfrog?

Interesting theory, but I'm thinking no.

Dragons? Draco looked slightly wistful. Power over dragons...

"You don't have to give up your soul. What would my Master want with your soul?

"You named your sword?"

"So?"

"You named it Clarence?"

Draco had skill. He moved faster than Harry would have thought it possible

"Then what? Is your arm going to rip itself off and come after me?"

Draco's eyes widen in surprise, the sword tumbling out of his hand as he fell backwards and out of view

It's gone. The spell's off me. Draco...

screaming at the top of her lungs, even though she knew if the spell was off her, it was already too late.

crumpled in on itself like an abandoned toy.

Draco's body didn't move at all. He continued to lie there, his hair streaming blood and water

"He is only a child."

"Well," he amended, edging slightly farther away from the wolf, "if he did, he'd be very sorry afterward."

Harry's father - who hardly even looked like anyone's father, he seemed so young

"And tell Sirius that I-" and then the ground jerked

the Ron-blob looking with alarm at the Ginny-blob

"Ron has now officially gotten more action with Draco than I have."

Ron, still busy exploring all the different shades of red it was possible to turn

Whereupon Ron had told him that if he, Seamus, ever suggested anything like that again, he, Ron, would throw him in the lake.

"One: the state you're in, you couldn't attack me with a piece of spaghetti because it would be too heavy for you."

"She sent you love and kisses, which I will refrain from personally delivering."

and go stomping off into the night with your demon sword and try to feed yourself to a large and angry group of dragons

Draco smiled angelically

Look, she's undressing me with her eyes.

there was still an odd sort of dignity about him

You're like ... history on legs now."

Draco looked mournful. "I'd rather be sex appeal on legs."

"Rule #613 actually states that members of the Malfoy family who have artificial limbs should not attempt sexual intercourse in the moat. Whoops."

He's the one without any clothes on, and I get laughed at. It's not fair.

its shape unmistakable, as it was unmistakable now: The Dark Mark

"She said he's a Viking in the sack."

He still hurts, and that's why he's moving so slowly, but he continued down the stairs as if nothing were wrong, as if his slowness of pace was nothing more than an expression of insolence.

"sure you can turn into a big snake and all. But really quality listening, you know, that's important too."

"nobody is ever going to let me forget them, even though I only wore them once"

Six times already on The Teenage Witches' 'Most Eligible" list?

but not many that were beautiful. Draco found that looking at the tapestry touched him oddly.

She can't go five minutes without trying to get her hands on my -

"And your plan makes about as much sense. But thank you for sharing."

"I need your help," Sirius Black said. Snape shut the door firmly in Sirius´ face.

her hair falling down around them. Listening to her quiet breathing.

She stifled a smile - the rough feeling of the dragonhide against her skin made her think of Draco

"Oh, is that your leg?"

"Oh come, you are always fun," she murmured, sliding into his lap

"Ów do you feel now?" she demanded.

"Like a giftwrapped birthday present."

kissed him lightly on the mouth before moving to plant a row of butterfly kisses along the side of his neck

"remember when you were Draco Malfoy, back before you were Don Juan?"

"Brace yourself," he said, grabbed her, and kissed her hard

prolonged hard tremors that wracked his entire body. He was shaking like that now.

Draco didn´t blame it. People probably didn´t run towards it with great enthusiasm all that often.

But the manticore appeared to have no such problem suspending disbelief.

"And sheś almost as cute as you are..."

From a distance, it was hard to tell which of the two men was Draco

if it had been him in Dracoś place he would never have dealt with the loss of her with half the grace

his gray eyes darkening into slate, mouth curling up at the corners. She couldn´t imagine killing anyone, much less a friend, much less Draco.

A little, hopeless sobbing sound broke the silence. For a horrified moment, Draco thought it had come from him.

"You are not insane. Just very, very irritating."

It shattered, and the fire hissed as the dregs of alcohol splashed the burning logs.

"Drop dead, Malfoy."

"Already have done, mate."

they were only human eyes, the eyes of a boy, and yet they had death in them.

he was totally evil. Did you see his outfit?"

"His outfit? Ron, if you haven´t got anything useful to say -"

like a vine wrapping the trunk of a tree and glittering pale gold was Dracoś Epicyclical charm on its thin gold chain

"Horses also hate lions, and heś part lion. You´d think he´d be a little more tolerant.

Draco, turning his silver hair blond, warming his pale skin to gold.

"Why? If you met your best friend in Hell, would you be pleased to see them?"

painting his face with gold and darker gold. Making him almost hurtfully beautiful to look at.

The lovely lazy half-lidded eyes looked up at her thoughtfully

She felt the muscles of his chest and shoulders pressing into her back.

He laughed, a laughed that snapped in the middle, as brittle as an icicle.

Draco caught her by the arms, pulled her forward, and kissed her hard.

His shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, a fact which didn´t seem to bother him at all

responded to Sirius´ reassuring caresses with faint clucks that could only be interpreted as affectionate.

Chirruping with anxiety, Buckbeak allowed himself to be encouraged

"Didn´t you read the sign?"

Dark Creatures Being Called: Please Use Side Entrance

so many imitators, like Grindelwald, Voldemort and Steve The Third who wasn't as successful at evil as the others

"I´d really rather have some more Mai Tais," said Draco.

"The Snake Lord says you are to have no more beverages,"

said Fleur, and patted her shoulder. "Itś Draco. 'Eś special."

"And by special you mean sexy. Don't you?"

Fleur shrugged. "That is a fact. He probably gets anonymous snog sessions in the mail."

hugged him hard. He could feel how thin the boy had gotten, the bones of his shoulders poking through. Draco returned the embrace, his hands gripping Sirius awkwardly as if no one had ever hugged him before

Draco himself, all gold and silver and black, looking as much as if he belonged there as if he were a general piece of the decoration.

"Did we leave anyone at home, or did everyone come to the letś-get-killed party?"

Draco raised his chin. The light from the torches turned his hair to a rather ironic silvery halo.

"I wish he´d just bloody show up too."

The black opening in the wall swung open, and Draco came in.

There was a short silence.

his expression was so extraordinarily bleak that it nearly stopped her heart

"or do you want to find out what fine Italian footwear tastes like?"

"What?"

"I think he means he´ll kick you in the face," said Hermione helpfully

or I´ll slice off your leg and beat you to death with the boot end," said Draco.

"Oooh, that was much better," said Hermione supportively. "Really good imagery."

because of course James couldn´t see properly at all without his glasses, he never could.

choking on poisonous dust, Sirius put his face down on Jamesśhoulder and cried

When he took them away, there was blood on his fingers.

Harry found a memory of a little boy in Madam Malkinś dress shop, pale and small and somewhat lost

a smile broke out over Dracoś face, one of his rare, infrequent real smiles that were like music or sunrise and reminded Harry why it probably was that Hermione liked him so much

"I´m not your Heir. I´m not anything belonging to you,"

Don´t mock the demons, Potter. Itś just... not very classy

Funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?

Shut up, Potter, or I swear I´ll beat you like a bongo drum.

We have no use for Magids, and do not want you or your friend

Draco wondered for a fleeting moment if the demon was hitting on him

In a small voice, "I figured you´d be hacked off at me."

"It strikes me that you´ve had to make a lot of difficult choices these past few days.

"guard it with your life."

"Certainly not," said Draco, with the ghost of a mocking smile. "I plan to guard it with my really big sword."

She thought of Draco. If anyone was tragically flawed, he was. Oh boy, was he flawed. Well, not physically.

what are you two doing? Look, thereś no need to put him in a headlock -"

Draco was the sort of person who people would follow and obey out of respect for his innate brilliance and ruthless charisma.

It looked very comfortable, and had a matching paisley ottoman.

Ron looked at him in disgust. "Malfoy..."

blew her fiery hair behind her like a scarlet banner

vaguely skittish, in that way that cats sometimes look

feeling his arms around her and the muscles in his chest hard, his hands over hers on the reins.

"According to Feroluce, he had a good time with you two." It was Ben, hands in pockets, looking vaguely amused. "You let him breathe fire."

She could see the stars reflected in his eyes, a lighter silver against the dark silver

Ginny had quite impressively destroyed one by kicking it apart. Unprotesting, he let Ginny seize his hand

the clean even planes of cheek, the white-blond hair, too fine to tangle, recognizing it all as he might recognize a drawing he had done, years ago

He raised his chin and looked at Slytherin.

"Hope," he said.

Draco kneeling on the floor. Even kneeling, there was nothing submissive about him

Destroy me if you have to.

Death would be better than where I am now.

He was Draco Malfoy and he would not be controlled, he would not be owned, and he would not be trapped

that in his last moments, the sorcerer might have had a momentary flash of humanity, and cried out for Rowena.

bright as the Aurora Borealis, and through the washes of brilliant color the stars glittered

"It was quite horrible. And Harry thought you were dead and made a spectacle of himself."

Charlie Weasley had sent him a glass figurine of a dragon

"This is getting ridiculous...presents...fan mail....more pairs of leather trousers...."

The Draco action figure chortled to itself and did a malevolent dance.

the anteroom began to fill up with friends, family, and even Snape

He wore charcoal gray trousers that looked as if they'd been designed especially for him, and a soft white shirt that brought out the blue undercurrents in his eyes.

she still believed firmly that Fleur fancied Draco, from the top of his silvery head down to his famous ducky socks.

well, all right, everyone got all worked up over Draco

they were holding hands. Ginny's face was tipped up to Draco's; Draco was looking straight ahead, but smiling.

Teen Witch Weekly was running some sort of contest the other day -- first prize was a photo of Draco."

"It doesn't 'ave to be that big of a 'ouse," she said reasonably

yanked him against her, pressing their bodies tightly together. "Whereś the famous Draco Malfoy charm I´ve heard so much about?"

Know that I am watching you. And that I am, as always,

Your father,

Lucius Nero Malfoy

For James, with love from Lily, your best friend

Severus Snape (who, Draco recalled from his brief stay with the professor, had a very pleasant baritone) was belting out his favorite songs with a quartet of house-elves for backup.

the photographs of his and Madam Maxime's young son, Rubeus Jr.

"Girls seek me out all the time," Draco felt compelled to point out

another boy with silver hair and eyes like gray morning light. Lucius. Who, like his son, had been touched by destiny; the mark of something special

now only what Draco privately thought of as "the family" remained - Narcissa and Sirius, Ron and Ginny, and Harry and Hermione

"Will Draco ever wear leather trousers again?"

smiled; a genuine smile, a seventeen-year-old boyś smile, with happiness in it, and not a little mischief.

"My happy memory," he said

[shirebarbie]

[Anthony Bridgerton x f!reader] Is That a Challenge (pt. 2)

a/n: here it is, another part! i am so glad you liked the first one and i honestly can’t believe you wanted to read more! hope this will do it justice :) let me know!

summary + setting: everyone is still an emotional mess as important topics and feelings are discussed in Anthony’s room (I know it was kinda forbidden!! let me be). no particular warnings.

FIND PART 1 HERE

[Y/N] squinted, looking over Anthony’s shoulder as she held him close, and she managed to read the numbers engraved onto his father’s grave – today was the anniversary of his death. She wished they had not ventured so far onto the grounds, no matter how much they had been caught up in their quarrel. With each passing year, she was becoming more and more aware of the pressure Anthony was feeling as the head of house, still without a lady, and she wanted to scold herself for not considering today’s date and taking another path on their walk.

Anthony was still wrapped up in her arms, crying without a sound, only a tremor in his shoulders. Outside it was getting darker and colder, but Anthony didn’t yet seem to be feeling better. It was as though the weight of all of his feelings was crashing down on him simultaneously – the good and the bad, the romantic and the tragic.

“Perhaps we should get you to your room, alright?” [Y/N] muttered into his hair as she rubbed his back. “We can talk about everything when you are warm and comfortable.”

In response Anthony sniffed, moving away from the woman holding him. In her eyes he could read the mirrored sadness of his own, wishing to take it away at once and bring her dazzling smile back to her face, but he knew [Y/N] well enough to know she would tell him something among the lines of “It is perfectly fine to feel things.”

He enveloped her smaller hand with his as they started walking towards the house. Both of them assumed the family would be looking for them, but somehow that was unimportant at the moment.

“I want you to stay with me, in my chambers” Anthony admitted quietly, looking down at the ground as they walked. He sniffed again. “I know it is extremely inappropriate, and I really do not wish to drag you into any sort of scandal, but I just need-“

“I think just being a friend of yours for more than twenty years is scandalous enough, how much worse can it get?” [Y/N] joked, hoping it would make him smile; and it did, if only for a fleeting moment.

“You are right, indeed,” Anthony smiled and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “Does that mean you will stay?”

“Of course I am staying, Anthony! I really cannot leave you alone, not today,” the girl said earnestly. “You mean way too much to me.”

Very soon, the two of them managed to sneak into Anthony’s room. They only passed by one other person by accident, and it was Violet Bridgerton. No words were spoken between the three of them – his mother knew him too well, after all. Everything that it took was for her to look at her eldest all disheveled and downhearted to understand the situation. The woman just nodded at the pair and went to her own room for the night.

Anthony all but dived into the heap of blankets and pillows on his bed, making [Y/N] giggle at his antics.

“At least take off your coat and boots,” she scolded him, making him turn his head swiftly to face her.

“You just want to see me with no clothes on, Lady [last name], am I right?” his eyebrow quirked upwards, mood obviously improving.

“Well, yes, but not right now,” she caressed his cheek as he leaned in closer, breathing in her familiar and comforting scent. In spite of all the burdens he was carrying, and how strict he was to himself, [Y/N] was perhaps the only person he could completely relax around. Somehow… it felt like home. “Go on now,” she broke the moment, her own heart thumping against her ribcage, “I will go and make us some tea. And try not to get caught.”

When [Y/N] returned, as quietly as possible, with two cups of steaming tea, Anthony was wearing his night shirt and he was sitting on the bed wrapped up in a duvet all the way up to his nose.

“Is this how a gentleman is to sit in the presence of a lady?” she inquired with a mischievous tone. “I had thought better of you, Viscount Bridgerton.” The girl smiled as she took in the sight of the man she loved, in a very unusual setting. As she handed one cup to Anthony, their fingers brushed.

“In my humble opinion, we are way past being a gentleman and a lady around each other,” Anthony looked at his tea and then back at [Y/N]. “Thank you for this.”

“It was nothing, really. We do not need you to catch a cough just because I got so carried away yelling at you, and then we walked so far,” [Y/N] bowed her head, exhaling shakily. “I am so sorry about all of this,” she admitted in a quiet voice, holding her cup with both hands to warm them up; although her cheeks were burning in such a close proximity to a very handsome man.

“No, [Y/N], please, no apologies are necessary,” Anthony immediately spoke up. “If anyone should be the one doing that, it would be me.” Every time her name spilled over his lips, [Y/N] almost shivered. It sounded so wonderful in his deep voice.

“Anthony… it is completely normal to feel things. Especially here, in the countryside, during this time of the year for you. Allow yourself to feel and process all of that.”

She took his silence as a sign to continue, as he started to sip his tea.

“I know it is incredibly difficult for you to talk about that- that tragedy, and I know what you have gone through, but perhaps it would help you if you allowed yourself to confide in someone, if you allowed yourself to feel sad, angry, lonely, worried about the future, anything.” [Y/N] set aside her cup and sat on the bed in a similar fashion to Anthony.

“I just want the best for you, I just want you to feel better, because burying those emotions under the carpet is not going to be a long-term solution, Anthony,” she sighed heavily, trying not to get caught up in her feelings as she was trying to talk about a serious topic.

“It is just… so difficult to reminisce those days, [Y/N],” the brown-eyed man confessed, having finished his tea. “Sometimes I feel as though my body and mind were in complete shock for weeks, blocking me from remembering any of it, and other days I can recall every single moment of pain and uncertainty.” Anthony looked away towards the large windows of his room, a massive weight sitting on his chest. The duvet he was covering himself with had fallen from his shoulders onto his lap.

“Even if I wanted to, I do not even know how to talk about it, I-I have never even done that with anyone,” he took a ragged breath, “not even my mother, who, better than anyone else, knows how it felt.” For the second time that turbulent day, Anthony felt his breathing getting out of control and he quickly buried his face in his hands, shoulders rising with each intake of air. [Y/N] reacted instantly, wrapping her fingers around his wrists gently and leading him up from the bed towards the bench under the open windows. Anthony gave her a grateful half smile as he attempted to compose himself yet again, still upset that he couldn’t hold it all together.

“I cannot talk about that with anyone, but…” his tired, teary eyes travelled from the night sky through the window to the girl in front of him, “I could try with you. You understand me, [Y/N]. You understand me in ways I have never even thought possible.”

“I love you,” she breathed out.

“You…love me?” Anthony’s eyes widened, his full attention on [Y/N] – as if she hadn’t called him “my love” mere hours ago.

“Anthony, I adore you.”

His lips formed different shapes and letters, but no words came out. However, in his eyes she could read all the joy at her confession.

“At long last, I have left the Viscount Bridgerton speechless,” [Y/N] laughed softly, enjoying every expression on his face. “Now I have truly lived through everything.”

The girl’s laughter was soon joined by Anthony laughing loudly and genuinely, for the first time in God knows how long. How was it possible for his mood to improve in such a short time around this person? He was bewitched, body and soul.

Somewhere during the short laughing fit, their fingers found their way to each other’s and they got intertwined. As the laughter died down, both of them were left slightly panting, [Y/N] even wiped away a happy tear.

“I do not think you have lived through everything yet,” Anthony murmured lowly as he gradually leaned in towards [Y/N]’s face. His voice, his eyes, his scent were so hypnotic, and after twentysomething years of yearning for this man, and this man only, [Y/N] finally threw caution to the wind and connected her lips with Anthony’s.

Their first kiss was slow, but so passionate and charged with the intensity of their feelings for each other. Anthony was cradling [Y/N]’s face between his rough hands as their lips parted, noses brushing against one another. A blissful, breathless moment both of them had been waiting for, pretty much their entire lives. And finally, after a day of emotional rollercoasters, their daydreams finally turned into reality.

“You have not lived through being my wife yet, Lady [Y/N],” Anthony smiled suggestively, still unwilling to move away from her face.

“Is that a challenge?” her lips quirked into a little smirk as she delicately ran her fingers up his arms, making him shiver.

“Maybe so,” Anthony pressed a chaste kiss against [Y/N]’s lips. “And if I know you well enough – which I do like to believe – you have never been the one to shy away from a good challenge.”

[maybege]

Princess - Part 2

Summary: After having travelled with the Mandalorian for weeks, you finally land on Sorgan, your new “sanctuary”. In order to protect the child, Din gets a job in some village in the middle of nowhere. Too shy to voice your feelings for the bounty hunter you are forced to see the growing connection between him and the beautiful widow.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 7.0k | Rating: T

Warnings: fluff

A repost of the second part of wonderful little story! I hope you enjoy it ❤️Definitely let me know what you think, I love hearing from you!

The first thing you perceived was the golden sunlight filtering through the roof of the barn.

Some dust particles were flying through the room, looking like little glow worms. Did this planet even have glow worms? If it did, perhaps you could convince Din to search for some. The little one would surely enjoy seeing them glow in the twilight of the forests. Now that the raiders were gone –

You startled under the blankets. The battle! How could you have forgotten?

You remembered the blaster fire and the looming AT-ST in the dark. You remembered how Cara and Din had managed to take it down. How the raiders had subsequently fled the village, the farmers bursting out in celebrations. You remembered talking to one of them, how elated you had felt that you had survived your first fight, that you had held your own.

But something had happened, you just could not quite remember what it was. Din had held you close, had called you princess like he always did, your brain tried to remind you. All of it was a bit hazy and after the feeling of his arms around you (Had you dreamt that? Had it really happened?) there was only blackness.

There was the sound of children playing in the distance, villagers talking and the splashing from the ponds far away. Your heart got a bit lighter at hearing their carefree chatter – that meant they were safe, that the plan really had worked.

A strange weight on your belly made you look up. Confused you blinked the sleep from your eyes just to be faced with a very excited green child, grinning toothily at you.

“Hello there, little one, where did you come from?” you grinned at him.

His tiny arms stretched around your middle and tears were collecting in the corners of your eyes as you realized that he was hugging you. The child was hugging you and it was the most adorable sight you had ever seen. And if the little one was here, the Mandalorian would not be too far behind.

Curiously you looked around the barn, trying to see if you and the child were alone. You did not have to do more than turn your head to the side to recognize that you were, in fact, not alone. The chair that had previously stood by the table had been pulled to the side of your bed. There was a dark figure slumped in it, not moving. It was Din. He had taken his armour off, except for the helmet of course and you spotted the glinting pieces of metal on the table.

Din still did not move. He was probably sleeping. The way his head was leaning on his shoulder bared one side of his neck, and with his shirt having shifted down during the night, a tiny sliver of tanned skin peeked through and you felt your cheeks warm at the sight. Such baring of skin was hardly scandalous, not here on Sorgan nor in your home culture, but considering that it was Din – the man who only so rarely let himself relax anywhere, who rarely (if ever) took off his gloves to reveal skin – made it feel all the more like a forbidden sight.

And because his skin was such a rare sight you immediately noticed that he had taken his gloves off as well. One hand was casually laying on his thigh, the other was on your blanket as if he had held your hand. Slowly, so as to not startle him, you brushed your fingers over his bare skin. Had he really been sitting here all this time? Did he care about you that much?

“You are awake.”

His voice was gruff and deep from sleep, even the helmet could not hide that. Your hand stilled but did not move away from his skin. You craved his touch too much and this was one of the few opportunities to indulge yourself for however long he would allow. He shifted in the chair, straightening his posture, and cracking his neck but he did not move his hand from under yours.

“What happened?”

“One of the stragglers put you out,” he explained shortly, “you fell into the pond, might have a concussion, but we could not be sure.”

Faintly you remembered the feeling of the cold water on your skin. How things had gotten kind of blurry and dark. But waking up here in the barn, safe and sound, was showing that the plan had worked. Cara and Din had gotten the job done.

“And now?”

His hand turned around, palm facing up, and he tangled his fingers in yours. Your heart skipped a beat and decided that this was way more exciting than any stupid blaster fight. “Now this place is safe and we stay here,” he mumbled and leant forward, nearer to you.

You chuckled and brushed over the fuzzy hair on the child’s head, “Good, I like it.”

The child agreed with an excited trill. Din remained silent, simply staring at you for a while. It was not an uncomfortable feeling, laying there, one of your hands in Din’s the other on the child that had come to be so important to you. It was so soothing and even though you had just woken up, you felt your eyes close again, just dozing off in the warm sun. Din’s thumb had started drawing patterns on your skin and right before you dozed off again you heard him speak.

“I saw you out there, princess,” he whispered to you, “You did good.”

*

The sun was high in the sky, brightening up everything around them and Din was the most carefree he had been for a long time. The battle and its aftermath were now stories of the past and the village had completely recovered from what had happened only a few weeks before. The dead had been buried, the wounded had been healed and now he had allowed himself to relax into the safety that this backwater planet offered.

Standing on the porch next to Cara he marvelled at how this boring planet had revealed itself as the sanctuary that he had hoped for. The woman next to him, a few weeks ago a stranger, now a friend, had put her feet up and kept sipping on her spotchka – the pure picture of relaxation. The sun was slowly setting over the village but the bustle had not yet slowed down. Children were playing everywhere – he was thankful for the helmet hiding his fond gaze towards his child – their laughter echoing around the whole area.

Omera had just left them, he could still see her silhouette over by the ponds. She was walking towards some of the farmers that were in the process of teaching you how to harvest krill. The dark-haired woman joined you, laughing with you as she showed you how to properly get a hold of them. His observations did not seem to go unnoticed as Cara motioned her head towards the woman.

“Want to tell me what’s going on between you and her?”

“Nothing.”

Cara scoffed, “I don’t mean the widow, idiot. I mean her,” she made another motion in the same direction, “your princess.”

The mocking in her voice made him tense, shooting her a dark look. You were nothing to mock about. Not to him, at least. He had tried to mock you, the first time he had ever seen you, with your wide eyes and genuine smile on your lips. But the insult he had attempted only grew into a soft pet name he could not seem to get rid of, not that he wanted to. And that was what you had been all this time to him. Not a literal princess but the feeling of seeing you for the first time, every time.

You had joked with him that pet names meant he had grown soft on the child. And you were right. But he had not been ready to acknowledge that he had grown soft for you as well.

The sun was making your hair shine and you laughed as some krill escaped your basket. Now there was no denying the way his heart thrummed when he saw you. He had grown soft for you.

And in this softness more tender feelings had bloomed up, stretching towards the warmth that you made him feel.

“There is nothing going between me and her.” And there probably never will.

He tried to ignore the little sting in his heart at the thought.

“Sure looked different to me when you would not leave her bedside for one second.”

“She needed me.”

“She was unconscious.”

Din stayed silent. His point still valid. You had needed him. Or perhaps he had needed you? At this point, this was one and the same.

*

The next few days passed in harmony.

Having recovered from your light injury you were happy to get right back into the action. Some of the farmers had taken it upon themselves to teach you how to harvest krill and while you would never become an expert, it was fun to finally do something with your hands. And if you were not helping out with the work, then you were playing with the child, making sure that he did not eat the whole frog population and telling the children some stories.

Apart from the raiders the village really was in the middle of nowhere and therefore, never got any visitors. It was like its own little bubble, your own slice of paradise, and for the first time in weeks, you felt utterly carefree. By the maker, even Din was slowly relaxing, only carrying one blaster with him instead of the assortment of weapons that were usually hidden in his armour somewhere.

Omera talked to him more often which, to be quite honest, bummed you out more than it should. After all, she was friendly to you too, a good woman and extremely intelligent with her heart in the right place but you just could not help yourself.

You could have imagined that it had meant something that Din had waited by your bedside for you to wake up. That it had meant something when he would bring your meals to the barn, making sure that you ate and drank enough when you were still too weak to leave the bed. That it had meant something when, for the first few nights, he would still sit on the chair by your bed, wanting to make sure that you were alright.

But seeing him talk to Omera like that, hands gesturing more than usual, it occurred to you that maybe you were wrong? Maybe this was just hopeful imagination on your part?

“And have you met your prince yet?”

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts and pull your gaze away from the object of your affections and the object of his affections. You were kneeling on the ground, skirt spread around you, and the child and its friends were sitting around you, looking up at you with curious eyes.

Ah yes, you had been telling them a story, one from your home planet that was your favourite as a child. It was about a princess in a tower, being saved by a knight from the monsters around her.

And, as children do, they had recognized that you were called princess too, sometimes and by some people. Well, one person only, really.

“A princess always meets her princes, doesn’t she?”, Sala asked, her head tilted to the side, “And then they love each other and they are happy.”

If only it would be that easy, you wanted to say, if only happiness could be found as simply as the ending to a legend.

“Oh well, a princess doesn’t always meet a prince, you know?” you tried to reign in her enthusiasm but clearly you were failing. With her head still tilted to the side, the other children also looked at you as if you were trying to tell them that the sun only shone at night. And they would be right. Had you not been telling them stories of princesses and princes? And had they not always found their happy end?

“Sometimes she meets,” involuntarily your eyes fell to Din, helping one of the farmers stem a log for a new hut in place, beskar shining in the light, “sometimes she meets a knight.”

You hoped that this would satisfy their curiosity, wanting to change the topic to something safer, something that was less likely to dig into your own hidden feelings. But fate did not want to favour you today, it seemed. Winta turned around, following your gaze and spotting the Mandalorian as well.

“A knight wears armour, right?” she asked despite knowing the answer, an excited look on her face as she turned back to face you, “Does that mean that Mando is your knight, then? He wears a shiny armour!”

“W-What?”

But it was too late already. Having helped the farmer, Din made his way back to … well you were not sure where he was going. What you were sure of, however, was that Winta’s waving hands and loud voice made him stop in his tracks and walk towards you instead. “Mando! Mando! Are you a knight?”

“’m not a knight, I’m a Mandalorian,” he responded and chuckled when he saw the crestfallen faces of the children around him, “Why does that sadden you so, huh?”

“Because if you are not a knight then that means Y/N is still alone!”

Oh, maker. Oh, maker.

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks and as Mando whipped his head around to look at you, you lowered your gaze to the floor. Was Sorgan known for earthquakes? You could really use a crack in the ground to swallow you up whole, right about now.

Din seemed to be intrigued by the children’s dilemma. He went from crouching to kneeling on the sandy ground, pulling a giggling Winta on his knee, “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain that to me.”

“Y/N is a princess and she doesn’t want a prince, she wants a knight,” Winta explained happily and you wished she would just stop talking, “And now we have to find her one so she won’t be alone.”

The children around you nodded like it was a known fact and you wondered when it had been decided that they needed to find a companion for you. Did you seem that lonely? Was it just children’s logic?  What would Din think? That you had convinced a bunch of children into making him kiss you based on some stupid stories?

“Does the princess feel alone?”

Confused, you looked up at him. “I – uh, what?”

His head tilted to the sight, an amused tone to his voice, “Does the princess feel alone?”

Was he … was he teasing you? Oh, Maker, you were not ready for how intense his gaze could be. And here he was. Kneeling on the ground with Winta on one of his knees, a sight of domesticity, but so undoubtedly staring at you, you felt like prey.

“Of course, she feels alone!”, one of the other girls exclaimed, clearly annoyed that the adults of the group did not seem to understand anything, “A princess needs a kiss! And then she can be free and is saved!”

You watched in fascination as the bounty hunter’s shoulders suddenly dropped. “Well a kiss is not something I can give, no matter how much I wanted to,” he muttered and rose to his feet, walking away without saying so much as a goodbye.

Perplexed you looked after him, slowly registering his words. Had – Had he just said that he wanted to kiss you?!

*

The fire was burning hot, sending bright sparks into the night air. Cara was telling some stories and you enjoyed hearing about her past adventures. Instead of following her wild gestures, however, you were looking into the bright flames before you, still distracted by Din’s words from a few days prior.

The next time you had seen him, he had not really acknowledged what he had said, making you doubt yourself and ponder over his words each waking moment. What had he meant by them? Did he want to kiss you but couldn’t? Or did he mean that even if he did want to kiss you (which he didn’t) he couldn’t?

From somewhere, a few people got their instruments, round things with strings attached that you had never once seen anywhere else. The sounds that came from them were lively and happy and otherworldly. People started dancing around in circles, laughter and clapping echoing into the night air. Some of the older kids (not quite adults but not quite children anymore either) started dancing in pairs, a lively dance around the fire and with a big smile you watched the steps and twirls and laughter. It occurred to you that these people had probably never known anything else. This was their life – the happiness, the dancing, the community – and you envied them for it.

Across from you, partially obscured by the high flames, Din was sitting with a few of the other farmers. This was a real sign of how relaxed he felt here, that he was sitting voluntarily with other people than his group. The child was playing somewhere with the other children. He was having a sleepover today at Winta’s which had taken a lot of convincing by Omera because while the Mandalorian might feel safe, Din was still an overprotective dad who had as much separation anxiety as his child. You teased him endlessly about it until he had called you princess in this voice of his and your face was too hot to say anything more.

As Cara continued to tell her stories, now having gathered a small audience, you pondered if you could go over to him. It would only take a few steps and then you could spend a few minutes with him, making light conversation like everyone else around the fire. But did you really have the courage to do that? Friends did such things, right? But you did not want to be his friend and it felt like it would bare your affection to everyone present if you just went over there. It would so … so forward.

As you watched the fire, your gaze met Din’s. Had he noticed you staring? The farmer next to him kept talking and occasionally the bounty hunter would nod, but his visor did not move from your direction. And even though you did not – could not – see his eyes, you were sure that he was looking right at you. Into your very soul. And there was no way you could pull your gaze away from him now. He had captured you, body, mind, and soul, and you had made your peace with the fact that your heart would be forever lost.

So why could you not bring yourself to go over to him?

Your decision, in the end, was made for you. Before you could so much as move a muscle, you saw how Omera approached the bounty hunter from her side of the fire. With a gentle smile and kind eyes, she held her hand out to him. There was no need to hear her talk to know that she was asking him to dance. Your heart hurt at the sight and you tried to focus on Cara’s story to no avail. Even as the visual connection between you and Din was broken, you could not take your eyes off him. So, when you saw how he shook his head, refusing the offer by the woman he so obviously admired, you frowned. Why would he not want to dance with her?

Your brain, no matter how hard you tried, could not come up with a plausible explanation for his refusal, except for one: What if he couldn’t dance?

The thought had not left you when you and Din returned to the barn in the dark. The little feast was still going on but you were tired and even Cara’s attempts at entertaining you could not distract you from the fact how close Omera had sat to him, how her hands had touched his knees. You were even more surprised, then, that when you stood up and said your goodnights to the remaining farmers, Din had followed immediately.

You were just getting ready for bed, unfolding the blanket on your little cot, when the question blurted out without any filter, “Do Mandalorians dance?”

You could hear how Din on his side of the barn, stopped his movements. “What kind of question is that?” his tone was cautious, curious almost, but with a definitive edge to it.

Oh no, now you had offended him. Your cheeks were burning, clearly showing your embarrassment, and you cursed yourself and all the stars you stood under for potentially ruining his good mood. You mumbled, “It’s just that you always seem so closed off. Your culture is based on war I was just wondering if – “

“There is no rule against dancing if that is what you are asking.”

“So, you have danced before?”

No answer.

Gathering the courage that you had previously lacked, you took a deep breath and turned around. You ignored the way your hand trembled as you held it out to him, “Would you like to dance?”

“What?”

“Well, clearly you have no idea how to dance and next time Omera asks you, you should be prepared, right?”

“Why would Omera ask me to dance?”

“Well because she likes you of course.”

“I don’t want to dance with Omera.”

If possible, your embarrassment worsened, making you almost feel sick. The rejection was clear. He did not want to learn how to dance. Who were you think that you could teach him how to dance? Why had the ground below you not yet opened you up and swallowed you whole? The lava at its core would at least match the heat on your cheeks.

“Oh well then, I’ll just – if you would excuse, me-“, your hand dropped to your side as you tried to make your way out the door again. Fresh air would surely help. And even if it did not, it would still put some distance between you and Din, something that you could use right about now.

“I want to dance with you.”

You stopped.

Your heart was beating in your chest so loudly you were sure that you had just misheard. That your longing was so pathetically strong for him that your imagination worked to keep you happy. To even have only for a sliver of a moment the feeling that he might actually have said that. But then you heard him shift and you knew. You knew you hadn’t imagined it. So, you turned around.

Facing him felt worse than facing one of Kuiil’s angry blurrgs. The barn was mostly dark except for the moonlight shining through the roof and the campfire still casting its light through the thin walls. He was standing on the other side, beskar glinting, and was slowly walking towards you. Again, you felt like his prey. Like he was chasing you. His gaze pinned you to where you stood and even if you had wanted to you could not move. It was like the moment at the fire all over again but now you were alone and there was nothing between you.

When he came to stand before you, so close it felt like you could not take a breath without breathing him in, it occurred to you just how tall he was. Tall and broad and strong. He was a warrior, a hunter, and sometimes you forgot how deadly he was to his enemies because he was always so gentle with you and the child. He held out his hand just like you had a few moments ago.

“I want to dance with you, princess,” he repeated softly, “Do you want to dance with me?”

Words refused to form in your mouth. Your throat was suddenly dry and your heart beat so hard you felt it in your throat. You managed to nod your head weakly in response, raising your hand to his and hoping, praying, that he would not notice the slight tremble in your fingers. Slowly you guided his hands to where they needed to be, one on your waist, the other holding your hand. His hands were large and warm, even through the leather of his gloves. When he was in the right position, you settled your hand on top of his shoulder, looking up at him.

The music from outside floated into the barn, accompanied by the faint laughter and talk of the people.

“And now?”

If you were not so nervous you would have laughed at how absurd this situation was. But now, in the dim light being held so close by him, you could not find anything absurd at all.

“Now we just kind of move to the music,” you tried to explain, your voice high from nerves, “Sometimes there are specific steps but I don’t know this one so we'll just have to … move along to the music.”

Din nodded silently in affirmation. To your surprise, it was him that made the first step. He hesitantly started moving from side to side, taking tiny steps. At first, he was a bit stiff, his steps more mechanical than anything else, but soon he started swaying you around the room as if he had never done anything else in his life. He was a good lead, you thought to yourself, as his arms encased you and his movements slowed in the middle of the barn.

You thought he would let you go now, deeming the lesson in which you had taught him basically nothing, finished. But again, he surprised you, his hands did not move from your form as he simply rocked you from side to side on the same spot. There was very little movement and actual steps involved but he held you close and you enjoyed it.

As time passed and you grew surer that he would not suddenly up and leave at any moment, you allowed yourself to rest your cheek on his chest plate, the metal warming under your skin. With your one hand still on his shoulder and his around your waist, he moved your other hand to lay right next to your face, holding it to his chest. You swore you could feel the edge of his helmet resting on your head. The swaying motions slowed until you were just standing there in the middle of the barn in each other’s arms.

You wished it could stay like this forever.

*

When the shot rang you were inside the barn, tidying up the mess the child had made this morning while you and Din still had been sleeping. It had been a calm few days and a calm morning as well. You had treated yourself to sleep in a little, still lounging in bed as the Mandalorian had fed the child. The morning sun had warmed you from the inside out and even Din had seemed to be in a good mood. He had left the hut with the child to talk to Omera, which explained his good mood and your downcast one as the hours progressed.

You had left the barn only briefly to ensure that your help was not needed anywhere else. The krill farming was going as strong as ever and when you had talked to Stoke about the state of things, you had spotted Din and Omera as well. They were a bit to the side, away from the action and from hearing ears. Seeing them so intimately talking, her hands on his armour, you had rushed back into the barn, determined to distract yourself from the ugly feelings inside your heart.

Omera is a good woman, you tried to remind yourself, she has been nothing but kind to you.

You were not entitled to his feelings, to his love. Din was his own man with his own feelings. He loved Omera and you had to accept that no matter how much it hurt. You had barely noticed the tears streaming down your face as you folded the blankets on your cot, too distracted by your inner turmoil to care about the sobs wrecking from your chest.

And that was when the shot rang.

Immediately alarmed – had the shot been meant for Din or the child? Had it only been an accident from one of Din’s weapons? – you ran outside to see if your worries were unfounded.

Unfortunately, they were not.

Omera was running towards the children, eyes wide with fear. Many of the villagers were in uproar as well, fleeing from the sound. Din and Cara were nowhere to see and you only calmed down a little when you spotted the green child with his new friends. The dark-haired woman was ushering them inside. Before she could do anything, you had snatched your child up in your arms. He was unharmed, thank the maker, but clearly upset, knowing that something was going terribly, terribly wrong.

“Where is he?”, your blood was rushing in your ears, panic in your voice.

She looked up at you, obviously recognizing that you were not to be trifled with. “He went looking to where the host came from,” she recalled, “We … we were just talking and then the shot came.”

You nodded, trying to process the new information. You lifted the child up into your arms, its large ears drooping and wide eyes blinking at you worriedly. Din was a grown man, a bounty hunter, he was able to protect himself, the child on the other hand …

Hastily you looked around, trying to see if there were any other bounty hunters in sight. What had Din always told you to do in case something like this happened?

“Seek shelter, get the weapons, do not wait for me, do not turn around, no matter what you hear. Get into the Razor Crest engage ground security protocols and do not open the ship for anyone else but me.”

The Razor Crest was too far ways but you could do the other steps. Without saying another word to Omera you gathered the child closer to your chest and tried to cover him as best as you could. You practically ran into the barn, making sure to stay away from the door and the windows. He always kept a few more blasters at hand, probably for scenarios like this, and you were never more grateful.

With a trembling hand, you snatched one of the blasters from the bed and sat down in one of the corners of the barn, furthest away from any entry points. If a bounty hunter tried to take the child, you would just have to shoot them or at least immobilize them. The thought made you queasy. Sure, you had held your own in the fight against the raiders but this felt somehow different. You had never actively planned to wound someone, to kill someone.

And so, you waited.

It felt like seconds dragged into hours dragged into eternities. The child began fussing, wanting to squirm out of your arms and go outside, probably looking for its father.

You had barely gotten the child to calm down when Din stormed into the barn. He was in a bad mood, you could tell. The way he had almost ripped the curtain from the doorway, how his feet stomped on the ground, his whole body was screaming tension. He did not slow down until he had crossed the whole barn, passing you in the process, and started gathering things on his cot.

Your knees ached from sitting for so long but you stumbled up to him still.

“What was it?”, you wanted to know, “Are you alright?”

Din did not acknowledge you, reassembling a blaster quicker than you had ever seen. His movements were harsh, the metal clanking against each other as he pushed them together with force. “We need to leave,” he gritted out, his back still to you.

The sentence should not have surprised you as it did. Clearly, there had been a threat to the child which meant that you had been discovered. It would be impossible now to lead the peaceful life you had enjoyed these past few weeks. Never mind the fact that you would put the village you only just freed from terror into danger again.

“Okay,” you nodded, trying to sound reassuring as the Mandalorian’s feelings unravelled before you, “Okay, we can do that.”

He did not react. The man continued to pack up the things on the table hastily, his movements rough and aggressive, clearly an outlet for his frustration. When one crate simply would not budge, a frustrated groan escaped him, too loud in the small barn. With a fling of his arm, he threw the piece of metal away from himself, the metal crashing against the wall and falling to the floor with a sad clank. The child exclaimed in fear, ears twitching with worry and you yourself could not help the way your body recoiled from the sound.

The silence was deafening.

The bounty hunter sighed and let himself fall on the chair. His shoulder dropped forward as he rested his forearms on his knees. He looked … defeated. You watched as he looked towards the floor, clearly full of regret. “I am sorry,” his voice was sincere but he did not raise his face again, “I did not mean to scare you. Family should neither be harmed nor scared and I – I failed you.”

Slowly, you approached him.

“Din, look at me.”

He did. His helmet lifted ever so slightly, the black T-Visor now facing you. “We can do that, alright?”, you tried to assure him, the child still in your arms, “We can leave, we will just … we will just make sure everything is packed up tightly and then we can go, okay?”

You were sure by now that the desperation rang clear in your voice – the fear. Sorgan was supposed to be your sanctuary – your home – for just a little while longer. Now it felt as if everything was breaking apart once more. The man in front of you did not say anything as you came to a stop before him.

As if of their own accord, his knees had parted and you stood in between his legs, as close as you could without being inappropriate. He was looking up at you now, his chest was rising and falling rapidly. It was showing just how stressed out he was. How he felt the same panic you did, the same fear. You had never seen him vulnerable like this.

“Din, hey,” you bounced the child on your hip now, trying to prove your point, “He’s okay, he’s unharmed, we’re alright. We are alright.”

The words sunk in for a moment and then he moved. In an affectionate gesture, he wrapped an arm around you, his hand on your back pulling you closer. His helmet sank against your stomach and you wished you could bury your hand in his hair. Instead, you settled the hand not holding the child on his neck, where you knew the shirt was at its softest. Where there might be a chance that he felt the heat of your skin.

“We are alright.”, he echoed, a deep breath leaving his chest and you could see how his shoulders, while still tense, had relaxed a little, “You are alright.”

You remained like this for quite a while, the Mandalorian resting against you, his breathing slowing to a normal pace from how you could see his shoulders move. It reminded you faintly of the night you had danced, how close he had held you then and how close he was holding you now. How things had changed since then. With a grunt he stood up, straightening his shoulders. Gone was the vulnerability from moments before, now there was only determination as he spoke to you.

 “Get to packing, princess,” he declared, “We are leaving as soon as possible.”

*

You were back on the ship in no time. Stoke had driven the three of you, not minding the long drive if it meant doing a favour for the local hero. Cara had chosen to stay behind and you could not blame her. The bounty hunter had only been after you, not her, and Sorgan had been her home long before you had shown up. Besides, this planet could certainly use someone with her skills in case any stray bounty hunter came looking for trouble.

You would still miss her, though.

You had started unpacking everything as soon as you had been back in the cargo hold. Din was still in a bad mood and the atmosphere was tense at best. He had gone up to the cockpit without another word, leaving you and the kid alone in the cold room. It broke your heart to see how affected he had been by the sudden need for departure.

The child had noticed Din’s unhappiness as well and looked at you questioningly. “I don’t know how to help him, little one,” you whispered as you sat him up on one of the crates, “I wish I could.”

You felt how the ship lurched into hyperspace. By now you were pretty used to the feeling but normally he waited until you and the child were securely seated. Apparently, the need to leave surpassed that now.

You heard the familiar footsteps indicating that soon you would hear him jump down from the ladder into the hold. Without saying a word, he joined you in unpacking everything, putting the reactions back into the kitchenette, and fastening the blasters back into his weapon vault.

“I am sorry you had to leave Omera.”

“What?”

“I know you liked her,” you explained evenly, as you put your folded clothes back into the crate that had become your wardrobe on the ship, “Even if you would not admit it.”

You were proud of how unaffected you sounded. As if it did not break your heart into a thousand pieces to think about the fact that he had feelings for the pretty widow while you were pining after him. But he was your friend, too. And friends cared about each other.

“I … Princess, I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Without looking up from your task, you scoffed, “Come on, Din. I am not stupid, I do have eyes in my head, you know.”

Din had now completely stopped. He just stood there and stared at you, fists clenched by his sides. But you did not take notice of that, of course. You were too busy trying to reign in your own feelings and making sure that you did not accidentally confess your undying love for him.

“I don’t like Omera,” he voiced slowly, “Not like that.”

Your heart clenched at his words. Perhaps you had misjudged his actions? Perhaps that jealousy had been unfounded? But could it really be? What if he simply denied his feelings because he was so heartbroken over leaving her? As you started to unpack yet another crate full of rations, you heard hear him muttering something under his breath, too quiet for you to hear clearly. “What was that?”

“I said I like you.”

For a moment there was ringing in your ears. It felt like Cara had punched you straight into the chest, forcing all air out of your body. Had he said that? Did you imagine it? Were you so kriffing desperate already that you hallucinated? You turned around, leaning back against one of the crates, lest your legs decided to give out under you.

Din was standing in front of you, feet firmly planted into the ground. He looked more like he was facing a mud horn for battle than actually talking to you. Your vision blurred on the edges, your heart pounding so loudly you forced yourself to focus on things. Just things. His hands clenched and unclenched by his sides, the worn leather hardly making any noises. Was he nervous? He only did this when he was nervous.

“Cara saw it before I did. Before I was ready to admit to myself how much you meant to me,” he continued gently, “But … I like you, princess, more than is appropriate for a friendship.”

“But … you were so sad we had to leave I thought- “

“I was sad because I enjoyed our life there,” he professed, “I was imagining what it would be like … retiring with you and the little one and just living there. It felt like it got ripped away from me before I could even consider it long enough.”

He had imagined retiring with you?

“We – We can still have a life together, you, me and the little one, you know?” you stuttered, ears hot and heart thundering wildly in your chest, “I would, I would like that very much. Having that – with you.”

Instantly, he was before you. His hands framed your face, gently tilting your head up so you would look at him. “Are you sure?”, he asked in a whisper, so reverently it made your chest hurt, “Are you sure, cyar'ika? Because I cannot let you go after that, I am selfish like that.”

He thought that was selfish?! You chuckled. If only he knew how you had yearned for him, how you would never want to let him go either. But now you could tell him. You could tell him because he felt the same. Your fingers went to the place between his shoulder and his neck, brushing over the fabric of his shirt. “I am sure, Din.”

His chest rumbled at the contact, stepping even closer into your space. His thumbs caressed your cheekbones down to your jaw. “Good, now close your eyes, cyar'ika,” he mumbled, “I want to kiss you.”

You laughed and closed your eyes. His hands disappeared from your face but you patiently sat there, your face still tilted to where you suspected him to be.

When you heard the telling hiss of the helmet you smiled.

This was it.

This was home.

[spxllcxstxr]

Bridge Over Troubled Water • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Requests: can you do a blurb with Remus where the reader is nervous and anxious, maybe has a tough week and he gives her a massage and helps her relax? — anon and Hi! can you write an imagine where the reader is dating Remus and is disappointed in her school grades / results and is overall doubting herself and is disappointed with herself? — @emmaev

Summary: Things are getting really tough. Remus is here for you.

Warnings: mention of food, not eating/skipping a meal, hunger, depression, anxiety, a bit of a panic attack, homework, school, self deprecating thoughts, kinda take how we’re feeling in this pandemic and that’s kinda what this fic is, Snape being an ass for like two sentences, crying

Word Count: 1.7k

A.N: I hope it’s alright that I combined your two requests. But, I decided to make it longer with a lot more comfort. I really hope it’s ok with you guys ❤️ Kinda a vent fic? So that’s why it’s lowkey all over the place and the ending is sorta..abrupt? I hope you like it, though. I wanna say that I’m always here for you guys. This whole thing has been kicking my ass and school has been extremely tough for me, so know that you’re not alone. Know that you’ve got this. I believe wholeheartedly in you. Love you all. ❤️

Title: Simon and Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

****

You trudge up the stone steps to the boys dorms, your bag dragging heavily behind you. With your robes slipping from your shoulders and your tie dangling loosely around your neck, you almost consider letting your bag go. Watching the heavy sack of books tumble recklessly down the spiral staircase seems like a great idea to you. However, you make it to the sixth year dorms before you’re able to loosen your grip.

The oak door was closed but not locked. What use was a lock when the door was charmed to singe off the eyebrows of any unwelcome visitor? Thankfully, the boys granted you complete access to their room in third year, so the door couldn’t harm you.

Turning the brass doorknob and stepping through the threshold, you’re greeted by somewhat organized chaos.

Sirius and Peter’s side of the room was a complete disaster while James and Remus’ side was at least nicer to look at. Sure a few books were scattered on the floor and James’ red and yellow underwear was hanging from his bedpost visible to anyone who walked in, but that’s nothing compared to whatever the other two have going on. You don’t even want to look at it, knowing full well that just one tiny glance would make your already terrible day worse.

The room is empty and completely quiet, the boys, just like every other person in the castle, were down in the Great Hall for dinner. At the thought of dinner just downstairs, your stomach grumbles before quickly churning in agony.

Quickly, you dump your bag next to the door and go through Remus’ drawers, searching for that one specific jumper.

It’s the deep blue cable knit one that always smells like him. The jumper is soft and warm and the perfect piece of clothing to cuddle into when you needed a good cry. And Godric, you needed a good, long, ugly cry.

After finding it and throwing it on, you barely lift up your feet walking to your boyfriend’s bed to get swallowed up by his blankets.

The weight of the day hits you full force the moment your head collides with his pillow, and your lips wobbles, the day replaying in your mind.

Your morning started with a Transfiguration exam that definitely was not on what you studied all night for.

Then, your potion bubbled out of your cauldron and started disintegrating the stone flooring, making Slughorn shoot you very disappointed look that made you want to disappear into the Forbidden Forest forever.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned into a complete disaster as well when Professor Bluebell handed back your essays on inferi, and yours ended up with a spikey red D scrawled angrily on the top. D, which stands for Dreadful, as Snape snidely reminded you from over your shoulder. He flashed you smug little smirk along with the delicate O that adorned his own essay.

And to top it all off, you had to meet up with Flitwick right after classes to go over the vinegar to wine charm that for some reason wouldn’t work for you no matter how hard you tried. And you still weren’t successful.

This was becoming a common occurrence.

You always knew that your N.E.W.T. year was going to be tough, but Merlin, you never expected it to be this awful.

Classes were longer and harder and your professors were relentless and unforgiving with the amount of homework and exams they started handing out.

Sure you had more free periods, but those were filled with research and essays and studying, you had no free time at all—it was all a lie.

You couldn’t escape it. Sleep was just more time to be plagued by anxiety to the point you barely even slept at all. Most of the time you stared blankly up at the ceiling thinking about all the assignments you could be doing instead.

It’s this torturous and vicious cycle that you just can’t get out of.

And your motivation was quickly disappearing.

It was getting tougher and tougher each time to even do your homework. Lifting up your quill and taking out a stack of parchment was just difficult. It took too much energy out of you.

Smothering your face in Remus’ pillow, you groan out your frustration, balling your fists around the frayed sleeves of the jumper.

You’re so wrapped up in your despair and panic that you don’t hear the door creak open and four sets of footfalls and laughter bounce around the room.

“Damn, what’s up with you?” Sirius chuckles. You hear him flop onto his own bed.

You bury your nose in the fabric of the jumper, inhaling the sweet and comforting scent of chocolate and old parchment that always accompanies Remus Lupin.

“Don’t be a git, Pads.” Remus scoffs, making his way towards you.

He crouches down by your head, placing a delicate thumb on your cheekbone.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” His tone turns soft, drenched with concern.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose and dripping down to the white sheets.

“Alright, darling, hold on.” Remus whispers, placing a dainty kiss on your forehead.

He straightens up, knees creaking the way no sixteen year old’s should.

“Alright, lads, clear out.” Remus declares to his friends.

“You can’t kick me out of my room, Moony. No way.” You hear James whine.

“Yes, I can, Prongs, c’mon. Go play chess with Peter or something.”

“But he always beats me.”

“C’mon, Prongsie, we can scam the first years by making them place bets on you winning.” Sirius suggests. His boots click against the floorboards, trailing towards the door.

Peter’s light footsteps follow after them.

“Fine.” James huffs dramatically. “But I’m not sleeping on the couch again, so no funny business.”

The door slams shut and once again you’re met with silence, though you do hear Remus changing out of his uniform and into more comfortable attire.

The bed dips underneath Remus’ weight and his hand gently starts to stroke through your hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my love.” Remus mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

You try to swallow down the lump in the back of your throat.

“Just a very shitty day, Rem.” You manage to croak out, the words choppy and wavering.

Tears begin to flow freely, warm salty streaks making their way down your face in rapid succession.

“Oh darling.” Remus coos, practically pulling you into his arms and between his legs. You bury your face into his neck, tears dampening his scarred flesh. “It’s alright, let it out.” He continues to run your hair between his fingers. “Let it all out...”

“I-I’m just so stupid!” You sob, choking on spit. “Everything’s just getting too much and I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

He squeezes you closer to his chest, opting to stay silent so you can vent everything off of your chest. His cheek is pressed to the top of your head and you’re vaguely aware that you’re being rocked gently back and forth.

“It’s so hard!” You continue to wail, lungs constricting rapidly. It’s a struggle to keep breathing and your words barely come out fully, instead broken fragments are the only things spewing out.

“I’m a failure!” You spit out, face wet with tears.

“You’re not a failure, my love. I promise.” Remus tried to soothe, his voice adopting a small but noticeable waver. His hand rubs your back.

“I am! I’m a disappointment!” You sniff, taking in deep gulps of air.

“Shh...” Remus pulls you back a bit so he can see your entire face.

You already know you look disgusting. Eyes blotchy and red, tears streaming down your face. Snotty, spitty, wobbling, and watery features taking up his entire vision.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, hm? Let me help.” He consoles you softly.

You gaze into his warm honey brown eyes, glistening with his own tears.

You sniff, rubbing the sleeves of Remus’ stolen jumper across your face in an attempt to dry yourself off.

“Everything’s slipping, Rem. My grades, my mental health, everything. And I’m so lost I don’t know what to do anymore.” You confess. “What am I supposed to do?” You bring your hands up to you hair, tugging at your scalp enough for you to feel sparks of pain.

Quickly, his own trembling hands take yours. He stops you from tugging, instead bringing them to rest on his jumper clad chest.

You swallow harshly.

“I’m going to help you, (Y/n)—“

“You can’t help me, Remus! I’m beyond help—“

“No, you’re not.” He retorts lightly. “I’ll help you with homework and help you ask for a few extensions...we can get you back on track.”

“Remus...” Your voice trembles at his kindness.

“I’m sorry.” He rasps out, a tear or two slipping from his waterline. “I’m so so sorry that I didn’t see you suffering like this. Merlin, (Y/n).”

Shaking his head at himself, he brings his forehead down to your own.

“I’ll be better. I’ll be better, I swear.” Remus keeps repeating in a pained mutter.

“It’s not your fault, Rem. I got good at acting like everything was fine.” Your voice cracks.

“Still! I should’ve realized!” He mutters angrily.

“I love you, Remus. I love you so much, please don’t beat yourself up over this.” You plead.

He bites his lip, deciding to drop it, instead focusing on you.

“Why don’t we try to relax, hm? Just take a nice night off?” Remus suggests, pulling away to brush strands of hair away from your sticky face.

“But what about homework—?”

“Tomorrow, love. I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”

You shlyly nod, and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You’re beautiful, darling.” Remus whispers.

“I just bawled my eyes out, Rem, I’m sure I look like a swamp hag.” You snort.

He brings his hands to your shoulders, rubbing deep circles into your back muscles. The knots start to dissipate.

“Never seen a swamp hag as angelic as you.” Remus flirts. But his voice is so sincere and honest, you have no choice but to somewhat believe him.

“Thank you, Remus.” You smile. “It means so much to me.”

“Anything for the love of my life.” He confesses, trailing his pink lips down your neck. “Now let me hold you close.”

He lays down, resting his head on his pillow, your head resting on his chest.

Things are going to get better.

Probably not tomorrow.

Probably not this week.

But things will.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20

[theladyismyshepard]

Here’s my first crack at some Donna x pre-transitioned ftm!reader content to get the ball rolling with her reaction to you coming out, and I do warn you, this is me answering asks before having a chance to buy and play the game myself (I like hard copies sue me) so some things might not be right or ooc, like the fact I have Angie refer to Donna as her “mom” *shrug*

TW: mentioning of slight dysphoria

Make Me Feel Alive

The fog that acted as a fine layer that obscured the vision of the ground perfectly reflected the gloomy ache that lodged itself painfully in your chest, nearly making it impossible to breathe past. Your forehead lightly rested against the cool windowpane as you stared unseeingly out into the misty valley below. You weren’t feeling very comfortable today and you couldn’t stand to look at your reflection. It had your smile feeling forced and it didn’t feel right on your face at all.

You couldn’t slip, not in front of Donna, not when you feared what she would think of you. When you first had been sent to Donna as punishment straight from the hand of Mother Miranda, she had been cold and distant, as if your presence wasn’t appreciated nor was it a nuisance; she just... didn’t really acknowledge you at all as you tended to House Beneviento. That left one other... source of company for you to get acquainted with in her noticeable absence.

You shuddered at the thought of Angie finding out that you didn’t feel “normal”, and the onslaught that you would endure for it. The doll seemed to always be attached to your leg, and whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, you weren’t certain of yet. The little thing seemed obsessed with you, and Donna was quick to notice that fact. Now, you had her full attention.

“Angie does not grow attached to guests... and yet...”

It was the first words she had uttered to you since she had first introduced herself, and it caught you off guard as you were so absorbed in dusting the paintings decorating the walls. You whirled around on your heel, heart pounding rapidly against your rib cage, feeling too light for comfort. You were met with no expression as she wore her veil, and you never wanted to read her more.

“She whispers... things to me.” You admitted uncertainly, unsure if your definitions of “getting attached” were the same. “Frightening things sometimes,”

“You are still here, are you not?” countered Donna. “I have not warned her any of harm befalling you.”

You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat that formed at her words. Now you were well aware that you were free game running around the House, and away from Angie. Should you feel lucky? Because you’re starting to feel nothing at all.

“I don’t know why she... likes me.” You forced out, unsure of what answer Donna was seeking from you.

“Interesting...” was all she said before she turned away from you and left you standing there with a duster in hand.

You blinked away the memory of the first time you and Donna had a semi-conversation, and you considered that to be the turning point of your relationship. Especially when Angie was muttering the next day, something about “Why am I forbidden now?” and it had your lips curved into an unexpected smile that you couldn’t permanently shake for the rest of the day.

As the days bled into nights and as the weeks flew to months, there was a bond between the two of you that threatened to expand and force itself to be the only thing your mind was capable of comprehending. There was something melancholic about the air that always surrounded Donna and over time, it began pulling at your heartstrings that this soft heart had been so hurt in some way that she couldn’t even face the world without her veil, and you were determined to figure out the mystery of everything about her.

And that made it so easy to put aside your own insecurities and discomforts with your body for the sake of putting Donna’s needs above your own. You cooked for her, you cleaned for her, you did the house and yard maintenance for her. You made sure she had nothing else to do but to focus on what she loved — puppeteering. At first she had offered you no indication that she noticed or appreciated your effort in taking care of her, but then it started with a gentle caress of her finger over yours when you had handed her a cup one day. You couldn’t stop staring at her hands that day, and thinking of what they were capable of.

Even Angie’s bizarrely threatening comments had cooled to mere teasing and dark humor. Though she was still attached to your leg quite literally. The doll took every opportunity she could to curl herself around your leg and thigh, enjoying the ride as you continued on while occasionally glancing down at her giggling form. Even so, being as civil and calm as you and Angie were now, you still weren’t comfortable with the doll and her loose mouth knowing your secret and spreading it to the woman you-

Served. And that was all you would allow yourself even in your head. It was too painful to dream of scenarios where Donna felt the same fluttering in her stomach as you did, just to return to reality with the constriction of your chest; It was too painful to subconsciously trick yourself with hope. So, you decided to numb yourself from feeling anything completely as you tended to your duties around Donna’s home. You didn’t even bother with mindless chitchat with the veiled woman anymore when you presented her with her sustenance, and not once did you catch the furrow of her brow when you started taking your leave without a word, not when she concealed everything from you and everyone else.

You blinked past your blurry vision and saw the fog thickening until it blanketed the entire valley, even up the stumps of the trees. The small part of your forehead that was still resting against the windowpane had gone numb from the prolonged exposure to the chill of the glass. A sigh couldn’t help but find its way out of your throat, and it fogged up your view of the outside. You were contemplating reaching a finger out to draw a frowning face in the condensation, but a solid form collided with your leg and plopped itself down onto your right foot. You didn’t even have to look down.

“Hello, Angie,” you greeted monotonously, not in the mood to act overly friendly with the doll.

“What’s your problem?” demanded Angie, but you knew she wouldn’t have even asked if she wasn’t interested in what had you sour.

“Nothing,” you whispered, offering her a smile that barely lifted one corner of your mouth.

“Even my mom has noticed,” spoke Angie matter-of-factly, and you knew she felt you stiffen. “You don’t like that, huh?”

“What’re you talking about?” You cursed the way your voice trembled, but the doll relished in it.

“You’ve been distant, she says, and she wants to know why.” drawled Angie, gazing up at you as her hold on your leg tightened.

You nearly found yourself arguing with this doll, but you bit back any remarks of denial that danced so tantalizingly on the tip of your tongue, ready to take the plummet. You sighed heavily yet again as unbidden tears pricked the corners of your eyes at the mentioning of your behavior, and what was causing it by extension. You couldn’t tell her even if you wanted to, not past the weight that suddenly found itself stuck inside of your chest. Angie vehemently shook at your leg.

“Well?”

“Angie,” came a sharp voice, effectively cutting off your lack of response. “That will be all.”

Your neck almost could’ve broke with how quick your head snapped over to face Donna. She still had her veil on, but there was tension in her shoulders as she scolded the doll. Angie did the best she could about looking chastised as she scurried away from you and down the hall, not even seeking the comfort of her mother at the moment. So that left the two of you to stand there in uncomfortable silence until someone decided to break it, and you decided that that was not going to be you.

You couldn’t tell if you felt relieved or if you felt disappointed when Donna paused for a moment before turning on her heel and walked gracefully away from you and down the hall. You released a shaky breath and wasn’t sure why your eyes felt as wet as they did when you watched her go without a word, without any care. You squeezed them tightly shut, hoping against odds that it would dispel the tears lining them, and when you opened them again, you saw Donna standing still and looking back over her shoulder at you.

“Would you please follow me?” asked Donna, and you were surprised by how much of a genuine, nervous question it was rather than a demand that she could rightfully give.

“I- sure, I mean yes!” You stammered over yourself, unsure and nearly afraid, but your shaky legs took you forward one step at a time, and this time, Donna waited for you to fall into step with her.

“You seem tense,” Donna mused without looking over at you, and for once, you wished you had your own veil to shield yourself with once you decided that prolonging the inevitable would do no good.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, eyes turning downcast, and even you weren’t sure as to why you were apologizing.

“Are you alright, honey?”

The name at the end coupled with the concern you could hear in her voice had you looking right back up at her, and this time you could tell she was observing every part of your face, almost as if she were checking for the lie coming. It was too much to explain to her, too much at one time and you found it would be a lot easier to shut down and give generic, albeit hollow responses until she left you alone with yourself.

But what if? What if Donna made it easy enough to let your tongue slip and unleash it all as if it were nothing at all? You couldn’t see her reaction, and that alone, the slightest of hesitations, had your lungs seizing as you gazed right at her veil-covered face. What if she laughed at you? What if she called you unnatural? What if she banished you altogether? And that was how the cons had outweighed the pros, but now you’ve hesitated too long and Donna turned her body to fully face you.

“Will you make it just a little bit further? My bedroom is close by.” she said softly, her hand reaching out to you, and you took it, and for a moment it didn’t feel right in yours, but you shook the thought away, nearly grateful just to hold her hand.

You nodded your head, and the walk passed you by in a blur, one foot guiding you at a time as your thoughts battled for dominance and left you in the whirlwind. Donna pushed her bedroom door open and one thought that did take purchase of your mind was “Oh my god, she has me in her bedroom” and it offered you an anchor to latch onto instead of focusing on the care and affection you’ve grown to feel for Donna or the way your body felt too curved, too exposed, too wrong. Donna perched herself in the chair that she had in her room, and held her hand out to signal for you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t talk much anymore.” Donna stated simply, and you made a noncommittal noise in the back of your throat. “Hm.”

“I’m-”

“Sorry,” interrupted Donna, and you could hear something coloring her tone. “Why? What do you keep apologizing for?”

“Nothing,” you shrug before looking down at your lap. “And a lot of things,”

“You are so very helpful, dear.” Donna quipped, and for some reason, it gave you the flash of irritation that you needed to get the ball rolling.

“Well maybe I don’t trust you!” You snapped, aware that you shouldn’t be saying it, but unable to prevent it from coming out, and you really regretted it when you heard a small intake of breath.

“Have I proven myself disloyal to you in some way?” spat Donna, her voice suddenly cold, and it had the fight leaving your body, and leaving you exhausted.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” You whimpered, hanging your head as it was too much energy to hold it up. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“I...”

The words died in Donna’s throat as she sat perfectly still in her seat. Her defensive attitude was instantly replaced with worry and confusion, and it had her momentarily thrown. She watched your body tremble with every labored breath you exhaled and after the third inhale, she was on her feet and sitting by your side on the edge of the bed. She took your hand and ran her thumb across your knuckles reassuringly.

“I could never hate you, and I would never make fun of you about what’s bothering you so terribly.” insisted Donna, taking your hand into both of hers now to softly caress it with her fingertips.

“I...” You whispered breathlessly, your wide eyes glued to your joined hands and it made it easier to not look at her. “I love you,”

The hands surrounding yours squeezed tightly before bringing it up, up, up, and slipping your hand behind her veil to bring it to her smiling lips.

“I know,” she whispered back, and you felt the heat of her breath against your hand. “I’ve known for some time, and I love you, too.”

Your mouth fell open in shock and you stared into the blackness that was her veil, your eyes darting back and forth where you thought her eyes to be. She was still smiling as she pressed kisses to your hand.

“W-Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” You pressed, unsure of what emotion you were going to land on. “If you knew?”

“There is something else you’re still holding back... why is that?” countered Donna, and she didn’t give you time to even think of a response before she was answering herself. “Because you aren’t ready, and I wasn’t... until now.”

“What changed?” You couldn’t help but ask, and you sorta felt selfish that you didn’t hesitate to press for answers while Donna simply let you come to terms with your own struggle at your own time.

“Me,” said Donna, her sudden chuckle sounded more of a dry sob she couldn’t hold back. “I changed over time and it was because of you... You used to be so lively around here that it made me come back to life as well... and then you suddenly disappeared.”

“I...” You trailed off, and how could you defend yourself when you knew her words to be true... you were here, but it was also very noticeable that you weren’t.

“Are you ever going to come back to me?” questioned Donna, your joined hands falling into her lap.

You watched in awe as it seemed like everything was almost falling into place right before your eyes in the form of Donna playing with your fingers with her own. She managed to seem so small and unsure, and yet she held this power and grace to her that you both were aware of. She dipped her head, but you could somehow feel the heat of her gaze probing. The fluttering of everything inside of you had it all too easy to bring your free hand underneath her veil to cup her cheek and pull her full attention towards you.

“A lot of the times I don’t feel like a woman.” You said and by the time you realized you were saying it, your voice only had time to tremble on the last word. “I... sometimes I don’t feel comfortable in my own body... Sometimes I look at myself and wish things were different.”

“What can I do for you?” Donna questioned intensely, one of her hands releasing yours in favor of covering the one on her cheek. “I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable with yourself.”

You sat there staring dumbly at her, your mouth working but no words were coming forth. You weren’t exactly prepared for any sort of response much less a positive one, and here she was, asking what she could do to help you, and it had you laughing incredulously, your brow furrowing as you looked at nothing. But then you were sobbing and you couldn’t stop it no matter how hard you tried to reign it back in. Arms were surrounding you in less than a second.

“Is this what you were so scared of, honey?” whispered Donna, tucking you into the crook of her neck, and you nodded wildly.

“I-I thought you wouldn’t l-love me if I told you.” You hiccuped, feeling frayed and ragged in her embrace.

“Impossible,” said Donna, her tone leaving no room for argument. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to feel right in your own skin.”

“What now?” You croaked, most of the weight gone from your shoulders, but there was still some residual tension lingering, and she must have felt it because she was soon running her soft hand over your shoulder.

“Well...” started Donna, pulling away from you but grabbing both your hands to keep you close enough. “I love you, and you love me, and if you ever chose to commit to becoming a man, then I’m quite certain that Mother Miranda has connections that I will indeed look into about helping you change into who you are meant to be.”

Was it really that easy? Did you really just come out as smoothly as you did? And she just... accepted it? You were so scatterbrained that it left you spent and unable to do more than fall back into her ready embrace. You figured she must have read your string of thoughts because soon she cupped the back of your neck, and pulled back.

Just enough so she could use her unoccupied hand to lift her veil just enough to expose her lips. You didn’t have time to marvel before she surged forward, also using her hand to pull you in closer to connect your lips in a searing kiss that had you gasping into it. Your eyes slammed shut without your consent, but the softness of her mouth had you lacking the care of anything else. She gently scratched at the base of your neck and then she was pulling back, leaving you dazed.

“Thank you for sharing your secret with me.” said Donna, and the raw honesty had you blinking away more tears.

“Thank you for deserving it,” you whispered back, almost hunching from how bone-tired and light you felt from finally letting go of the weight that was holding you down for so long.

After a moment of comfortable silence passed of the two of you just basking in the afterglow of requited confession, Donna smirked, prompting a grin of your own. Before you could even ask, she already beat you to it.

“I think Angie will be ecstatic about having something of a father figure around here.”

You paled when you heard maniac giggling outside the door.

[babydaddyleorio]

Can I get a Angst oneshot of cherry number 5 and Gender Neutral reader please if you want or can.

(I hope I did this request thing right)

Have a good day or night stay safe and happy pride month!

Happy pride!

Cherry had done everything in his power to cover his tracks so that nothing could ever be traced back to him.

He had made sure to shield his body in an all black cloak with a mask across his face as he snuck off the palace's grounds, he had given himself an alias whenever he chose to skate since It was forbidden for royals to do so, and he even met with his lover in the most discreet places that no one should have been able to find. He had done everything imaginable to ensure that nothing could ever tarnish his name, and yet somehow, all of his efforts were now seemingly futile.

“Are you ready to talk?”

Cherry scowled deeply as his eyes fell on the bothersome man in front of him, trying his best to maintain his composure and awareness. The man in question was no other than his right hand and he had so rudely barged into his office, demanding Cherry’s attention to discuss an important matter that just couldn’t seem to wait. Ainosuke Shindo, Adam for short, stood beside the chair opposite of Cherry with a grin that can only be defined as devious adorning his lips.

“There have been rumors circulating amongst the servants, rumors of the Lord escaping the palace late in the night.” Adam tauntingly paced around the office with his hands clasped behind his back and Cherry’s eyes vehemently trailed him as his accusing words began to register. “They say you’ve been sneaking off to duel commoners in skating tournaments, knowing full well that the practice is strictly forbidden.”

Adam paused his movements and sharply turned himself to face Cherry. He slowly lowered his body down to grip the edge of the desk dividing him and Cherry, a grimace now present on his face.

“Does any of this ring a bell to you, your Highness?” Adam asked forcefully and Cherry simply reached over to grab his fine china, calmly taking a sip of his Chamomile tea before answering the arrogant man towering him.

“No, I am afraid that does not ring a bell.” Cherry answered while blankly staring and Adam laughed dryly under his breath at his obvious lie.

“Is that so?” Adam retorted before taking out a manila folder and dumping the contents of it all across the desk’s surface. Cherry remained unscathed as the laminated documents fell before him and he slowly glanced over them, squinting his eyes once he realized they were all pictures.

Pictures of him to be exact.

“These photos here tell a different story, Lord Cherry.”

“What is it that you exactly wish to gain by doing this?” Cherry asked, his voice becoming slightly annoyed as he pushed the pictures of him participating in the local tournaments away from his view.

“End your acquaintance with Y/n.” Adam declared while leaning closer to his Lord, but Cherry only narrowed his eyes in response.

‘Ah, so that’s what this is all about.’ Cherry thought to himself as he took note of Adam’s request.

Adam had never liked that you and Cherry were having romantic relations with each other and he so desperately wished to end the entanglement as soon as the secret relationship sprouted. Adam viewed you as mere filth and didn’t believe you had a worthy enough status to ever be seen with the likes of Cherry. Adam gritted his teeth just thinking about you being together, partially because he knew Cherry could have better and partially because that spot you had in Cherry’s heart should have been his.

“You must have lost your head, Adam.” Cherry glowered menacingly and leaned himself closer as well, so close that there were just mere inches between the two. “Mind your place.”

“End it, Cherry.” Adam demanded coldly, losing all the formalness he had prior to this moment.

“And if I don't?” Cherry challenged with a raised eyebrow, frowning deeply as he continued to stare down Adam.

“Then I will have no other choice than to leak these photos and ruin your entire career.” Adam spat with his fingers gripping the wood so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Cherry closed his eyes at the unfavorable situation he had found himself in. He could have continued to protest against the incriminating evidence, but Adam did unfortunately have the upper hand right now. Cherry sighed loudly before slowly glancing back up to the fickle man awaiting his response.

“Very well.”

“Really?” Adam blurted incredulously, shocked that Cherry actually agreed to his terms.

“Yes, I will end my relations with them.” Cherry affirmed, although the weight of those words left a bitter taste lingering along his tongue.

“Excellent.” Adam exclaimed before turning on his heel to leave triumphantly but not before gathering the photos up and taking them with him.

Once Adam was completely gone, Cherry loudly banged his fist against the table, causing the warm tea to spill across his desk. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he considered the stakes at hand and wanted nothing more to strangle Adam for even pulling a stunt like this. Cherry was torn between protecting his current position of power or choosing the love of his life and it seemed like the former was gradually becoming his only option.

“Carla, send me a carriage.” Cherry hastily commanded into the air before pushing out of his seat and storming out the door.

X

“Y/n, open up. It’s me.”

Cherry waited a few seconds before hearing your feet shuffle against the floor and multiple locks turn in unison.

When you finally opened the door he saw that you were all dressed and there was a suitcase standing behind you. Cherry raised an eyebrow in question and wondered where you could be going at such a late hour.

“Going somewhere?” He asked curiously while taking note of how stiff you looked standing in the door frame.

“Yes.” You responded curtly, voice more distant than usual.

“Where to?” Cherry tried to pry further, now even more confused that his suspicions were correct.

“Away.”

Cherry’s lips frowned at how dismissive you were being and he tried to step closer into your home, but you blocked him before he could get the chance.

“Cherry, I think It is time we end this.” You blurted out loud and Cherry froze in his spot once he heard those words leave your mouth.

Wasn’t that his line? He thought to himself as he saw the indifferent expression blanketing your face. Cherry wasn’t going to go through with Adam’s demands and he had actually come here to make It clear that you would always come first, although now that you’ve said you wanted to depart, he wasn’t sure If his plan still was in motion.

“For what reason?” Cherry asked insultingly and you avoided eye contact with him before continuing.

“It is for the best.” You whispered and Cherry got in your face, latching his fingers onto your chin so you could look into his furious eyes.

“Like hell It is.” He swore, glowering down at you. “What has caused this sudden change?”

“Dammit, Cherry! We just aren’t meant to be together!” You shouted and to Cherry’s ears It sounded as If you were trying to convince yourself of that statement as well. Once you realized your emotions were beginning to get the best of you, you took a deep breath and tried to ignore the tight feeling growing inside of your throat.

“I got sent a letter.”

“A letter?” Cherry questioned in confusion, wondering why that mattered now.

“Yes, and It stated that I have 24 hours to evacuate the premises before drastic measures would be put in place.” You confessed and Cherry raised his eyebrows in surprise before anger gradually consumed his being.

“On what grounds? Where is it, let me see!” Cherry demanded and tried to move past you but you blocked him from entering again.

“They had pictures in there as well.” You hissed while furrowing your eyebrows deeply. “Pictures of us together.”

Cherry felt himself begin to see red, seething at what was happening to you and him.

“So what? That’s just it now?” He voiced bitterly and you started to laugh at his questions, not realizing that tears had begun sliding down your cheeks.

“Yes, this is the last straw! I am sick of going through this, Cherry.” You exclaimed with a frown before turning your head so your eyes were no longer on him. “It’s best that you leave now.”

“I refuse to leave until we sort all of this out.” Cherry protested, moving his hands to try to wipe your cheeks but you swatted them away just before he could touch you. Cherry angrily clenched his fists and flared his nostrils before moving himself into your face.

“Didn’t we get in this relationship knowing that they wouldn’t approve of us? So why now, why are you so scared now?” Cherry was fuming as he shouted those words at you and you flinched once you heard how strangled his voice was becoming.

“It is different now, since when did you not care about your career as being our Lord? If word got out we were meeting, It would stain your image and legacy as well as have you seen as a dishonor. Are you really willing to risk throwing it all away for a mere relationship?” You challenged although the tears that were still falling steadily from your eyes betrayed how you were trying to come across.

You swallowed thickly before moving your eyes to Cherry’s face, staring at him solemnly through your blurry vision.

“Is our love really worth that much to you because it doesn't mean shit to me anymore.” You yelled and Cherry abruptly moved back at your outburst, too speechless to say anything in return.

You shut your eyes and squeezed them tightly before stepping back into your home.

“Goodbye.” You mumbled and slammed the door in Cherry’s face. Cherry stood on your porch with a far away look grazing his face and stayed motionless in his spot with his gaze never leaving your door. Cherry didn’t remember how long he stood there in the cold night, but he did remember the sudden feeling of his lips quivering as he felt his heart being broken into a million pieces.

When Cherry finally stormed back into the castle, he furiously and desperately looked for Adam. And when he finally saw him, he rushed to the man and roughly grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer so that they were face to face.

“What did you do, dammit!” Cherry yelled with tears building up in his eyes, his hands shaking drastically since your distraught face stayed ingrained in his mind. Cherry was a mess without you, he already missed your comforting voice and the beautiful smile that you wore whenever he held you close to him. Cherry’s cheeks suddenly rose as his mouth slowly parted and tears poured from his eyes at the thought of never getting the chance to have that again.

Adam looked down at Cherry since he still had him in grasp, and he couldn’t help the smirk that fell on his face as he realized that he had won. Adam listened closely as the grandfather clock on the wall rang loudly to signal a new day, a day where you were no longer in the picture.

“I just made sure you stayed true to your word, my Lord.”

[hoffmannwrites]

You Better You Bet

Previous - PART TEN - Next - Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’m garbage. You know what it is. Also, editing this in the bathtub by candlelight, drinking wine and listening to a twilight playlist. Very on brand for me I think.

Pairing: Riverdale, FP Jones, and 19-Year-Old Reader

Description: A bet with Jughead leads to so much more than winning.

Warning: Language, Adult themes, Age Gap, Forbidden love bullshit, brief mention of female masturbation, bi!FP and top!FP if you squint, fluff in a sarcastic way, getting caught red handed

Song Inspiration:  illicit affairs - Taylor Swift

The word felt weird on your tongue. Girlfriend.  It felt even weirder calling him your boyfriend. You didn’t use them in front of other people, not yet. It all still felt so delicate. You had admitted to Betty and Veronica that you were seeing FP, but didn’t divulge that it was exclusive or serious yet. You were also quite aware that Jughead was not as oblivious as he pretended to be, but neither of you dared bring it up to the other. 

As days slipped into weeks, you got more comfortable with the words. Eventually, you had slipped into a routine with FP. You’d see each other a few times a week, either at his trailer or the Wyrm or occasionally the overlook. Usually, you’d sleepover and either drive yourself home or to school in the morning. It was comfortable, almost domestic, how easily you wrapped your lives around each other.  He bought more food (you preferred that he let you cook, but he at least owned spices and herbs now); the trailer stayed cleaner and brighter with fewer empty beer cans littered around. You were brighter, too. You had always felt like a person out of their time- too old to still be in high school by most standards, the oldest kid in your family with no siblings or cousins to keep you company, forced to grow up too fast, but too young to be considered an adult in all the ways that mattered. Nothing that was supposed to feel right ever did. So it made sense that the first thing to ever feel right was a man that was supposed to be wrong. It worked, though. Somehow, it worked.

Easily your favorite part of your newfound relationship was sleeping next to FP. Falling asleep to the sound of his even heartbeat and low breath had become soothing in a way you would have never imagined. Waking up to his messy hair and gruff voice might have been even better. On the nights you couldn’t spend with him, you tossed and turned violently for hours-unable to find the comfort of sleep without being wrapped up in your man’s arms. Unfortunately, this was one of those nights. No amount of pillow flips, weighted blankets, or calming audios would put you to bed like FP could. You picked up your phone to text him- but the bright white numbers reading “3:30” made you decide against it; it was much too late to bother him. Instead, you decided to tire yourself out in the only way you knew how: with your hand slipped into your sweatpants lazily working yourself up until maybe-just maybe an orgasm would tire you out enough to put you out. But apparently, sleep wasn’t the only thing FP has ruined for you. Why were you sitting here touching yourself in vain when you could be getting railed by your boyfriend? Unfair. Ridiculous. You would just have to spend the rest of the night tossing until maybe sleep took you. 

The next day was frustrating, to say the least. Working on barely two and a half hours of sleep, school was painful to get through. The only thing keeping you from going home to sleep was knowing that you were headed to FP’s trailer as soon as the end-of-day bell rang. You spent most of your day tapping your foot impatiently and chewing on your pen cap with heavy-lidded eyes, praying that somehow the clock would speed up. Somehow, you slugged through your day and eventually heaved your limp body into your car. By the time you had realized you had forgotten to turn on your radio, you were already halfway to FP’s trailer. 

Once you finally arrived, you wasted no time on the usual once-over of yourself in your rearview mirror. You walked right into the trailer without even bothering to knock, took one glance at FP sitting on his sofa, and collapsed directly on top of him, head snugly in his lap. He chuckled as he ran his fingers through your hair and brushed it out of your face, which turned to look at him. “Long day, huh, baby girl?”

“You have ruined my life, Forsythe,” you informed him in a low monotone. 

“Naw, don’t say that, baby. What happened?” He was actually concerned which made you feel a slight pang of guilt. Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that. Oops.

You sat up and took off your coat which you hadn’t originally bothered to peel off. “I can’t sleep…” you muttered softly. 

“How exactly is that my fault?”

“You’re too comfy!”,  you whined at him dramatically. “How am I supposed to get any sleep in a cold empty bed, when I’m used to passing out on your stupid warm, soft chest?”

He looked at you with stars in his eyes as a smile grew on his face. “You’re mad at me because I’m too good of a cuddler?”

“Precisely!”

“Jesus fucking…” he muttered as he got up from the couch and took your hands, leading you up with him. “C’mere…”

You followed him gratefully into the bedroom and sat down on the corner of the bed, slowly inching up towards the pillows to crawl under the covers. 

“You’re gonna sleep in jeans?” he asked for with a quark of his brow. 

“Sorry I didn't put PJs in my backpack today,” you replied snarkily, ready to just sleep. 

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” he threw a large flannel over at you. “Get comfy, kiddo.” 

You started to strip down to just your panties, “I hate when you call me that.” 

He shot you a questioning glace, prodding you to explain. “It makes this weirder than it already is.” 

“Wasn’t aware that it was weird.” It was his turn to strip down now, just to his teeshirt and boxers. 

You lifted up the covers and set underneath them trying to get comfortable at once. “I mean it’s not weird but I just don’t need to be reminded that you’re over twice my age, thank you very much.”

He followed you into bed and pulled you close, hiking your leg up as far as it could go. “Shush. You’re just mad that I was backstage with Motley Crue while you weren’t even born.” He kissed your forehead with a smile. “Now sleep, little girl.” 

Sleep started to take over your body but you’d be damned if you didn’t get the last word in. “I still can’t believe Tommy Lee bottomed for you.”

As your eyes closed and you faded into sweet oblivion, you could hear FP faintly whisper “I never should have told you that.” 

—————————————————————-

You woke up with a startle to what sounded like the trailer door opening. FP was still next to you, also starting to wake and looking just as confused. 

Your first thought was that this was going to end bloody. Some ghost from FP’s past or some new Riverdale Psycho was gonna come to turn your cozy little life upside down in mere seconds. What ended up being reality was quite possibly way worse. 

“Dad?” Jughead’s voice rang loud and clear through the trailer. You and FP looked at each other with wide eyes, panicked, to say the least. 

“Go!” you whispered to him, hitting him out of bed frantically as you began to look for your pants at least. 

He scrambled out of bed and the small bedroom slamming the door shut behind him as he came into view of his son. It was close too; one more corner and Jughead would have found you. 

It wasn’t so much that you didn’t want Jughead to know. it was just easier. You had no idea how you would begin to explain how this bet had blossomed into so much more. When the time finally came, you definitely wanted it to be on your own terms and not caught half-naked in bed on a Tuesday afternoon. 

You could barely hear the conversation between the father and son, too focused on your own thoughts of what you would say if Jughead for some reason needed to come into the bedroom. From what you gathered, Jug needed help fixing up a motorcycle he picked up and wanted to see if his dad was up for the task. All you could think about was how that could have been a phone call, a text even. But no, he just had to come all the way here to ask this 5-second question. FP was quick to agree to help him and set up a time later this week for him to come over with the bike to work on it. He made up some excuse about having a long day and being exhausted, ushering Jughead out the door just as quickly as he burst in. once he was sure Jug was gone and not coming back, he walked back into the bedroom and ran his hands through his hair. God, he looked sexy when he was stressed. 

“Well that was close,” you said simply 

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 23: Wings of a Flutterby

Summary: “Jamie had always considered the presence of a flutterby to be a blessing.”

Read on AO3

Read chp 23 on tumblr below the cut

Previous, master list, next

A/n: After seeing a very cute thread on twitter about how Jamie canonically calls butterflies "flutterbys," I had to make the addition to this chapter because it was too soft to pass up. So, inspired by @Sassenach7471, thanks for reminding me of this sweetness!

Chapter 23: Wings of a Flutterby

***

Claire lay on her stomach in front of Jamie in the middle of the living room floor, her arms folded underneath her head as she lazed. Jamie, for his part, sat cross-legged behind her, completely and utterly enamored. 

The dress she was wearing had a large open back, covered only by tiny straps, which left her beautiful, translucent wings exposed. Jamie’s fingers were delicately tracing the edge of them where they lay flat on her back. They were so incredibly soft, so delicate, that Jamie could only bring himself to give them the barest hint of a touch. But he was entranced. 

He’s always been told never to touch the wings of a flutterby for fear of damaging them, so when Claire had given him permission to touch hers (after he'd gaped open-mouthed at her in that dress), it felt so deliciously forbidden. Even though he’d never exactly touched a flutterby’s wings before, he’d felt them flap against his skin as the flutterby hovered around him, the flitting sensation of softness before it was gone, out of reach. Claire’s wings felt much the same as he’d imagine a flutterby’s would if he could touch them in this way, only Claire kept hers still and on display for him to pay due reverence. 

Jamie had always seen the presence of a flutterby as a blessing— if they were near him, it was because of their choice, not his. He remembered as a kid being out in his mother’s garden, sitting as still as possible in hopes that one might land on him in passing. 

Claire was much the same. An ethereal creature that somehow had landed on his life, had chosen him… him… over anything else, giving herself fully and utterly without hesitation. 

Growing more bold, he trailed a finger down across one of the silvery veins that stretched across her wing. Claire gave a little shudder, making Jamie pause, but it was followed immediately by a contented sigh. 

“How does it feel?” Jamie asked as he continued to wander the surface of her wing with gentle exploratory touches. 

“Hmmn… nice,” Claire hummed. 

Jamie spared a glance up at her face to find her eyes were closed. Her cheek was squished just slightly where it lay against her arm, and Jamie nearly melted at the sight.  

“Like when I touch yer skin?” he probed. In demonstration, he brought his fingers to the skin of her back in between her wings, smoothing them down along the bumps of her spine. 

She shivered again, shifting her head, and then answered dreamily, “no. It’s different. I can’t really explain, it’s like… my wings are more… sensitive.” 

Jamie hummed in acknowledgement and returned his touch to her wings. They fluttered a little at the unexpected sensation, flitting against his hands, and that only served to make him more eager. As they settled again, Jamie began drawing absent circles over the surface with his fingertips. 

They weren’t paper thin, but still so heartbreakingly delicate. Their golden hue seemed to shimmer in the light from the window, although it was soft and barely noticeable if he hadn’t been studying them so closely. He couldn't get enough. 

It was unreal. 

His body was nearly trembling with excitement over this strange experience. As relaxed as Claire was, Jamie was pulsing with energy, thrilled by this newfound intimacy. He could touch her forever and never tire of it— wings or no. The thought that this strange creature was his awed him to no end... 

Absorbed as he was, he barely even noticed Claire was moving until she had sat up, her wings fluttering freely as she did. Jamie drew back, not wanting to hurt her as they moved, and he sat watching like a besotted fool as she turned to him. 

Her eyes seemed glazed with serenity, her whole posture carefree and relaxed. His touch had melted her into a puddle of soft warmth, and Jamie came to the realization that she was about to be all over him the second before she did just that.

She moved slowly but nonetheless insistently, and Jamie found himself absolutely covered in faerie a second later. She had straddled him and pushed him down on the floor as Jamie obediently relented. He let her drape herself over him as he leaned back, staring up at her in enrapturement. The second he was laying on the ground, Claire spread out at length upon him, she purred, “It’s your turn.” 

A dhia. 

“What?” He sputtered, his brain having halted all proper function at the feeling of her body spread on top of him. 

Lord give him strength. 

“It’s your turn,” she repeated, “On your front.” 

Jamie’s brain snapped back into his head as he realized what she was asking. Getting himself in check through some monumental force of will, Jamie managed to smile up at the hooded eyes above him. 

“Lass, I canna turn over when ye’re on top of me.” 

Claire was too tranquil to laugh or flush. She just hummed in acknowledgement, brushed her nose against Jamie’s once (making his wame twist), and then removed herself from his body. 

Jamie mourned the loss instantly, but he turned over onto his stomach as ordered, mirroring the position Claire had just been in, lounging on his front. 

As soon as he was settled, soft wee hands slid under his tee shirt, pushing it up. Then, lips met skin. 

He had to resist the impulse to jerk away as she kissed the scars, her lips warm and tender. No one had ever touched him fondly there— before her— and never in his life had he imagined someone kissing him the ugly evidence of his pain. 

Her lips touched the scarred flesh again, this time further up, and Jamie shivered. Gooseflesh broke out along his arms as her hand smoothed down the length of his back. She took her time, her touch gentle and intentional. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she said reverently. 

Every insecurity in Jamie screamed at him to deny it, to say something to the contrary, or even just joke about getting her eyesight checked. But the next brush of lips made the words die in his throat. He simply remained silent as tears gathered in his eyes. 

Her fingers traced the criss-cross of his scars for a long time, easing the tension from his muscles with her soft touch until Jamie was just as relaxed as his faerie. 

He wasn’t expecting it when a solid weight rested on his back, and he realized she’d laid her head down on him. 

“I love you,” she said softly, her fingers still tracing over his shoulder blade, “all of you.” 

Jamie wished that he were sitting up— or anywhere that he wasn’t trapped like this— so he could embrace her as he answered, “that means more than ye know, mo nighean donn.” 

Her hand smoothed back and forth over his side in response. He could feel her breathing— slow and deep— against him. 

“Dinna fall asleep on me there, lass,” he joked quietly. 

“I’m not.” She answered so softly that he wasn’t entirely convinced of the validity of the statement. “I just want you to know that I love every part of you.” 

The warmth in Jamie’s chest could have melted even the most ancient ice. Claire’s loving his scars couldn’t take away his insecurities— couldn’t magically heal the years of hating his body— but she gave him hope that one day he might be able to love himself with even a fraction of the intensity with which she loved him. 

Jamie pushed up on his elbows (Claire letting out a displeased noise at his disruption), and he hastily sat up to take her into his arms as he’d been wishing to do ever since she’d begun her ministrations. 

She went willingly as he pulled her into his chest, and they stayed pressed together as two parts of the same whole, serenity wrapped around them with the comfort of a blanket. 

*** 

Later that day, Jamie finally had the chance to introduce Claire to the wonders of literature. After finding out weeks ago that the fair folk didn’t have a written language, Jamie had been positively itching to introduce Claire to some of his favorite books. The choice had been brutal—Jamie being the book lover that he was— but finally, he had decided on Lord of the Rings. 

As soon as the decision had been made, he’d begun to prepare Claire, telling her everything he could think of about reading and books and human literature so she’d be ready before hearing the story. 

When the time finally came— and Claire had draped herself over Jamie’s lap, holding onto his neck and laying her head on his shoulder so she could stare the book as he read— Jamie found it rather hard to concentrate on the words. He had to block out her touches and reactions in order to give her the proper experience of hearing him read. After not too long, Jamie began to get the hang of it— it’d been a long while since he’d read aloud to anyone, but the story came alive as he grew more comfortable. 

Claire had hummed with excitement the whole time, stifling her wonderment into Jamie’s shoulder as he read with enthusiasm. 

“You’re a wonderful story teller, Jamie,” she praised during a break at the end of a chapter. 

“Thank ye, lass, but it isna so hard when the story is just here in front of me.” 

“You’re getting all that story from there?” she asked, pointing dubiously at the page. 

“Aye, much easier than remembering the whole thing,” he answered. 

She’d pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You humans are so sweet,” she said fondly, “we just treasure everything worth telling inside of us.” 

“Oh lass,” Jamie said, “I canna wait until ye hear more. There’s so much out there, more than we could ever remember ourselves. I’ll make a bookworm out of ye yet.” 

Getting back to business, Jamie squeezed Claire closer with his free arm and resumed reading. Her attention soon shifted from the page (which was meaningless to her) and instead rested on Jamie’s face as he read. He found himself distracted by her regard and her wandering hands that were doing their best to draw him away from his reading. 

“A nighean,” he said at one point, looking away from the book to level her with a mock stern look. Her hand froze over his nose where she’d been tracing up and down the bridge of it, “I canna concentrate on reading.” 

“Oh,” she said, abashed, withdrawing her hands, “sorry.” 

“Are ye enjoying the story so far, a leannan?” he asked. He had to prepare himself for the possibility that he was boring her, although hearing her say out loud that she didn’t like Lord of the Rings would probably break his heart. 

“I love it!” she exclaimed quickly, straightening herself against him, “it’s amazing. I’m sorry, please keep going.” 

“Okay,” he chuckled, “maybe jes’ let me focus on the reading for a bit, aye?” 

*

After they’d finished their section of reading— Jamie closing the book as if parting from an old friend— Claire pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you for telling me your story,” she said softly. 

He couldn’t help but laugh at hearing it referred to as “his,” but he didn’t have it in his heart to correct her outright. 

“We’ll read more of Tolkien’s story another time. Would ye like that?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing and her smile melting his heart all over again. How could anyone ever look at her and not love her?— he wondered. He would spend all day, every day pouring out his soul just to see a glimpse of that smile. 

“Would ye tell me a story of the fair folk?” Jamie asked suddenly, longing to experience a part of her world as she was experiencing his. 

She raised up from where her head had just rested back on his shoulder. 

“I would love to tell you a story, Jamie,” she said, but something about the tone of her voice seemed… off. Was she sad? Had bringing up her home been a mistake? “But later. I don’t know, I… I don’t really feel much like storytelling at the moment.”

“That’s alright, a leannan,” Jamie reassured, “I just want ye to ken how much I care about yer stories too.” 

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her head underneath his jaw, squeezing tightly. 

“I love you, Jamie,” she said. 

“I love you more, mo nighean donn.”

***

Next

[echoalyssa]

Bridges | JJ Maybank

It’s early in the morning when you feel his warm palm on your cheek. He had been crashing at your tiny cabin, nestled in the woods but with access to the water. You knew about his father, he’d wanted to be strong bu staying there, but he couldn’t deny the peace and safety that he felt at your place. Plus you had forbidden him from staying there unless you were with him and JJ didn’t want you to ever have to be there and experience any of what he had.

It was nice, him always being there. The constant warmth and comfort that he brought you. You were always laughing with him, always happy. He made your life make sense, as silly as that sounded.

His lips then brush yours and you smile and shift your body to reach a hand blindly out infront of you. It collides with a firm chest and you inch your fingers upwards until they brush his shoulders and you pull him onto you. He’s heavier than you had really thought, and the plan ends up with you saying a muffled ‘oof!’ And trying to roll him up and off of you. Except he doesn’t want to. He prefers cuddling with you, so until you really can’t take his weight anymore he just sits lies atop you.

“Why on earth would you wake me up so early? It’s not even light outside!”

“I have a surprsie for you!” Excitement floods his voice.

“Then bring it here” You mumble, into body.

“I can’t! I have to bring you to it!”

And with that he hops up out of bed and practically drags you out of the bed. You go limp and just let him pull you. He lifts your arms and yanks one of his hoodies on over the bra and sleep shorts that you had been wearing. It was decently chilly outside. He grabs a blanket and ushers you outside to his car.

It’s quiet, when he starts the engine and begins the drive. Considering you knew almost the entire island, you ran through every possible location that he could be bringing you but your mind was blank. Eventually you drift off to sleep, inhaling the soft scent off JJ that engulfs his car.

~~~

You wake when you hear the engine shut off. Groggily you lift your head and peer out the window. And just kind of gasp, it’s beautiful outside. The colors of the sky melding together like a watercolor painting, but so much brighter. JJ opens his car door and then jumps across the hood of the car to open your car door. You step out, leaving the blanket behind.

He had brought you to a bridge, overlooking a river. You’d never been here before but you were higher up than you had ever been on this island. The sun is beginning to rise. Your boyfriend intertwines his fingers with yours and pulls you towards the edge of the bridge. He steps up to the ledge first and then smiles at you and helps you up.

You’re stunned, the grogginess from your sleep had evaporated completely and now you can’t stop looking from your boyfriend to the sky out in front of you. The colors bounce off the water and make the image appear twice for you. It’s stunningly beautiful.

He raises your joined hands then and the two of you bask in the warmth that the sun casts as it slowly rises. There’s no need to fill the silence between you. Up on this bridge, infront of one of the most beautiful views, and with JJ Maybank... it’s perfect.

[eclipsenoir]

Sandbox. — It was curial for them to anger at each other and throw around words and emotions like children with toys in a sandbox. (with seramiamor)

Truth be told, Taeil disliked sharing arguments with Sera. At least not in a tone and context that morphed words into bullets and knives, and felt as though they were physically lodged in his chest with bare hands. Slowly tearing his fragile heart asunder. Though no discussion which came before had felt as hopeless as this.

The apartment had been warmer that evening. Quietude stirring in the air, yet bright in light of year's end. Her couch was warm on his back too, though her fingers a frigid contrast on his nape; a blanket for comfort pinched beneath tiny bites of frost. Yet Taeil sought and found no consolation in the heat hidden between his vertebrae, and even less in the weight pinning down his thighs. Instead an anxious gaze scanned the face of the woman framed in his lap. Fraught silence sitting on his lips while he searched for any sign at all of her being but a vivid fragment of dreamstate.

But much to his dismay, Sera stared right back. And blinked, talked—argued. Ebbed and flowed above him like stirred ocean shores with her tumultuous emotions. She balanced fear on his heartstrings with a tangible grin and asked him why it were there–why he wasn't holding her gaze for long, why he wouldn't touch her even with full consent. Suddenly self-aware, Taeil knew he couldn't lie to her. He could never lie to her even if he tried.

"You're just acting really weird, Sera. You're too pliant than what I'm used to. Too honest, and needy." He'd said, carefully. Both fists laid on each side of his thighs, clenching and relaxing–unwilling to embrace her as custom. Claim her as suggested.

"It's freaking me out. We were never like this."

Like this; a hushed cluster of limbs and entangled breaths, her knees nimble and blunt on hipbones that reached up for her own, as restlessness guided their grip across vast expanses of each other in all directions possible. Just like this, with their racing hearts tethered so tightly under the caging of their chests it was almost painful. Yet it felt safe all the same; safe enough to test their teeth in forbidden fruit uninterrupted–that their secret would remain only a murmur shared between them when the universe peered elsewhere.

But when Sera leveled her gestures and sought meaning in his gaze yet again, it became clear to Taeil that their murmurs hadn't once been shared at parallel since the very beginning of their agreement. Something was amiss still, and it was going to cost them.

"Are you telling me you don't want it?" Sera regarded Taeil quietly, facial expression softening until resting flat as she observed him with her nails on his pulse.

"It's not just about what you want now." Taeil attempted to argue, "It's about what we already had..."

Sera only considered this, then retracted herself entirely. Vacating the lap she'd probably hoped would keep her company into the new year. "It's funny how I feel like the rejected one now." She admitted. "Oh, well."

And then she was gone.

When Taeil first met Sera, he was plagued by an existential crisis and equally haunted by the mere existence of a fresh diploma in his hands. He remembers it a hot summer noon, specifically so because his balls had never seen as much sweat in twenty-something years as they did that day–and he was a college athlete. Standing amongst close to a thousand virgins in a tight campus hall felt as though he were in a rainforest from the waist down. Sweltering, and zoic. But his determination to win was stronger than his desire to strip down to his bones on spot.

Every year the school oversaw an annual robotics competition for any who were willing to participate, and rearranged a random hall into a bloodbath for nerds, gamers and freaks alike. Though despite their micro differences, what brought them all together was their religious belief in aliens and robots, like Christians saw God and angels. And money. In any case, an event Taeil himself couldn't bear missing.

The ink had mysteriously ran out midway through him signing up, and he had to wait through ten whole minutes before someone in the back line had remembered the spare pen buried at the bottom of their backpack. An omen of his misfortune, but he'd ignored it for the beckoning charm of the prize money he planned to buy premium Pokemon cards with. And the pretty girl he were up against, Sun Sera, or something like that.

He'd shouted dibs on her amongst his friends before they'd begun, and was damning his idiocy with every ounce of effort he could possibly muster by the end of the night. The second his robot went down with no chance of return, she'd ruined him; stripped him bare of his remaining pride rather than the clothes on his back. And knew it. Had thrown him a knowing feline smirk before walking off for her prize.

Little did she know that at that same moment, she'd unknowingly sealed some long years of childish rivalry to her name. If only both of them knew beforehand how it all would escalate–Taeil often wondered if he still would've chosen Sera then.

The fight me's and the fuck off's and leave me alone's had quickly become the backbone and essence of their friendship, something peculiar only they could understand. She wanted nothing to do with him while he wanted everything to do with her, but somehow it was mutual. He would've willingly nestled himself into the most unforgiving cracks of bleeding Hell's ends to find her, no matter how far she hid. If only to get the rematch he believed he deserved, Taeil sought her out to the point of blatant obsession. She let him do it.

But life often does only what it wills and before Taeil could notice, his passion gave chase for personal attachment to Sera. Then, like seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours, his heart had betrayed him–coaxed attachment into a degree of infatuation he could only keep hidden for the sake of preserving their unusual connection. Which was much more important to him than anything else, as it was all he knew. All he ever wanted.

To him they were already a layered puzzle that needn't get more complicated. Every time they met, it felt like walking into an empty room clad in an infinite maze, of which all ends yielded a door to a new, alien emotion to explore in a pair. But a pair had never equalled to anything beyond friendship for Taeil, even if for every time Sera smiled because of him, his heart had longed for more. The pain of self refusal was more bearable than that of accompanied solace and misunderstanding. He wanted only for her to accept him as much as possible, and that would've been enough.

Better necessary than love itself; an intimate understanding of the melancholy they individually experienced the same.

The flattery of a kiss could never compare nor plug the void for long. Why was that such a complicated intention for her to fathom?

The way down from her apartment was a steep and uncomfortable contrast against his long legs. Winter rising from chilled concrete to the ceiling gripping him like a second skin and stifling his lungs as a plastic bag would around the neck. Every exhale was tangible on his lips how a raging bull snorts steam through its nostrils.

But as if it were organically coded without room for error in his blood cells still, Taeil, cradled no longer by warmth or the need to be compliant, followed Sera's descent to the bottom of the stairwell. Almost tripping on the way down, and bellowing words that held no other purpose than for spite alone.

He'd confessed his honest confusion to Sera, pouring explanations and anxiety through gritted teeth only for Sera to believe none of it. Though he didn't doubt once that she knew it the truth. She owed him this much.

She was diligent and quick on her feet, petite shoulders squeezed tight with tension underneath the dark curtain of her hair. Timid snowfall caught at the luscious, curled ends as it did in his own lashes. He was chaste on frozen toes, but his strides were longer and stronger and as he always had, met her just before she’d completely escaped.

The argument unraveled at full force as the sun unleashed its rays upon having risen to the peak of the skies, and Taeil drowned hopelessly in the beat of all of it. Engaging in a knife fight without purchase of blades.

They were never supposed to end up like this either. Miserable knots of rage and regret a disarrayed twine of vines in his ribcage. A thick well of tears sticking in her throat, building as rainfall would in a dam, unable to escape from glossy eyes that pleaded for him to stop. It felt impossibly wrong for her to look at him like that–made his skin crawl with profound unease.

Yet at the same time, Taeil managed to find necessity in the havoc–possibly as a form of denial of the negativity that made him feel sick to his stomach. He'd heard opportunity and potential for something hopeful in the frail shriek of his name, coming from an exasperated Sera.

It felt close to an epiphany if he'd ever seen one; the sort of clarity that often surfaced only post climax. He suddenly understood why they had to have these moments—why change was important for the development of their friendship, and what other layers sat underneath the veil of that title shared between them.

It was curial for them to anger at each other and throw around words and emotions like children with toys in a sandbox, as this was what allowed them to dig deeper into their hearts and find the things they actively sought for within one another's company.

To complete the maze after long hours spent colliding headfirst to no avail. To find what they truly needed from this friendship, and for Taeil, it was simply a matter of being accepted by Sera. Of having access to more of her world he so badly wanted to be a part of.

To understand her better, so he could understand himself better, too.

Cold split at his dried lips, and her desperate cry forced him to yield from explosiveness entirely. An incoming draft of air swept away their petty argument as if it had never been; innocently stirring and rustling trees and tiny yard bells of neighbors nearby. He felt them watching from above, alongside the sun. But as Taeil basked in the terrifying enormity of his own realization, he had only heart for the erratic surges of Sera's breathing–the dry chafe of her small hands clenching more from frustration than the cold.

He pulled her into his arms and wondered if understanding equalled to immediate willingness to accept changes. But her pulse overlapped even his own with force full enough to dull the mourn of loss of what once was, for now. So he overlooked the thought in favour of the warmth she brought back to his spine, outperforming even that of the sun and her couch combined.

Finally, at length he croaked, "I'm sorry, don't leave. Let's just go back upstairs."

[spc4eva]

Star-Burned: Chapter Two

Ngl, reader is well endowed in the breast department. hate me. trust me, reader is gonna complain about it later about her back hurting.

Paz fluff is probably my favorite thing to write. This fic is undoing me. Goddammit.

Word Count: 8,626

Rating: M (+18) oral sex m!receiving

Masterlist

Cross Posted on AO3

Paz barely understood what was happening when he'd crash landed, falling out of hyperspace and being thrown around the hull of his ship like a tin can before crash landing. It was miraculous he'd survived with just broken ribs. An even bigger miracle that he'd been found. 

You were a pretty young lady with more hair than should be humanly possible, a ray of sunshine, and so hilariously goofy that Paz was smiling beneath his helmet half the time as you trotted in with meals for him, eying him beneath your mop of hair --- which you often tried to manage in a ponytail, though ringlets would fall free and cascade into your face smattered with a constellation of freckles. That's why he named you Tranyc -- Mando'a for sunny or quite literally translating to 'star-burned', because you were the ray of sunshine on his day while he was stuck in bed healing. You were good company, easy to talk to, never berated him despite how much of a burden he was. Took him less than a day to realize you were on your own, running the entire moisture farm on nothing but cultivated crops and several cups of caf a day. And despite how often you fumble over words, you were smart. 

There wasn't much to do and the highlights of Paz's day consisted of you spending time with him. You had piled all your holobooks near him, given him the remote for the television, and anything else you thought he might like while you wandered off to go make repairs and tend to your livelihood. You must've been tired. The farm was a fulltime job on its own and now you had to look after him. Paz felt guilty, because you'd not complained once, not asked him for credits or when he might be leaving. You were cautiously curious, but not impolite with your questions. Not many people would have chanced bringing a Mandalorian into their home, let alone a young woman on her own. That was what was different about you and maybe it had to do with Paz's sheer luck of landing on a relatively backwater planet where people weren't in fear of their lives constantly.

Paz had lucked out. 

He hated feeling weak, being unable to walk on his own, but you were blissfully patient and kind, cracking jokes and making silly faces, telling him how he'd be good as new to start back up on hunting -- or whatever it was that Mandalorians did. And while he was eager to not have his ribs feel as if they'd been kicked in by a bantha, he was also ruing the countdown for when he'd have to return to his ship and leave you behind. Despite it being a few scant weeks, Paz liked you. Not just because you were pretty, but he found your demeanor relaxing. So when he managed to get to his feet to go to the kitchen and he saw your hair sticking out on the couch, he trotted over without an afterthought to check on you. 

He hadn't been expecting to see your coveralls crumpled on the floor and your beet red facing eying him in horror. Originally, he'd believed you were hurt from when he'd fallen on you. After all, you were a small thing. Despite being lean from working the farm you were dwarfed by him. And when the blanket had fallen over... Paz's mind began turning, the gears clicking into place, the disbelief that the pretty ray of sunshine had been caught in the midst of masturbating. To the thought of him. 

Until that point you'd been hospitable and courteous, it was the last thing he expected and dangling deliciously in front of him like a forbidden fruit. He more than owed you at this point. He owed you his life and getting you off wasn't really repayment. In fact, Paz had enjoyed it, thinking the situation was more self indulgent than selfless. You became putty in his hands, passing out from a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction. That brought a smile to his face -- well, there had already been a smile -- but it was bigger now. 

He didn't mind cleaning you up and putting you into some more comfortable clothing, tucking you into the large bed that had obviously been yours. He had found discarded hair elastics under the pillows and a few socks that had been lost to the depths of the sheets. You had taken care of him, he could manage picking up your tiny form and putting you to bed. You didn't come around until morning when Paz was up in the fresher, still testing his weight on his aching chest. 

"You can walk now," you popped your head through the open door, stating the obvious, but it made him smile that you weren't half as doleful as he'd thought you'd be after yesterday. "Um... I can make breakfast real quick and then there's something I wanna show you if you're up to it."

"If I'm up to it?" Paz rumbled, he still couldn't wear his armor, the weight would be too much of a burden. "How are you feeling?"

Your face brightened with blush immediately, matching the hue of your flaming locks at the sheer mention. "G-good, th-thank you."

The moment he'd put you to bed, he'd staggered off to the fresher to relieve himself and the throbbing erection he had from going through his ministrations. Not that you needed to know that he had been wanting more. Yesterday hadn't been about him. The last few weeks you had doted your attention on him. 

"Good."

You darted away, back in your usual attire which consisted of mechanic coveralls, boots, and a tightfitting short sleeve shirt in russet. Your arms were bared from the bicep down and you wore a pair of beat up leather gloves, hair cinched at the base of your neck with a straining scrunchie that fought desperately to contain all the curls which rebelled at being held against the back of your slightly too large overalls. 

Truthfully, you were very nervous over what had happened yesterday and even more distressed that you had slept away the entire freaking day. The hardworking farmer in you was berating you with every step, unbelievable, you slept the entire day until breakfast. Now, when drifters had stayed and you had slept with them, you had woken up and prepared breakfast without an afterthought. There was no guilt, no twisting of nerves in your tummy, because you knew that what had happened was a simple arrangement of two lonely people breaking up the cobwebs. What happened with the Mandalorian should have felt the same, but it didn't. Only one man had stayed a few days and engaged in multiple trysts and by the end, he'd been asking you to leave behind the moisture farm to go adventuring with him. While that was a very... juicy prospect, you couldn't think about leaving behind the canyons you'd known your entire life. You loved it here, even if it was solitude and silence. 

From the views up on the plateau where your farm was located, a bird's eye view of the spanning clay walls, billowing in waves of amber, brown, and orange. Your favorite days were the overcast ones where the clouds would sweep low and fringe the mountaintops with mist. That was during the wet season when the lowest parts of the canyons would fill with turquoise water from the rain. The only freestanding water you'd ever gotten the luxury of seeing and it was still a trip on your speeder bike since you lived pretty high up on the plateaus. Wasn't that time of year though, it was still the dry season and so you had to keep regular maintenance on the farm to suck every bit of moisture up. 

You kept mostly grains on the farm, but had a few animals to include tip-yips which produced eggs. Otherwise, any greenery you had was produced in your greenhouse, utilizing misty puffs of water to keep it nice and humid inside. Without it, you certainly wouldn't have been getting enough nutrients to live out this remote. You would stock up on seed every six months and grow leafy greens, root vegetables, had a few berry bushes, and rhubarbs. They were genetically modified to have additional benefits, keeping you going and healthy. You loved checking in on them, standing in your little bubble of green, imagining other planets that looked just like it but instead of being in a little capsule -- the entire planet was green. That was hard to fathom, giving the landscape you'd grown up on, but so were oceans and you knew they existed. 

Jumbles followed you out to the coop, drooling all over the dirt as you scolded him for getting too close. His head drooped and he stayed behind while you picked out some fresh eggs and threw fodder out for the tip-yips. You knew if you didn't keep the birds carefully locked up, Jumbles would gobble them all up. "Calm down. I'll give you some eggs you beast," you chided as you stopped in the green house to pick a few vegetables and fruit before going back inside. You'd never wanted more aside from companionship and to not be alone. You loved your farm so much and all the work you had put into it. You loved this dry, arid planet and the raw beauty you got to witness. But you weren't perfectly content. 

You were lonely.

Paz was waiting in the kitchen at the table, which was funny, considering he couldn't actually eat with you. Humming to yourself, you put a pot of caf on and then frowned at 6PO, who wandered around aimlessly. "6PO please make yourself useful. Go sweep out the greenhouse if you can't decide on what to do," you sigh, the droid looking as confused as ever, before creaking out the front door.

"Where did you get that droid?" Paz asked curiously as you set a skillet on the stove and began heating it up.

"Found it," you shrug. "Wasn't in one piece, so I scavenged parts and put it all back together again. Some of the neural harnessing was missing, so the droid will never be complete unless I replace it entirely."

"You mean you reprogrammed it?" he actually sounded sort of impressed.

You rolled your shoulders again. "Yeah, suppose so. Wasn't too hard. Lots of trial and error... and caf." And time. During the wet season you had more time on your hands and so typically that's when you'd spend it on projects.

"How'd you learn how to do that? Droids are complicated pieces of tech."

"My dad taught me. He was an engineer, could run this whole place without even trying. Always knew how to fix everything," you gave a sad chuckle at the thought of your parents. You missed them so much. Maybe if they hadn't passed you wouldn't be half as lonely and feeling as if there was something missing in your life. "Studied on... Coruscant, I think? Before the war broke out. Round 20BBY he came out here with my mom and I because they wanted to avoid the fighting."

"And he taught you everything he knew," Paz assumed.

"Oh, well, I mean, probably not everything. He probably would have found a way to fix 6PO completely."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

The corner of your mouth quirked involuntarily and you stared down at the pan as you began sautéing the cut up tubulars. "We get a wet season here every standard year. The canyons are vast, mostly stone, and not porous. My mother was sick, so they had to make a visit to the city which is a 2 day trip on bike. Usually, we don't leave during the wet season. Too dangerous. But mom's condition wasn't improving and so my father decided the risk was worth it. 

"In order to get to the city, you have to go through the canyons. This time of year, no big deal, but during the wet season? Can start raining without warning and when it does, the crevasses act as funnels, diverting water to the lowest point, which... you're catching my drift, right?" You glance up, not particularly fond of explaining how nature worked around here, especially when it had taken your parents from you.

"Flash floods?"

"Mm," you began cracking the eggs. "Can't outrun a flash flood. Not on a speeder bike. They drowned. So-" you drew in a sharp breath. You had rationalized this several times over. Never really talked about it, but it didn't make you cry anymore. This planet had been good to you. Better than most people could hope for when they settled on a farm. You knew that you were lucky because of that and you couldn't resent the planet even if it took your parents from you. "The Jawas found them a little while after that. They know us, we trade with them -- I still do -- and they brought my parents back for me. Despite what people say about them, they didn't ask me for payment."

"I'm sorry... was that six years ago?"

"Mhm," you confirmed, wiping your hands off and picking up a few eggs, cracking them over your massiff's eagerly waiting mouth. "Not your fault. Might be safe from raiders and looters, but it's a harsh unforgiving landscape. Sometimes you get too comfortable and forget about that. My dad knew the risks when he took my mother. They lived a good life, just wish they didn't have to go that way." You wish you hadn't been left alone. 

"Where's the closest neighbor aside from the Jawas?"

"Hundreds of miles," now you were plating the food and grabbing mugs for the caf. "The canyons are the best place to set up moisture farms. The deserts soak up all the water from the wet seasons, but due to the stone around here, it's a lot easier for moisture to be trapped in the vaporators. However, they're remote and a lot of the plateaus are too dangerous to set up on because the foundation of stone is likely to crumble. Only about three farms in all of the canyons and this is one of them. We're the highest producers of water on the planet, especially during the wet season. 'Bout the only time I see starships since the city will come and pick it up."

You slapped Jumbles on the nose as he leaned over the counter toward one of the freshly assembled breakfasts, causing him to whine. "Oh shut it you baby," you hadn't even hit him that hard, just a little boop on the nose and he was pretending you'd wailed into him. "Drama queen."

You brought Paz's food over for him and went to grab your own. "I can go outside. A few things I can start on before we head out."

"Sit down and eat first," he invited, which confused you, because how were the both of you going to eat with the whole helmet situation. "If you sit at the counter with your back to me, it'll be fine."

Oh, well that went against what he said about only removing his helmet when he was alone. But... that also meant he trusted you. How many opportunities did you have to remove his helmet? The first day you probably could have if you weren't terrified of being shot. Until you'd gotten to know Paz better, he had been the big scary Mandalorian and not the patient and easygoing one you knew now. "Are you certain? I mean, it's not a big deal. I eat on the go all the time," you object kindly, not wishing for him to feel obligated to have you in your own kitchen.

"Sit," he insisted.

"Well, I mean-" you grabbed a chair, mostly talking to yourself when you muttered those words and pulled it up to the counter. Jumbles was drooling on your leg, looking at you as if you hung the stars, which admittedly -- was quite cute except for the fact that you knew he just wanted your leftovers. 

"Where'd you get a massiff?" There was a click and a hiss, the helmet disengaging and being set on the table. You tried not to think about how easy it would be to turn around and finally get a look at him, focusing on your cup of caf instead.

"Kind of just... found him," you reveal, thinking about the day you'd stood toe to toe with the beast, your arms full of scrap metal, wondering if you were going to have to use the bacta shot after getting munched on by the creature. "Thought he was gonna try and eat me."

"It's wild?" Paz's voice was different, unmodulated. There was still the same warmth you were used to, but the lack of the radio static and translation from human to droid made your skin hot, little lances of static playing down your spine as the deep bass in its full glory.

"Uuuuh," you almost forget that you're eating, your egg falling off the fork and onto your lap. Jumbles gobbles it up before you even think about grabbing it. "Jee-uh-yeah. Started feeding him scraps, probably shouldn't have done that, and then he kinda just started listening to me. I read that on Tatooine Tusken Raiders keep them as hounds, so I thought that maybe they're just partial to bonding with sentient beings."

Honestly, you'd always been good with animals. An uncanny, unnatural, totally unexplainable ability you'd possessed since you were a kid and ran into a wild dewback and nearly pissed yourself. Instead of swallowing you whole, the dewback had palmed your hand and then trotted off. The canyons were host to a plethora of fauna, many of which were quite dangerous. Having Jumbles had actually saved your skin more often than not, as the canine was keen on keeping his source of food around. 

"When they're raised from pups they are," Paz informed you.

"Oooh. Well, I found Jumbles when he was an adult," you gave the dope a fond pat on the head. He leaned into your gloved grasp and harrumphed contentedly. "Maybe he was already trained and got lost." Yeah, that sounded more logical than your weird animal whispering abilities. "He's been good. If not for him, I don't think I would have found you. He's the one who led me over to your starship." And that's when you realized something. "H-hey, Jumbles is living and your helmet-"

"I'm not worried about a massiff seeing me," Paz chuckled. "I'm not going to shoot your dog."

"I-I didn't say you were," you stammer, heart fluttering a little bit as you gripped one of the massiff's spines to comfort yourself. He could very easily shoot your dog. Did he want to shoot your dog? You didn’t think so, but you weren’t keen on losing him.  "Just you said no living thing and then you'd only take your helmet off alone..."

"No living sentient thing," he corrected, his silverware clattering before the helmet clicked back into place. A tiny wave of disappointment washed off you, almost as if you were expecting to get a little more time with his raw unfiltered voice. "Thank you for breakfast. Good as always." 

You blushed slightly at the compliment. It was just simple food, hearty enough to keep you going throughout the day. Standing up, you nearly whirled into the Mandalorian's chest as you went to retrieve his things for him. Catching yourself before you did, you offered an apologetic smile before frisking the plate from him and placing it in the sink for later. It was a sonic sink, you were very careful about how water was used. Only for food and growing plants. 

Out by the front door you grabbed your outing belt, which had your blaster and a set of tools that you'd been using. Picking up the sack beside it, laden with a few canteens, ration bars, and holobooks you glanced back at Paz. He still didn't have his armor on, but he did adorn his belt with a vibro-blade and pistol. "C'mon," you told him, offering a small wave before striding out the front door and into the crisp, sunny morning.

Drinking in a deep breath of dry air, you gave a dizzying and pleased smile before beginning to talk. "Now, I told you that I borrowed your speeder bike to get us back up here. There was a bit of damage to it since it took a beating during the crash. Most superficial, which I managed to get the dings out of the metal and replace the exhausts which were nearly crushed. Probably needs a new paint job, but I didn't have any paint laying around," you explained, bringing him over to the bike. You'd doted a bit of time on it, because you knew bikes and it was easy for you to fix. Plus it was nicer than the one you had on the farm, so you'd been using it to go back and forth between the ranch and his starship. 

Paz's helmet was craned down as he gave the bike a one over and your original pride began to fizzle out with each beat of silence. Finally, "You did a really good job. It... didn't take up too much of your time, did it?"

"Hm? Oh no, not at all. Bikes are easy, fixed plenty of bikes in much worse condition than this," you gave it a fond pat, relief flooding you that he wasn't upset that you'd fiddled with it. "But this isn't what I wanted to show you," you climbed on. "Hop on!"

Paz chuckled at your overexuberance, the way the bike looked much too big for someone of your stature. Afterall, it was his bike and so he'd gotten one that would fit his physique. Your arms were stretched upward to meet the accelerators and it was quite comical from the dopey, excited smile on your face to the way your legs barely reached the stirrups. He sat on behind you, edging up comfortably so that his thighs framed you. 

"Might wanna hang on," you warned mischievously. 

"What, this isn't going to be a leisurely ride?"

"The canyons look much the same when boxed in. Trust me, just hang on," you told him, feeling your cheeks roll was heated pleasure as strong arms encircled you and his pelvis pressed tighter to your backside. Oh, that felt really good, almost enough that you could lean back into his strong embrace and relax as you started this ride. But... No. You chased away the devious thoughts and tried not to fixate on the sturdy Mandalorian behind you as you revved the engine. It purred like a loth-cat, humming deliciously before you kicked off and started whistling down the hill and into the chasm that led into the canyons. 

He wasn't expecting how quickly the two of you rocketed off. Arms tensing around you to prevent himself from sliding right off as gravity snared him, he let out a breathy laugh. "You weren't kidding."

"Tried to warn you," you laughed at him, shouting over the din of the motors that echoed against the canyon walls. Bowing your head ever so much, you went up another gear and stuck the wide turn. He grabbed on again, his chest now flush to your back as you dared to accelerate again. 

"Where-" his voice was breathless in your ear. "Where did you learn how to drive like this?"

"Mom," you grin. "Dad was the engineer. Mom was the podracer."

"Kriff!" he cursed as you hooked the bike, reversed the thrusters, and then sputtered a sharp turn that should not have been possible except for the trick maneuver. During down time and on your long journeys to the city, you'd picked up a thing or two from your mother. Speeder bikes were easy compared to podracers, she'd tell you. Small, streamline, and capable of quite a few tricks if you understood the inertia, gravity, and capabilities of the machine you were on. Passing the signs out for the Jawas, you curved the halt, brakes slamming as the sideways turn kicked up clay sand and dust. He was still clinging to you even after you'd stopped.

"Did I frighten the big Mandalorian?" you teased, his vice grip finally relenting after taking a moment to realize that you stopped. 

Paz's muscles were vibrating from the adrenaline filling him from helmet to boot from the ride. The last thing he'd been expecting from you, the little farmhand mechanic, were daring turns and hiking the bike up to full speed without as much of an ounce of panic as you tried to take a 90 degree turn. Even Paz wasn't as gutsy with a bike to attempt what you had done, but you'd stuck the turn gloriously and were laughing at him now. He hadn't realized that he could like you more, but you were filled with pleasant little surprises. 

"Can you podrace too?" he countered as he let you go and you hopped down, springy, unaffected and brimming with joy. Your hair was scattered a bit, a few curls puffing loose from your scrunchie.

"Never tried, but can't be too difficult," you reply. Not arrogance or mock confidence, just... the comprehension of someone who knew a lot about machines and how they worked. "Now, come take a look. Gotta talk to you about somethings-" you padded away, leaving Paz to dismount and trail after you. 

The ship still had a hole in the hull, landing gear squashed, but the supply crates had been moved back inside. For something that had crash landed, Paz was astonished how intact it appeared. The reason for his confusion was soon explained as you brought him inside and he saw that wires had been soldered off and repairs had been made. 

"So, I've been heading out here when I can to make sure the thing didn't leak its fuel lines everywhere," you started, gesturing to the neatly arranged containers. "Now, I'm not a starship mechanic, but I have a few old holobooks and the manual that was laying around in here. I read up on them and was able to figure out that the fuel line was cut -- managed to fix that -- and the engines were running at 10% capacity after debris got sucked in. That's how the thing didn't explode on impact, the thrusters were still working enough that it padded your landing. 

"Landing gear is shot. I don't have any lifts strong enough to hoist the ship up or the proper caliber of steel to fix the hull. I got the engines to bout 50%, so theoretically that should get you to the spaceport on the other side of the planet. Gonna be crunchy, don't know what's hiding underneath here. So you've got a few options -- try your best to get to the spaceport and the pay for repairs there, you can try to get off planet, though next planet over is Tatooine and you'd pay an arm and a leg for shoddy repairs, or we can try trading with the Jawas. They've got their sandcrawler which might have the capability of picking your ship up, but won't be cheap. Even with my connections they're gonna want something good."

Paz was flabbergasted and at a loss for words as he looked at the work you'd done on top of the farm, on top of taking care of him, and how candid you were about what solutions he had going forward. "How did you have the time to do all this?" he asked.

"Hm?" you were looking over at a few wires that needed to be routed properly. "Uh, lots and lots of caf."

No wonder you had passed out for over 16 hours yesterday. Additionally, you'd read dry holobooks on starships and for what? To help him? At this point he knew that you weren't expecting anything out of it. He'd not been to a lot of backwater planets, but he was beginning to realize that people like you were more common in these quiet remote locations, just happy to be helping. Why that nearly broke him right there, he couldn't say, but he was absolutely moved by your selfless compassion that you didn't even really acknowledge, because it was all so natural to you. A little gem in the canyons, hiding up on your plateau farming water. 

"What do I owe you? Repairs like this cost a lot... you've saved me a lot of credits, Tranyc."

You were a little distracted, admittedly, your eyes finding the problems you hadn't remedied yet. "Owe me?" you repeated before finally looking back toward the visor. "You're my guest. Don't worry about it. Consider it a little bit of desert hospitality. There's still some work I need to do, haven't gotten round to it, but I figured you'd want to see your ship."

He didn't owe anything. How didn't he owe anything? Paz was shell shocked as you turned away, removing a set of pliers from your tool belt as you started working on the frayed wires that were getting on your nerves. People always wanted something, no matter how minute or simple it was and yet... You were fiddling along, pleased as a womp rat in sand you continued to chug along as if he weren't even there. And you'd learned how to do this in weeks? Taught yourself how to do it? Your parents had to have been smart and if your father studied at university on Coruscant -- you might've been modest about it, but that meant he'd imparted the same years of study into you while you grew up. 

He knew how to make baseline repairs, how to weld, and keep the ship from falling apart. What you were doing -- he had no idea how to do. Truthfully, the gunship needed a lot of work before it was going to be good enough to leave the planet and you were correct -- parts were needed. Sitting on a storage crate, he placed his helmet in his palm and rubbed his aching ribs, trying to think of which path would be the best option. Going to the spaceport meant that he'd leave you behind. He also didn't know how much repairs were going to cost on this planet. Flying to Tatooine was just a bad decision all around, who knew if the ship could handle it. Then trading with Jawas... It would keep him around you for a bit longer and you knew the Jawas. He was bound to have something that they wanted aboard the Kote. He could also use a talented mechanic, but somehow doubted that you'd be willing to part with your farm. 

The way you'd talked about your home, you were very proud of it and you loved the landscape. But still... all alone... he didn't like the thought of that. Even if this planet was relatively safe, what if the Jawas found your body in the canyon ravines? 

He had been lost to his thoughts as you worked, the ship heating up in the midday sun. You'd flipped down the straps of your coveralls to work and that's when he noticed. A thin sheen of sweat decorated your arms, a few curls sticking to your face as you hunched over the controls for his cryo chamber. But that wasn't what attracted his attention. No, it was the swell of your breasts beneath the fitted shirt you wore, the perky mounds that were well sized for your slender form. The fabric left little to the imagination, mostly because you weren't wearing a bra. Why would you? You lived on your own and bras were awful, constricting things that made you even clammier on hot days. Plus they were stupidly expensive. 

The coveralls usually kept them hidden, but with the thick panel of fabric cast down, Paz was staring. He'd been distracted by your lower half yesterday, but not his fixation was on the top. How could you look so good in just a tight fitting shirt that didn't betray any cleavage? He estimated that each would be more than a handful for him, the nipples pressing through the fabric and you didn't notice, completely unaware of the lack of decorum because you were a farmer and those sort of things probably didn't pop into your mind. Which was why he felt a tiny bit ashamed watching you, eying you from the protective mask of his helmet. Would you want him to touch you again? You had told him that you'd been getting off to him, but perhaps that was in the moment when he'd caught you.

Neither of you had broached the subject this morning, but nor were you being incredibly demure or shy. You were just being normal. 

"Wanna toss me a canteen from in there?" you asked, pointing to the bag you'd dumped by the hole in the hull. 

Paz tore his eyes away, glancing down, retrieving the requested item. Tossing it to you, you caught it and upcapped it, taking a few generous gulps and spilling some on yourself. He gritted his teeth as you wiped your mouth, the soft plush lips having been locked around the rim, the water seeping into your shirt. Your shirt. Dank farrik. Now he was staring again, hopelessly pressing his palms together as he tried to keep it together. Stars, he wanted more of you than just the bit of pleasure he'd brought yesterday, but it wasn't his place to take it. You'd already gone above and beyond in assisting him and so he couldn't just ask you to sleep with him, no matter how much he wanted it. That felt... wrong. Like a dirty, awful thing to request after he'd come to like you -- only utilizing you for your body in the end and not the company he'd grown fond of.

"Did you think about what you're gonna do?" you ask him, drawing his visor back up to you.

"The Jawas--" his voice was kinda hoarse, which made you tilt your head. "Might have something on here that they'd like."

A smile unfurled on your face, because secretly you'd been praying that he'd choose that option. Just stealing more time with the Mandalorian, despite the fact that he was stranded. You didn't want him to leave, but it was going to happen eventually, just like it did with everyone else who came here. Everyone left. Everyone but you and the animals. You were pretty sure you were gonna cry like a baby when the Mandalorian finally departed. "I can send 'em a transmission tonight. Probably will take them the better part of a day to get here, but they'll come."

"Thank you again," Paz insisted, but you brushed it off with a silly and overly dramatic hand wave. 

"There's gotta be some kindness in this galaxy. 'Else it'd be a sad, miserable, hopeless place," you counter, springing back to your feet, dusting your gloves off animatedly. "Let's finish up in here and then head back. Got some work I have to do on the farm too."

Sonic showers weren't the best, but they were all that you knew. Aside from when the rain would billet down during the wet seasons, you didn't know what an actual water shower felt like. Either way, you needed to get the sweat and grime off of you by the end of each day, so you trotted out with your pajamas on and into the Mandalorian. You'd already contacted the Jawas and were getting ready to tuck in for the night when he caught you. "Oof, sorry... I-I didn't hurt your ribs did I?" Your eyes flitted to where his injury was immediately.

"I'm fine," he assured you, large hands butterflied against your sides where he'd caught you from doing too much damage by trolloping right into his chest. Big. His hands were big. So large that they covered your ribs entirely when gripping your sides. They lingered, the skin beneath growing hot and beginning to tingle. Then he removed them, as if he were worried about overstaying his welcome. 

Your skin sighed where he released and you glanced up chewing your lip. "Um..." uncertain -- you didn't know where this was going, but why the hell not. What did you have to lose? He was stuck here until his ship was going to be fixed. "Yesterday--"

"I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have done that," Paz interrupted, launching your heart up into your throat.

"Wha-no, I liked it," you assured him, feeling courageous enough to take his hands in yours. Maker, you looked like a child, holding those large calloused palms in yours. "I... wouldn't mind more. I-i-if that's what you want, of course," you sputtered, cheeks sweltering and ears about to rocket off from the intense embarrassment you felt in suggesting such a thing. It'd been easier before. You could see the faces of your guests, gauge what they were thinking, see the lust in their eyes that you could give right back. They'd never stayed this long, never gotten to know you this well, and... you didn't want to make him uncomfortable because you felt a little horny with him around. But Maker, how was that not possible? He was an absolute unit, pure muscle, easy conversation, and had a voice that shattered your resolve like an earthquake.

"Would I want more?" he repeated slowly and your stomach sunk into the abyss, blood draining from your face. The leap of faith had been in vain and instead of swan diving into water, you'd hit stone. And then suddenly his hands were on your chest, driving the air from your in uncontrolled gasps as he squeezed. "Maker--" he cursed, vocoder breaking up as you almost melted on the spot. "So... you're so mesh'la. Had my eyes on you all day while you were working. You're such... a distraction."

He wasn't rough, despite holding onto your breasts, moving carefully over the fabric as he caressed you. In the past, your chest had been a fixation of other lovers because you were well endowed and you were accustomed to rough squeezing to the point where it was painful. It was almost as if most men just wanted to push them until they popped or just liked the pillowy sensation of squeezing and didn't care much for how it felt for you. They were bloody sensitive and you didn't appreciate them being manhandled -- except for right now, right now was good. Better than good in fact. 

"Distraction? I'm the one doing all the work," you mumbled, leaning into his touch as he palmed you and rubbed circles over your breasts, the nipples stiffening beneath the fabric and dimpling it. "While you just... just sit there."

"I'm still hurt," he didn't sound very convincing, maybe that wasn't the point. 

"Too hurt to be doing anything too... arduous," you pointed out, humming as he gave another gentle squeeze. "Last night did you-- I sort of just--" passed out. Say it. You passed out and left him there with an erection. That couldn't have been too pleasant. To top it off with a cherry, he'd put you to bed with clothes on. 

"I took care of things, mesh'la. You left me with some... good visuals," his thumb was circling your nipple, still separated by your shirt, the careful flicking making you shudder. Your entire body was reacting, legs weak and the same radiating heat vibrating between your thighs. 

"Bu-ut it couldn't have been that great. N-not like..." you fell off, head lolling slightly as his hands flipped the hem of your shirt and began cruising the plane of your tummy, scratching its way to your breast. A hot palm met skin, a low moan echoing as he grasped you firmly, but not too hard. 

"Stars, you're so soft," he murmured, pushing the shirt up -- higher and higher until your breasts were revealed to the air. "Maker, look at you."

The praise made your thighs clench together. They didn't usually talk. Not as much as Paz was, which was somewhat ironic considering he had a helmet on and was a mysterious Mandalorian and yet he filled your ears up as he roamed you. No, it was all typically rushed, frenzied, and to sate both parties. Honestly, the sate part was just the rutting, having to take your own hands to your clit while your past lovers plowed into you. There was no copious foreplay aside from a little making out and breast squeezing and while they'd called you pretty, it never really felt the same as the way as Paz's voice. The way in which he was breathy, as if he couldn't believe his eyes, and that you'd been put on the planet delicately by the Maker himself. It made your heart rush, galloping forward, and it made you want him more.

"Le-let me," you found your hands, having been savoring his exploring before brushing the hem of his trousers. You had felt him, sort of, yesterday but you didn't actually know what was beneath the belt. From how tall and broad he was, you had an assumption of what was there. "Y-you're still hurt, s-so..." pitifully tinny, your voice was sliding away as you offered to give him something in exchange for what he'd done for you.

"Mesh'la... I-you have already done so much-" he protested. 

"But yesterday--" you were whining now, hand coasting down more until you cupped his groin, feeling his length twitch. He was already hard. You weren't even undressed and he was already rock solid. "It'll feel better this way."

"Is... is that what you want?"

You nod, waiting for permission.

He couldn't say no. Not while your palm was between his legs and you were staring up at him with big, round, imploring eyes. In fact, he didn't think he could possibly deny you anything, removing his hands, the shirt falling back down over your spectacular chest. "I-Yes," he confirmed, drawing a shaking breath which made his ribs ache. 

You undid the belt buckle, hands scrambling slightly from nerves before undoing the buttons. Coming down on your knees didn't really work, there was still too much of a height difference, forcing you to half-crouch as your fingers slipped beneath the fabric of his boxes and untucked his manhood. Now it was your turn to be wordless. You had expected it, but expecting and witnessing were two very different things. He was massive, just the sight of him making your core twitch painfully, imagining trying to accommodate him, doubting that he'd even be able to fully sheath himself in you without pushing into your tummy. If he could even get in. 

Ok, so when you had offered to do this you thought he would fit in your mouth. Doubt welled in your stomach and he must have noticed as you stared down his cock, brushing a hand over your loose hair. "You don't have to-" he soothed. But the challenge spurned you on, undaunted and a little over zealous to be honest. 

"You'll tell me... what you like?" you had just flattened your tongue against the weeping head of his cock, licking like a kitten, lathing him before you'd attempt to take more. 

His thighs shook and he gave a terse nod. 

You weren't extremely experienced in this field. Just enough that you knew now not to bite someone. But this wasn't just 'someone'. You liked Paz a lot and wanted it to feel good for him. To chase away the pain in his chest and to show how much you appreciated what he'd done for you. Guys liked blowjobs, didn't they? That's why they were requested so much, you just assumed that he'd like it all the same, and honestly you wanted to become more intimate with his cock after feeling it pressed beneath your leg. 

You ran your tongue along his shaft, trailing back around before leaving saliva. Your hand smoothed the wetness over him, pumping a few times over his length to help lubricate him. Then you made your first attempt, tongue over your lips as you pushed his girth into the damp chasm of your mouth. He groaned, fingers tightening in your hair, which gave you the courage to take him deeper. The head of his cock met the resistance of the back of your throat and you gagged, eyes watering and jaw aching. "Relax, mesh'la. Relax your throat-" he managed gently through tight breaths. 

Easier said than done, forgetting to breathe, your throat clenching, you were forced to pull away for a moment.

Spittle trailed down your plush lips, cheeks flushed wildly as you considered your next approach. You were a sight for sore eyes, Paz's own glued to you as you gasped for air. You'd bitten off more than you could chew, but he admired your undaunted commitment as you sank back onto him and closed your eyes, clutching onto his leg for balance. This time, you were able to take his guidance better, breathing through your nose before easing your throat. Your mouth was small, tight, and damp. With the accommodation of the back of your throat, Paz's hips bucked and a strangled moan crackled through the modulator. 

"G-good. Fuck -- so good, mesh'la," he praised, beginning to move in tandem with you, fucking deeply into your throat. Your face was hot and wet, tears leaking out from your eyes at the sensation of your throat being stretched. The noises were wet and sloppy, punctuated by sharp hums as you tried to do well, to do what he wanted, to keep going -- but Maker, it hurt. Your attention was fixated completely on pleasing him, forgetting entirely about your own climbing heat, just trying not to clench your throat or forget to breathe through your nose. Then you dared it, reaching up and grabbing his balls, massaging them in your palm gently as he pushed into you. "Ahh- oh, fuck-- I'm going to cum. Do you want me to--"

You managed the smallest nod, squeezing him tighter as his thrusts rocked you, shattering almost all your resolve as you gagged. Ropes of cum splattered in the back of your throat, your lips suctioning to him as he stuttered to a halt, palm on the back of your head. His skin was like velvet on your tongue, slightly salty, but smooth and soft. Lavishing the last drops from his cock like precious water from the desert. In fact, it was more precious than water, more rare.  

"Mesh'la... ohh," he keened softly, his hand spreading over your hair, petting you, brushing the curls from your face - which was wet with spilled tears, saliva, and a little cum. Releasing him from your sweet mouth, he brushed the white droplets from the corner of your lips, which you sucked off after it being offered. "W-what did I do?"

You tilted your head in confusion.

"What did I do to deserve you?"

You tried to talk, but your voice crackled in the back of your throat, so hoarse and quiet that you simply shut your mouth and blinked. Oh fuck. Had he broken your vocal chords? Panic began to seize you and you clutched his leg and offered a very broken, "UhhhmmMm."

He bent down, cupping your face, holding it between his palms as he took a good look at you. "I was a little too rough, wasn't I?"

"S'okay," fuck that hurt. Hurt to talk. Least you still had a voice.

"What do you want? Do you want me to--" His helmet was so close, almost brushing your nose as he looked at you. For a brief moment, you felt as if you were gazing into his eyes. What color were they? Brown? Green? Hazel? Maybe blue? 

You shook your head and gave him a weary smile. That had literally taken everything out of you and you just wanted a cold glass of water and to curl up in bed. "Water. Sleep?..." you had to swallow again, struggling to get the words out. "W-with you?"

"Just... that?"

Oh no, had you chosen wrong? Did he really want to play with you? Honestly, you were good. Just making him finish had been enough for you. Your legs and throat ached, it had been a long day. You offered a dejected nod. No one ever really cuddled with you and you assumed that he'd be warm, comfortable, and feel like a blanket of protection. You wanted to feel that, even if only just once. Having sex wasn't as important as this to you. Sure, sex with him would probably be amazing, but you didn't want to overexert him because you were being greedy. Despite getting it infrequently, you'd never gotten a good cuddle. Not since you were a little girl and curled up in your parents' arms.

"Ok, ok, mesh'la," he agreed, smoothing your hair again before pushing his helmet to your brow. The gesture lit your cheeks up and felt... strangely intimate. Cool beskar kissing your sweating skin, chasing away the sweltering blush and just a thin layer between you and the Mandalorian. It felt like a kiss, but it wasn't. So gentle and tender that you let it linger and closed your eyes. "C'mon, it's been a long day," he muttered, gripping you beneath your elbow and guiding you to your feet. Your bed was just a few paces away and you were already dressed for it. 

Who would have thought that a Mandalorian could be this... kind? From all the stories you'd heard, you had half-expected him to be a broody tin can that barely offered you the time of day. But there was a man underneath, a man who had desires, who had feelings, and who could be delicate. He wasn't all blasterfire, beskar, and war -- he was still a man. 

He put you into bed, leaving the room for a moment to get a glass of water. You smiled at his return, accepting the offered water, and gulping it down. Your throat ailed and your jaw was already beginning to groan in protest. But the water helped. Putting it down on the nightstand, the Mandalorian removed his boots and climbed into bed with you, just trousers and an undershirt. Offering an open arm, his impressive bicep being revealed from beneath the short sleeve of his shirt. 

You snuggled forward, heart pounding solidly in your ears as you tucked into his side. Maker, you loved this, the way his arm coiled around you, planting against the small of your back before tugging you in tightly. It wasn't as if you didn't feel safe in your home, you always did, but this was different. You trembled slightly because you'd yearned for this proximity, not just a rush of passion, but what came after and the security of him. From the strength of his muscles, to heat of his skin to yours, and the smell of him so close. This is what had been missing. The last piece to the puzzle that was home, the rut in your belly and soul curling pleasantly as you melted into him. Please never end. But you knew morning would come and one day he'd have to leave like everyone else. And you knew that day would be soul shattering. Because once again, you'd be alone.

[sooibian]

Dittany

✨ part of the Spellbound collab series with insanely talented writers @hkynm ​ @fullsuninbloom​ @blackberrykai​ and @j-pping​

✨ pairing: hufflepuff!kyungsoo x ravenclaw!oc/reader ft. ravenclaw!chen

✨ themes: fluff, mild angst, slow burn, cheesy couples

✨ genre: hogwarts!au

✨ description: broken bones and a tedious detention - can I still say that this is the best christmas i've ever had? it’s because I found magic in him - the big eyed, dark haired, hufflepuff boy. funny I say that as a witch! but sadly, good things don’t last forever.

✨ word count: 16.5k

✨ tag list: @eggsodose @christiandosworld @imgonweast @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt @changshapatrol @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @his-mochi-cheeks @charmedbaek @xiusoomygod @crescent-iak @gdaystays @mangobaek @keonaforever21 @staryyugy @hyckrens @yixing-jaebeom @halfbloodkjm @thepoeticfirefly​

With a baggie of Caramel Cobwebs grasped between her fingers, he saw her head towards Gladrags Wizardwear. He feigned untied shoelaces as his friends Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Chen made a beeline for a table at The Three Broomsticks. He stayed just so that he could see her for just a little bit longer as she walked down the quaint but bustling lane of Hogsmeade. It baffled him how different she looked to him every time he saw her. 

Yet she looked so familiar.

A sound of girls giggling reached his ears suddenly making him more aware. A jet of purple light shot in her direction and she stood frozen, right in the middle of the street, face buried in hands.

It enraged him to see her like this, weak and lost. With a flick of his wand he unbound her legs. Misty eyed, she hesitantly looked over her shoulder for a fleeting moment before hurrying into the safer confines of the shop as though nothing had happened.

This was their first ever trip to Hogsmeade and he thought J. Pippin's Potions worth the detour. 

Rat tails. Porcupine quills. Billywig stings.

The Hair Raising potion had its benefits, after all. 

A few drops of it in their pumpkin juice and those girls went around school with their hair standing on end. It made them the laughing-stock and not a single soul suspected the innocent looking, third-year Hufflepuff boy.

.

.

.

Professor Trelawney's got me feeling like I’ve downed an entire flask of Felix Felicis.

Maybe it was the fine sherry I brought her for Christmas and if I'm being honest she was most likely under the influence of some at the time - a bit too early in the day for such an indulgence but that’s just my opinion. Anyway, she has prophesied that today’s going to be a momentous day for me. She said it would “change the course of my destiny”. Jupiter has entered Pisces owing to which I’ll be able to open myself up more to the world. I shudder at the thought but her comically large, moony eyes bore a distinct hint of euphoria so I’ll take her word for it. And I don’t care what “opinions” other students - or even Professors for that matter - have of her but I’ll always believe that Divination is a highly compelling (albeit misunderstood) branch of magic. 

And Professor Trelawney is a truly gifted Seer.

With a spring in my step, I'm practically galloping down the Great Hall after a hearty breakfast and Professor Flitwick is unfeignedly in his element. A peppy tune on his lips, he blossoms golden baubles out of his wand, trailing them over the branches of the new dozen of frost covered fir trees akin to a Maestro weaving a symphony with his baton. Christmas has always been an ethereal treat for the eyes at Hogwarts. The Castle is covered in several feet of silver snow, in the Great Hall thick streams of holly and mistletoe criss-cross the ceilings and enchanted snow falls warm and dry from it. While I do feel a little lonely sometimes, I'd rather spend the holidays here than back home with Gran.  

Fourteen years of having to raise me all by herself after Mum and Dad passed away couldn’t have been easy. I reckon she could do well without having to unnecessarily fret over me during the holidays. And I could do very well without her persuasions, asking me to live up to the dreams my parents had had for me. Hopefully, she's enjoying herself with a cup or two of Firewhisky in the evenings in the company of her Ministry friends and gorging on those delicious Ugly Christmas Sweater Cookies and Liquorice Wands that she so relishes!

"Looks great, Professor!" I say to Professor Flitwick and with a cheery laugh he waves his wand bearing arm at me. I duck at the sudden attack of tinsels but one golden bauble nests in the loop of my topknot anyway. I think I'll keep it and use it for Hagrid's gift.

Hagrid!

A glance out the window behind the staff table and I resolve to brave the weather and pay him a long overdue visit. I have a little something for him and old Fang. I won’t lie, it helps to be the granddaughter of an influential woman for Hagrid’s Christmas presents don’t come easy. 

Another great thing about Christmas is that I have the castle all to myself. The dormitory is vacant and the Common Room is far emptier than usual. And I’m spared the everyday torment of hushed whispers and giggles and the occasional “practical jokes”. Carefully, I bring Hagrid’s present out of its little pen to measure it up against the stray bauble. Not his size. He rapidly blinks his beetle brown eyes at me and crawls up my arm with a certain urgency, nestling into the crook of my neck. “Aww Mr. Twiggles”, I plop the Bowtruckle down onto my lap and wrap a pink ribbon around its knobbly brown arm. Placing him under an airy bronze cloche, alongside a huge slab of butterbeer fudge, I bid him adieu. 

***

My butt is freezing, I’m pretty sure I heard something crack and it was definitely not the ice. A terrified Bowtruckle is smack in the middle of my face while I lie amidst crumbs of Butterbeer Fudge. Since this could be his only shot at freedom, Mr. Twiggles scuttles into the Forbidden Forest. Taking stock of the situation I realise that Fang’s present has now become one with the snow, I’ve lost Hagrid’s present to its natural habitat and probably snapped a few of my bones in the process. 

But this is the least of my concerns. 

My literal fall further down the school’s social structure has a witness - the Muggle-born Hufflepuff boy, who belongs to probably one of the most influential cliques in school. I don’t think much of them, to be honest. They’re just a babbling band of bumbling baboons. But can’t I have a day go by without being humiliated? Is that a lot to ask? Hagrid’s hut is barely ten feet from here. I wouldn’t mind breaking all of my bones in his company. He would’ve probably offered me some tea and his infamous rock cakes before carrying me to the Hospital Wing. Out of all the places in Hogwarts... out of all the places in the world...did this wide-eyed bloke really have to be here? Exactly in this moment? And just how many students is Hagrid friends with anyway? And why him? I swear I’ve never seen the boy smile. Not even when he’s with his rowdy friends. 

This can’t be it. 

This can’t be the ‘momentous day that changes the course of my destiny’. This is just like...any other rubbish day and it’s crushing my soul. I'm starting to believe that Divination is a whole lot of hogwash and Professor Trelawney is indeed a fraud. But at this point, I can’t feel my limbs and I really, really could use some help.

Squinting hard, the Muggle-born rushes to my aid. My lips begin to quiver and I feel warm tears trickle down my temples, further wetting my already damp hair. He stoops down and his eyes widen with surprise and recognition and he scoffs at my immobilized state. As he’s helping me up, I wrap my right arm around his shoulders. An imperceptible smile tugs at his lips as his left arm firms around my waist and before I know it, I’m standing on my own two feet - or one. My weight is supported by him and my good right leg. But before I can begin to thank him, a sharp pain shoots to my head and I see little stars buzzing around his ears. Maybe they are real! 

“Wrackspurts”, I mumble and observe his lips form the shape of a heart when curved into a wide smile. His smile is….bewitching.

And it's the last thing I see.

***

Madam Pomfrey strongly insists on keeping me caged in for the night. She’s implacable and my protests are met with a standard taut response, “Broken bones are particularly dangerous in winters. You’re staying the night.” How do I explain that I feel fine and keeping me in will only make matters a LOT worse for me.

I have to go see the Hufflepuff boy.

I have absolutely no memory of the events that unfolded after I literally started seeing stars. Not Wrackspurts. Did he perhaps carry me to the Hospital Wing? I have no answers and this isn’t exactly the kind of topic I wish to broach with Madam Pomfrey. My throat dries up at the thought of him struggling to bring me all the way up here and it makes me actively consider a transfer to Beauxbatons - if that is indeed possible. Because this cannot be happening right now! Sixth year has been quiet and I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much. 

I don’t know if the Hufflepuff boy will keep it down for me. Will he tell his friends about it? Will I become the talk of the town even before school resumes? Will he keep it to himself if I cut a deal with him? I don’t mind helping him out with schoolwork or something.

My delirious train of thought is interrupted by three rhythmic knocks on the slightly ajar double door.

It’s him.

He’s standing in the doorway, twiddling a rectangular purple box in his hands, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. Does he expect me to invite him in? What’s the protocol? Smoothing out the wrinkles in my blanket, I sit up slightly and crane my neck to find Madam Pomfrey who seems to be in her Office. Pursing my lips into an awkward smile, I turn to look at him and shrug noncommittally. He takes it as his cue to enter.

“This is for you.” He says in a low mellifluous voice which tastes like honeyed milk and gingerly places the box at the edge of my bed. Caramel Cobwebs. My favourite! He finds a seat at the edge of the other end of my bed.

“Thanks, you didn’t have to...and thank you for everything. I -”

His deep brown eyes suddenly meet mine and I lose all sense of speech.

“It was Hagrid who brought you here”, he says nonchalantly, drumming his fingers on his knees while allowing his large eyes to survey the sterile, sprawling infirmary.

Then why is he here?

“Aren’t you missing lunch?” I ask, unwrapping the box and offering the constellate of bite sized confectionery to him. “I’m not too hungry”, he says, guzzling down a few anyway. A soft smile touches the corners of his mouth. 

Silence echoes in the Hospital Wing, save for our muted nibbling. It’s soothing in its sense of comfort as neither of us is particularly chatty. And that’s just as gratifying as the sweet treats.

“Looks like we have company!” The stern but kind Matron swooshes out of her office, scrutinizing the boy from top to bottom, making him shift uncomfortably in his seat. She’s never been too fond of visitors. I remember the day I tagged along with Chen last year to visit his human banshee of a friend - Baekhyun. 

A doxy had apparently sunk it’s double row sharp front teeth into his arm, injecting him with its venom. His dense idea was to experiment with doxy venom to appear ill just so that he could cut a couple of lessons with his dimwitted oaf - Chanyeol. While the latter went unscathed and even managed to extract an ounce of venom out of the doxy (cute fairies he liked to call them), the human banshee had to be brought into the Hospital Wing to be administered the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. I only visited the boy who cackles like a goose to get a little look-see of what doxy venom could do to a person. But to my absolute dismay, he looked... peachy, with an annoying boxy grin plastered across his face. The Matron shooed Chen, me and the big oaf out in a matter of minutes. It’s not that I blame her. I would’ve probably done the same in view of the racket that ensued amidst their boisterous conversation.

Madam Pomfrey brings out a small vial of brown liquid and applies a few drops of it on my elbow. I hadn’t noticed the nasty wound my fall had left on it, up until then. A greenish smoke billows upward and it quickly clears out to make the wound look several days old and new skin stretches over what had been a deep cut.

“Dittany!” The Hufflepuff boy and I say in unison.

“Well done! 5 points each to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw!” Madam Pomfrey jokes as she peers over her spectacles and her gaze flits between him and me. I catch his heart shaped smile again. And for some reason, makes my stomach contract and my heart go into a somersault. Or maybe it’s the effect whatever Madam Pomfrey’s got me under.

The Matron raises her wand and points it at the table adjoining my bed. A large plate of sandwiches, two silver goblets and a jug of a cold beverage appear with a pop.

It's honeyed milk. 

She retracts into her office without pressing on him to leave and for that I am grateful. We share sandwiches in silence as a mildly bitter citrus aroma of Dittany wafts through the space between us. The plate endlessly refills itself but we’re both satiated by the third fill.

“I’m Kyungsoo, by the way. Sixth year.” He says in his dulcet tone and I take a huge gulp of the sweet nectar out of the goblet.

***

Madam Pomfrey sets me free with not one but two warnings. Avoid slippery outdoors if you’d like to enjoy the Christmas feast and Don’t count your owls before they are delivered. I’ll admit the second one is a bit difficult to stomach since I had my eyes trained on the door for the better part of the morning. It comes in fine print at the bottom of the letter of acceptance - steer clear of parent-less weirdos who believe in Divination and Nargles. Of course the sweet and quiet Kyungsoo received the same letter. 

After having sent Hagrid a Christmas greeting via an owl, I head over to the library. Its musty fragrance clears my mind off trivial sentiments. Sixth year is no child’s play and I need to read up on Apparition to avoid having a limb splinched especially after yesterday’s disaster. 

“Umm...HI!”, a chirpy voice startles me and I almost collapse into the Restricted Section. This voice is a little too sprightly for a deserted library and its owner looks like someone who does not belong in school during the holiday season. Her dazzling smile perfectly complements the twinkle in her eyes. She’s one of those girls but she seems nice? My puzzled expression asks her the obvious questions.

“Sorry! Professor Slughorn asked me to give this to you.” She hands me a rich parchment. It’s a letter addressed to me in the most exquisite cursive inviting me to dinner held by Professor H.E.F Slughorn.

Bleaaargh!

The girl is still here, eyes beaming with curiosity, “It’s for the Slug Club, right? What’s it all about? Well... I’ve always wondered.” Her voice trails off in an awkward giggle.

“Be my guest!”

It’ll help to have a slightly known, apparently friendly face in an obnoxious crowd.

***

I’m no stranger to the opulent ways of prestigious wizarding families but this isn’t something one would expect to see in a Professor’s office at Hogwarts. It’s barely even an office! It’s an enormous tent bathed in a dim orange of the sunset with its ceiling and walls draped in emerald hangings. The deep melody of violins drowns the frantic squeaking of house elves who are obscured by the heavy silver platters of the finest hors d'oeuvres.  

A circular dining area is set up right in the middle of the room where most of the invitees have taken their seats. There aren’t too many compared to last year. No Warlocks, no Vampires. Just a handful of students with their guests and a couple of past students - Slughorn’s proteges of course - who’ve managed to carve a name for themselves all thanks to the powerful connections he’d helped them forge through this very same Club. Or so he’d rather believe.

The tap on my shoulder strikes me with the realization that I’m still stood at the entrance. It’s my chirpy guest! The fifth year Gryffindor Prefect. One awkward small talk later, we find our seats at the ostentatious table.

Despite the grandiose, this is a rather intimate gathering. But judging by Professor Slughorn’s enthusiasm, the turnout is certainly not off-putting to him. He drones on about his overachieving handpicked students and I let my mind wander into the distance while Miss Prefect is certainly taken by the charms of this first-class motley. Well, at least someone’s liking it here.

“Kyungsoo, m’boy!” Slughorn jumps mid-feast at the sight of the newest entrant to this coalition, almost causing me to choke on my roast duck, “Welcome, welcome!” 

At a gesture from Slughorn, he sits down in the empty chair next to me and mutters a velvety ‘hullo’ in my direction and I’ve suddenly lost my appetite thanks to the butterflies in my stomach. He’s dressed casually in blue denims and a beige knit sweater yet he’s shining brighter than Sirius among all these boys in their finest ensembles.

“This young man is the only sixth year I’ve ever seen who’s managed to concoct the Draught of Living Death”, he takes a dramatic pause to peer at his guests over his spectacles before meeting my eyes, “flawlessly!”

Almost everyone at the table acknowledges Kyungsoo with a smile or a slight nod, save for a few overtly arrogant Purebloods who merely grunt in response or completely ignore his accomplishment. I, on the other hand, have my eyes trained on the roast duck to keep my erratic heartbeat in check.

Slughorn gears up for another act, “So tell us, Mister Doh, what exactly does your family do in the Muggle world?” His smile is cold, unwelcoming.

“My Mum is a chef, Professor...my parents own a restaurant.” Kyungsoo answers.

Slughorn contemplates on his answer for a while with a ‘hmm’, “A Muggle-born, eh?”, he lifts an eyebrow, “But the fumes from his cauldron almost lulled this old man into a deep slumber”, he chortles, wagging a sausage like finger, only to receive cold silence in response from everyone else except one invitee.

The feline eyed man laughs the loudest at Slughorn’s pathetic joke. One might think it’s probably out of sympathy. But it’s not. He seems to have actually found that funny.

Slughorn introduces him as Minseok Kim and goes on to sing praises about this former student of his. Slytherin. Excellent potioneer. One of the youngest registered animagi. 

His animagus is a cat. 

Minseok interrupts Slughorn’s discourse with an uncomfortable laugh showcasing his wide gummy grin, “You give me too much credit, Professor!”

“You’ve made me proud, my son! So tell us how your career as a Magizoologist is treating you? Well, I hope? Your uncle Soo Man Lee, a notable Warlock and a dear friend of mine, wrote to me saying that you happened to cross paths with an obscurus during one of your recent travels! That must have been...” Professor Slughorn shakes his head in horror and awe as his voice tails away.

“It’s certainly a story for a different occasion, Professor. Although, it happens to be one of my most memorable experiences.” Something about Minseok’s discomfit demeanour tells me he’d rather have a tête-à-tête with the obscurus than with Professor Slughorn. I take an instant liking to this man. 

“Minseok, we happen to have an aspiring Magizoologist in our company”, I loathe the nickname. It’s a garb. It’s a lie. But the conversation seamlessly steers towards me as a dozen pairs of eyes follow Professor Slughorn’s snivelling gaze. Clearing my throat, I say to Minseok, “I’m delighted to meet you - ”

“My dear, if I may ask and I hope you won’t mind”, Professor Slughorn interrupts me, per usual. Kyungsoo lets out a barely audible annoyed grunt and I hold my breath in anticipation of what he’s about to say next. Slughorn has a knack for broaching treacherous territories with utmost eloquence. I didn’t think it was possible for me to despise this gathering any more than I already do. I know where he’s going. I know what he’s going to say next. He’s going to play the Devil’s (Gran’s) Advocate. 

This is not a party. It’s an intervention which serves as an offhanded reminder of my parents’ gruesome deaths.

“You come from a lineage of Aurors par excellence. Your grandparents with whom I had the great fortune of exchanging notes and secrets in these very same classrooms. Your parents…. a tremendous loss to our world…” 

At this point, I’ve lost Professor Slughorn. 

He’s testing me again to see if I have any of my parents’ flair. I do not. Magizoologist is just a veil that conceals my seemingly purposeless life. I’m not sure what I want to be. Or who I want to be. If there’s one thing I know it’s that I don’t want to end up like my parents. Neither am I brave nor am I self sacrificial. Their deaths, I’ve come to terms with. It’s the torture they went through that keeps me up most nights - the unimaginable pain of the Cruciatus Curse before they were engulfed in blinding green light. My throat seizes up and I chew on the insides of my cheeks to feel pain that’s more superficial.

My sweaty palms clutch at the hem of my silk lilac dress. I feel hesitant fingers gently graze the back of my left hand, steadying the tremble. Judging by my lack of protest, Kyungsoo’s grip around my hand courageously strengthens. 

In subliminal comfort. 

I don’t feel cornered anymore.

.

.

.

KYUNGSOO

Oh I shouldn’t have. 

OH BOY I SHOULD NOT HAVE!

I’m not a pervert. In my defense her hand was right there! Trembling. Astray. Seeking shelter.

Asking to be held.

She didn’t say a word to me after that ridiculous party. I couldn’t muster the courage to say anything to her, either. What could I have said? I’m sorry? That would’ve been dishonest. I wasn’t sorry about it at all. Are you alright? I didn’t want her to feel any more uncomfortable than she already did. So I left it at that. Like I always do. 

Because I’m a coward. 

She swooped out with her friend as soon as the snoozefest was over, leaving her food completely untouched. In fact, I didn’t catch her taking a bite out of anything ever since I arrived. Her slender fingers were gracefully wrapped around a silver goblet the entire time.

It’s always been like that with her. She always needs something or the other to physically hold on to. The straps of her bag, books, remembralls, whatever she can find. I notice these little things about her. I always have. But to her I’m only a face in the crowd. The very same crowd she fights shy of. I don’t blame her. It is quite rare for pretty girls to notice me. 

And she’s ethereal.

Year One

My heart was hammering in my chest as I was ridiculously close to missing the Hogwarts Express. Partially because the oddly named Platform was nowhere to be found and I was starting to think of the entire thing as an elaborate prank. And when we did end up finding the way to the Platform by following a snooty wizarding couple who seemed to be seeing their daughter off, I quite frankly lost my mind at the prospect of having to run through a solid wall to get to it.

I said a final word of my goodbye to my teary-eyed mother.

Earlier in the day, her theatrical sobfest went on for hours after she progressed from outright denial and came to terms with the fact that witches and wizards do exist and that her only son is in fact a wizard. He wasn’t going to take over his parents’ restaurant business like she’d always hoped he would. Honestly, at this point he’s not entirely sure what his future beholds but he’s a wizard and is indeed very happy about it.

But I didn’t dare say this to her. 

I pretended to be upset about having to practically move out at the age of eleven. In all honesty, I was mildly upset but far more excited about this school I’d, obviously, never heard of before the Letter arrived - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

But it wasn’t long before all of my bubbling excitement was reduced to a pile of rubbish.

I had lost my little pouch of wizard money which I thought I'd carefully tucked into the back pocket of my jeans only to find out about it seconds prior to having to pay for the strange but oddly tempting treats. I felt myself shrink under the kind old lady’s sympathetic gaze as I put my little confectionery treasure back to where it belonged. On the top of her trolley. Suddenly, the embarrassing rumble of my stomach was drowned by a welcome jingle of coins.

The second year boy in my compartment - who later introduced himself as Baekhyun Byun - paid for the treats instead. I didn’t like him at first since he had a permanent smile plastered across his face, was giggly and extremely chatty. He’d told me all kinds of sorting stories which made me want to take the same train back home. I discovered his annoyingly loud chewing habits while sharing a stack of Cauldron Cakes with him. But I guess a happy stomach makes one truly tolerant.

We tried to offer Pumpkin Pasties to the girl in our compartment who had her face buried in a book right since the moment she boarded. Baekhyun even tried to strike up a conversation with her, multiple times, but to no avail. She’d only respond in nods and slight smiles.

After a point, we gave up. There’s no cure to snobbery.

There was an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach even after having annihilated five Chocolate Frogs, a dozen Liquorice Wands, six Pumpkin Pasties and two Cauldron Cakes. It wasn't even the first day yet and I’d lost ten Galleons in wizarding money which equalled fifty Pounds in muggle money which equalled two meals at our restaurant.

The rain thickened as the train sped further north. Baekhyun pulled on his long black robe, gave me all of his Chocolate Frog cards and scurried ahead with his trunk leaving me alone with the oddball. We were nearly there.

“Here”, she said, thrusting a heavy, knotted pink cloth in my hands before exiting the compartment in a rush.

It was five Galleons neatly wrapped in a cloth that smelled exactly like the “farewell” cake Mum baked me. 

Vanilla.

***

We didn’t have to wrestle a troll or turn a fat rat yellow for the Sorting Ceremony like Baekhyun said we’d have to.

“RAVENCLAW!” the Hat bellowed and the girl from the Hogwarts Express found her place amidst the brains at Hogwarts (as Baekhyun liked to call them) and that didn’t leave me surprised at all.

When the strict witch called out my name I almost stumbled upon a step on my way up to the wooden stool. For no particular reason the word “Ravenclaw” rolled off my tongue and the Hat contemplated, “Intelligent and hard-working, eh? Hmm….where should I place you...I see. I see! HUFFLEPUFF!”

The table next to Ravenclaw cheered me on as a ghost, the Fat Friar, swooshed past me in what was supposed to be a bone chilling embrace. I caught her eyes and she gave me a little wave.

Ravenclaw...at least I knew where to find her. I’ll return her money but not the piece of cloth.

It is a reminder of home.

Year Two

Am I invisible to her?

Every time I’ve so much as smiled at her she’s returned it with an unreadable expression like that lady in the fake painting at our restaurant. If I approach her and she doesn’t recognize me, I’ll be making a complete ass out of myself. Anyway, she probably thinks I’m not good enough to be seen around with but third-year Chen is. People say she belongs to one of the oldest wizarding families and she sure does act like royalty. I guess, five Galleons to her is nothing but a drop in the ocean.

***

While Professor Sprout thinks I’m the next Tilden Toots - a celebrity Herbologist and Potioneer, Professor Snape’s way of expressing his satisfaction with my abilities in Potions was with a scowl and a barely audible “five points to Hufflepuff.”

Most of the students think of Potions as a lot of hard work but to me, it’s really not. I don’t entirely blame them. The classes are held in a dungeon and the Potions Master looms over us with a murderous intent but if you ignore all of that it’s just intricacies of timing and stirring techniques.

The Hair Raising potion was disgusting to concoct especially since one of the key ingredients was rat tails and three counter clockwise stirs left the cauldron with a sickening green residue causing the entire dungeon to smell like a dead rat.

I must admit, Hogwarts is one weird school. What on earth would I need this potion for?

Year Three

Whenever I’ve tried to avoid the joined at the hips duo Baekhyun and Chanyeol, I’ve found myself in their ear splitting company. By now, I’ve resigned to my fate. My fellow Hufflepuff Yoongi isn’t up for much these days. To be honest, he’s always liked to stick to the confines of the Hufflepuff dorm and that’s kind of a downer.

So I spend almost all of my free time in the company of the Perpetually In Detention duo and their Ravenclaw friend Chen. And I realise that I can never be Chen. Chen is perfect in every way. He’s polite, he’s intelligent, and at such a young age he’s got his life planned out. He wants to work for the Ministry of Magic. Which, I believe, is a cakewalk for the likes of him. He’s also kinda good looking. While we’re all struggling with embarrassing bulk sticking out of odd places and less than appealing skin, he could very well replace Gilderoy Lockhart for the next issue of Witch Weekly.

***

When I saw her head toward Gladrags Wizardwear, fingers clutched at a baggie of Caramel Cobwebs, I feigned untied shoelaces as Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Chen made their way into The Three Broomsticks. Suddenly, a jet of purple light shot in her direction and a sound of girls giggling reached my ears. She stood frozen in the middle of the street, face buried in hands and with a flick of my wand I unbound her legs. Misty eyed, she hesitantly looked over her shoulder for a fleeting moment before hurrying into the safer confines of the shop as though nothing had happened.

This was our first ever trip to Hogsmeade and I thought J. Pippin's Potions worth the detour.

Rat tails. Porcupine quills. Billywig stings.

The Hair Raising potion had its benefits, after all. 

A few drops of it in their pumpkin juice and not a single soul suspected the innocent looking, third-year Hufflepuff boy.

Year Four

Hagrid seemed quite proud of his crate full of Blast-Ended Skrewts. They were cuddly creatures, very useful and made for exceptional pets. 

If you looked at them with Hagrid’s beady brown, affectionate eyes.

Everyone in class was visibly disturbed at the sight of them. Yoongi was quite close to disappearing into the Forbidden Forest. But that’s just him - slimy, foul smelling, shell-less lobsters or not. I wouldn’t be surprised if he chose, out of the blue, to live as a hermit in the company of centaurs. Not sure if he’s aware that they’re averse to humans.

Smiling, she took two graceful steps towards the crate as the rest of us took two steps back. Then four, then six as her waist length hair rippled down her shoulders and sunlight bounced off the silver trinkets in her ears. Perhaps motivated by her deep affection for Hagrid and anything non-human, she dipped a piece of frog liver to tempt the freshly hatched Skrewts.

It was pointless. Skrewts don’t have mouths. Mine is carefully locked away in a little pen under my bed. Honestly, I don’t care whether it survives the semester or not. 

Anyway, she ended up earning a roaring applause from Hagrid and ten points for Ravenclaw.

I found myself following her to the hideous crate like my legs had a mind of their own while Yoongi gaped at me in horror. I don’t know what struck me but I’m pretty sure that I don’t love Hagrid enough to get stung by an ugly lobster. 

But she had her eyes lovingly trained on the Skrewts the entire time and my valiant battle against a six inch burning, biting and stinging hybrid went completely unnoticed by her. 

Would I have to transfigure into an ugly Skrewt to get her attention? Or gulp down a vial of Polyjuice Potion to look like Chen? 

I’d still lack his charm.

Year Five

How Chanyeol and Baekhyun managed to advance to the sixth year is anyone’s guess, really. 

Because at this point I wish I had a Time Turner. Twenty four hours in a day are not enough for what the O.W.L.s demand. I’ve got Potions, Arithmancy, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, History of Magic and Defence Against The Dark Arts. 

And Divination is entirely her fault.

There’s one thing, though, that Trelawney’s “Inner Eye” was right about - Everything is not as bad as it seems, my dear. It’s true. Professor Slughorn isn’t half as bad as Professor Snape. Although he’s a little vain and self-serving, I have a better shot at earning an O in Potions with him than I could have ever had with Snape. Where Snape would dismiss my nearly perfect brews with a grunt, I manage to earn some real points for Hufflepuff with Slughorn.

Professor Sprout, ever so confident in my abilities, had laughed away my Career Advice session by calling me the next Tilden Toots. Her face fell slightly when I told her that I aspired to be Tilden Toots the Potioneer and not Tilden Toots the Herbologist.

But my dreams won’t materialize if I don’t have near perfect scores in Charms and Arithmancy and these are the two subjects that have kept me away from my “happening” social life.

I’d been haunting the Hufflepuff common room with my fingers in my ears, muttering soundlessly and my dear friend Yoongi chose to “take a quick catnap for a refreshed mind” every chance he got. I haven’t seen them in a while - Baekhyun, Chanyeol, Chen and their Quidditch friends Kai and Sehun. With twelve (failed) study schedules strewn on the floor and six weeks left until the exams, I seized my copy of Defensive Magical Theory and stepped out of the dorm for some fresh air and mindless chatter.

Last I’d heard, they’d managed to earn themselves a week’s worth of detention for setting off Filibuster’s Fireworks in Filch’s office. 

What I witnessed in the corridor on my way out made me stop dead in my tracks. Chen had his arm around her shoulders as they walked along the hallway laughing and talking animatedly. This was the happiest I had ever seen her in all these years. At the sight of them, I felt a paralyzing dread seep into my consciousness. 

I hated it.

I hated to see her happy. With him. A part of me saw this coming but I could’ve never prepared myself for it and I immediately regretted leaving the unwitting confines of my Common Room. 

Seething, I went in the other direction, taking a detour for the Quidditch pitch, to find those clowns. 

With them, I could very well drift in and out of conversations. While I lacked patience for most of their rubbish and I usually brought my earmuffs along, today was different. I needed to hear something refreshing to get my mind off the horrible fragmented flashbacks of what I’d witnessed just minutes ago. It’s probably nothing and they’re just friends but the nagging rebuttal to my ‘just friends’ argument is making me restless.

To my absolute horror, Chen breezed into the pitch with an annoying grin on his face, cheeks flushed. I felt the knot in my stomach tighten.

“Guys! I asked her out and she said yes!” He announced to the world in his usual thunderous scream invoking a deafening response from the rest of them. Slamming my copy of Defensive Magical Theory shut, I rushed to the common room, ignoring Kai calling out for me.

Year Six

Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be... severe.

And rewarded, I was. With 6 Os, 2 Es (Arithmancy and Defence Against the Dark Arts) and 1 A (Divination). Yoongi had managed to scrape through with a decent O.W.Ls score as well. And “Chen’s girlfriend” had topped the year, per usual. With 8 O’s and 1 E in Defence Against The Dark Arts, having messed up one counter jinx in the practicals.  She’s strangely under confident when it comes to this subject.

My house-elf friend Winky smuggled in a congratulatory vanilla cake - a Muggle recipe I’d helped her recreate.

***

So turns out “Chen’s girlfriend” isn’t Chen’s girlfriend. 

I mean, Chen has a girlfriend but it’s not the girl from the Hogwarts Express. It’s the Ravenclaw Head Girl. Because I spent nearly half a year sulking, slogging away in the library, feeling betrayed for no particular reason, despite my well above average O.W.Ls score I felt like a complete idiot.

The bearer of good news was Chanyeol Park.

Who enraged me and made me want to kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt on its non-existent mouth at the same time with, “Of course he’s not dating that Ravenclaw oddball. He’s dating the Ravenclaw Head Girl.”

Smacking him on the head with my copy of Advanced Potion Making, I decided to spend the upcoming Christmas at school. 

It’s now or never.

***

She’s SUCH an idiot!

A freezing, injured, drenched, clumsy idiot. 

A Bowtruckle whirred past me into the Forbidden Forest as I rushed to help her off the ground. Tergeo, I muttered to siphon the blood off her elbow and hoisted her up not long before she collapsed into my arms.

She’s a cute idiot whose pain is… my gain.

.

.

.

“Why aren’t you home for the holidays?”

Howling, a chilly breeze engulfs us but the panoramic view of the landscape from the Wooden Bridge is well worth it. As is the mildly attractive Hufflepuff boy who’d asked, very shyly, if he could see me here.

“My parents are always busy with the restaurant during the holidays, anyway. Thought I’d use this time to prepare better in advance for N.E.W.T.s”, says a red-nosed, shivering Kyungsoo.

He’s ambitious as he is kind. “So, are you?”

“Hmm?”

“Preparing for... N.E.W.T.s?”

“No. Something’s kept me busy.” An imperceptible smile tugs at his lips and I find myself unconsciously mirroring him. It’s freezing out here but my cheeks are ablaze.

“What has?” My tone is unwavering but his rich pause has me dreading as well as anticipating the answer.

“The Patronus Charm”, he says, “All I can manage is formless silver vapour.”

Oh.

“I could help if you like.” I turn to face him to find his confused expression uncoil into a toasty smile.

“You can conjure an actual corporeal Patronus?” His excitable voice is not as deep as his regular talking voice but it’s melodic anyway.

Nodding, I say, “Let’s go.” 

Kyungsoo’s eyes aren’t exactly trusting. I’ve brought him to the seventh floor and we’re gawking at a tapestry of trolls ridiculously bent in a plier. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either. But Hogwarts is an ancient castle and I’ve spent a good amount of time recceing it’s rooms, hallways, and everything in between. Yet, I discover something new, every time. 

Last year, I discovered this - The Room of Requirement - or as Meady likes to call it - the Come and Go Room.

“Okay, so we’re going to walk past the area of this door, thrice, thinking clearly of what we need.” Pointing at the wall opposite the funny tapestry, I say to Kyungsoo but a look of sheer confusion mixed with worry clouds his face.

“We’re going to think of a large, dingy classroom where we can have our lessons without anyone disturbing us.”

His expression is short of saying, ‘You’re crazy. Goodbye.’ Despite that, he valiantly follows my instruction.

After the third pass we’re in a spacious classroom completely devoid of any furniture, save for two desks.

“Ahhh”, hands on hips, he gapes in surprise surveying the dimly lit room, “but...we could’ve practised anywhere. Why here?”

“For the effect?” My fingers clutch at the edge of the desk as a knot tightens in my stomach and I find myself hoping that he stays.

His ha-ha-ha echoes in the room and his voice is at it’s high pitch again, “Shall we?”

Nodding, I take the centre of the class, “So the incantation is ‘Expecto Patronum’”

“Of that, I am aware.”

“Great now concentrate hard on a happy memory. I know it’s going to be tough without an actual Dementor or even a Boggart to practise on. But let’s give it a try, alright? Professor Flitwick taught me using a Boggart last year. I didn’t leave him alo -- sorry I’m rambling. Okay, happy memory... now...go!”

Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes shut and his face screws up in concentration. With a swish of his wand he stutters, “Ex-expecto Patronus!”

Nothing except peals of laughter echo in the room.

“Lets go again. Together now.” I say patting his shoulder.

Signalling each other with a nod we try again, “Expecto Patronum!”

A lynx rises out the end of my wand, trotting across the room before diffusing into nothingness. While Kyungsoo manages to issue a not so tangible cloud of silver.

A few tries later, he manifests something visibly stronger but he’s not quite there yet. And we’re both exhausted. I fish for a Chocolate Frog in the pockets of my cardigan and hand it to him.

“This charm is ridiculously advanced! How about we try again after Christmas?” Leaning on one of the desks, he offers dejectedly, nibbling at the Frog’s head.

I gladly accept it.

***

Owing to the small number of students that have stayed back this year, the House tables have been put aside and a single table has been set up for the Christmas feast. As if it were the most natural thing to do in the world, Kyungsoo comes and sits next to me. I hope he doesn’t hold my hand like he did during Slughorn’s party or maybe I hope that he does. I hope we do get to hold hands often and discuss what happened at the party. But we’re both great at pretending that nothing unusual did. The Gryffindor Prefect is somewhere on the other end of the table, chatting to a fellow Gryffindor. And the spread, as always, is sumptuous. 

Digging into a delectable roast turkey I ask Kyungsoo, “What’s Christmas like in the Muggle world?”

“Isn’t half as exciting as it is here. For starters, we have no Wizard Crackers. Or silver Sickles hidden within puddings.” He says toying with the cardboard tube moments before it went off like a canon, covering him in a cloud of blue smoke. A flurry of white mice scamper down his legs and scurry out of the Great Hall.

His mouth drops, inviting a roar of laughter from the rest of the table and he chooses to steer clear of the Crackers for the rest of the Feast.

He insists on dropping me off to the Ravenclaw Common Room, “I’ll see you again tomorrow? Six in the evening, the Room of Requirement?”

It’s a date?

***

Today’s class wasn’t nearly as bad as the previous one but God knows Kyungsoo’s in a dire need of practise.

We sit on the floor after two scarcely productive hours with our stash of Chocolate Frogs pooled in the space between us.

“Here’s something I don’t get about Muggleborns. How are your parents okay with sending their children away to an entirely different world? Doesn’t matter what Professor Dumbledore has to say, I refuse to believe Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world. We have moving staircases, a murderous tree, Quidditch, and Filch!”

His laugh reverberates in the empty classroom, “It’s not much of a trade off, really. The Muggle world has its own set of issues.” He unwraps a Chocolate Frog and offers it to me, “You live with your grandmother, right?”

“My fierce, retired Auror, grandmother. Yes. And you?”

“With my parents. I’m an only child. And you’re right. My mother wasn’t very keen on sending me away but she couldn’t risk their restaurant being reduced to a pile of ash every time I threw a temper tantrum.”

“You don’t look like the temper tantrum sort.”

“Ah you underestimate me.” He chuckles, “so the holidays end soon and I don’t have a Patronus which means our classes will have to continue. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Very much”, I nod but an upsetting finality pulls at me.

“Is there anything...you’d like to do on the last day of the holidays?” He fixes his gaze on my feet.

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Do you want to...well I was thinking if...I need to procure some Wolfsbane from the Forbidden Forest would you like to come with?”

“Are you daft? Do you have any idea what sorts of -”

“Creatures dwell in the Forest? Yeah, I’ve been there, multiple times.”

“And you haven’t been caught? Mauled? Battered?”

He sighs, “Unfortunately, not once.”

Meeting his unflinching gaze I welcome my impending doom, “Okay...maybe I’ll end up finding Twiggles in one of those Wiggentrees but don’t abandon me if Werewolves come for us.”

***

I guess there’s a first time for everything. But it’s my first time flouting a rule and getting caught. My adventurous friend from Hufflepuff seems absolutely unperturbed by the ghastly smile that’s spread across Filch’s face. And anything that makes Filch this happy can’t be good news. Kyungsoo shoves the bunch of Wolfsbane down the pocket of his jeans and I just stand there as an unwitting accomplice to his dumbassery. To my dumbassery. I should’ve never agreed to this. I didn’t even have any luck with Twiggles. But then again Bowtruckles are master camouflagers. What was I expecting?

“Follow me”, the sadistic old man wheezes and my legs feel bound by shackles. Kyungsoo tugs at my arm and teary eyed, I slowly shake my head. He laughs mouthing, ‘It’s nothing.’ Maybe it’s nothing to him considering the company he keeps. What if I get expelled? Where will I go? It’ll be enough reason for Gran to disown me but this bespectacled charming boy doesn’t have a lot to lose now, does he? He can waltz back into his Muggle world and work in his ‘restaurant’. Of course he’s an exceptional cook if he trades recipes with freaking house-elves! I can’t end up having a life worse than squibs. Boys are trouble unless they’re Chen. I literally never should’ve. What of this was a trap all along? I’m SUCH a fool!

I find myself in the part of the vast echoing Entrance Hall I’ve deliberately avoided in all these years. It’s foul smelling, really dull and a cat menacingly meows at us while curling around her Master’s feet. 

Room 234-00. Filch’s office.

Coughing, the caretaker points at the chains and manacles that are hung from the ceiling, ��I keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re needed. The Forbidden Forest, eh? Brave enough for Acromantulas and Werewolves, are we?” His face is barely inches away from Kyungsoo’s and I feel a sudden pump of adrenaline, “Sir, please, it was a mistake. We promise to never venture into the Forest again. We promise to never venture out of our own dormitories again. Please, please just let us go!”

Filch is taken aback by my plea and Kyungsoo has pursed his lips, holding in a laugh and I feel stupid.

With the sound of a crack, Filch’s equipment of torture comes crashing to the floor. Mrs Norris’ tail shoots up in fear and a raucous laugh echoes in the room souring Filch’s mood, “PEEVES!”

“Nasty Filch! Leave the luuuuurve birds alone! Leave them alone! Loony woony filthy Filch!” An invisible Peeves’ annoying cackle resounds before ceasing with a deafening crack. 

Filch is boiling in rage. I tilt my head to look at the slightly experienced in disciplinary matters Kyungsoo and judging by his sullen expression, we’ve had it.

.

.

.

Does he think that I somehow jinxed his great expedition to the Forest? Because it’s been two days since the start of semester and there’s no sign of Kyungsoo. Neither in the Great Hall, nor in the classes I share with Hufflepuff. Is he avoiding me now that his friends are back? The lump in my throat aches.

“Oww!” 

Chen greets me with a smack of a book on my head, “I MISSED YOU, GOBLIN!”

I’ll never get used to Chen’s incessant need to announce everything to the world to get his point across but seeing him makes me realise just how much I’d missed him, too. Despite his dig at my height and an underhanded compliment to my brain. He slumps into the chair next to me, activating his ability to speak like a banshee. Not very different from his white haired Gryffindor friend. 

“So tell me. How was Christmas? Did you get the set of Wizard Chess I sent you? We should play sometime. Thanks for the Floo Connection, by the way! It was really thoughtful of you and I love it! My darling loved it a lot, too but I had a tough time explaining it to my folks. So how was Christmas?”

I wait patiently for my closest friend in school to finish babbling before telling him what I think he’d like to hear about my little adventures. Or the information Kyungsoo would rather have me share. The nagging feeling that he’s been avoiding me weighs me down like a rock. 

 “So you broke your leg, told Slughorn off and earned yourself Detention with a Hufflepuff boy who happened to be in the Forest at the same time as you. All of this in a matter of two weeks? Wait, why were you in the Forest again?” Chen is amused but also a little suspicious.

“I told you! I was bored. I went looking for the Bowtruckle!” I argue, needlessly.

“Bored? Didn’t you have to read up on Apparition? Also, you of all the people should know how elusive Bowtruckles are, Miss Magizoologist!” I cringe at the nickname. “And who is this Hufflepuff boy?” I wouldn’t be surprised if Chen were a Legilimens.

Letting out an exasperated sigh I answer, “Some Kwangsoo something?”

“Glasses? Kinda short? Squints a lot? Brooding?”

“So you know him, Mister Tall Guy?” I ask, inviting another smack on my head.

“Yes, through Baekhyun. I mean, haven’t you seen him with us? His name is Kyungsoo, by the way.” Chen’s not particularly suspicious now which bolsters my confidence to spew rubbish.

“No I haven’t. It’s probably because I can hear you guys before I can see you and I prefer not to violate my eyes like I do my ears when I’m around any of you. I hope this answers your question.” I think it was a bit much but Chen breaks into a fit of laughter.

“Then you’ve probably not heard him, either. He isn’t a lot like us.” He contemplates, “but don’t you look around in class? You haven’t ever noticed him before? He’s in the same year as you! You’re ridiculous!”

Of course I’ve noticed him. 

Every time he’s tried to talk to me, return my money, earned points for his house or even a sneer from Snape. Every time Madam Pomfrey has cooed at him. Even when he braved feeding a Skrewt. I’ve seen him in the hallways, in classes, in the Great Hall. 

But to know someone is to invite heartache and I’ve had my fair share of it.

“You mean he isn’t noisy like the rest of you. And no I haven’t. It’s probably because he’s not as attractive as a Merperson or as lithe as a Basilisk.” I lie. He’s not anything like the magical creatures I’ve studied about. He is a human. And humans are too tricky for my liking. Two weeks with him, two days without him and I seem to have lost my marbles. 

Guess, I am pathetic if not ridiculous.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him around either”, Jongdae ponders.

***

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Maybe it was too direct but I need to get this weight off my chest. I can’t spend every Saturday until the end of term with him in close quarters, clearing out Filch’s old files (the Muggle way) with animosity looming between us. Peeves is enough trouble with his water bombs already. And Kyungsoo’s silent treatment is simply too much. 

He brings me Caramel Cobwebs, holds my hand and refuses to talk about it, insists on being tutored, spends Christmas with me, lands me in Detention and starts avoiding me as soon as his friends are back.

“I caused you trouble and you seemed so disturbed by it. I’m sorry. I’ve not been avoiding you...I just thought maybe you wouldn’t like to see me again.” Mumbles Kyungsoo, dropping Filch’s File Number 27 on the floor, leaving a mess of loose, dusty papers.

‘Butterfingers’ here isn’t right at all. I’ve been dying to see him.

I help him clear the mess by re-filing the records of the 27th file in alphabetical order. 

“I’m not mad at you. I was a tad bit worried, that’s all. This is my first time being...punished and none of this is your fault. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that.”

His little smile and an understanding nod makes my heart flutter. Snapping out of it, I read out an amusing record from a random file, “at least we’re not pickling rat brains in the dungeons.” 

His eyes grow wide in horror, “What?”

“Sehun Oh and Kai Kim for bewitching snowballs to hit Professor Snape!” I summarise.

Kyungsoo guffaws, “Yes! This was last year. Baekhyun had dared them to it and those idiots thought Snape wouldn’t notice. They ended up reeking of dead rats for two weeks after that. Nobody would go near them! Not even Baekhyun.”

I put the file back with an ‘ahh’, “So Kai Kim, Sehun Oh, Baekhyun Byun are your friends right? And Chen, too?”

“Yeah, Chen and Chanyeol Park. Why?”

Of course, the Great Oaf.

“Nothing, you’re quite different from them.”

“How so?” Resting his chin in his hand, Kyungsoo inquires and avoiding his eyes I reply, “Well, you’re not very noisy or mischievous?”

He chuckles, “I’m not noisy that’s true. But I literally took you to the Forbidden Forest and it’s the reason why we’re here today sifting through these records. Will you still say that I’m not mischievous, Miss Ravenclaw?”

“I take back my words, Mister Hufflepuff”, I need to get away from this sweet talker, “Now let’s look for more, shall we? Filch certainly has your friends’ adventures chronicled in these files.”

“We’ll probably find something on Chen, too.” He says quietly.

“No wayyy! Chen’s perfect.” I protest.

He throws a file onto the desk, creating a cloud of dust, “What if we do end up finding something about him here, in these records? Then what?”

“Then I’ll….do whatever you ask!” 

Why! Why?

“It’s a deal!”

***

Kyungsoo and I have been seeing each other fortnightly for the sake of Dementors. Let’s just say if he were required to actually fight one off today, he’d end up having his soul sucked out. Does the boy have no solid happy memory or what? Or maybe I’m just a terrible guide.

In class, we’re cordial. But somewhat distracted.

We spend all of our Saturdays together. Turns out he’s a couple of weeks older than me which means we both qualify for  Apparition Lessons. The lessons are scheduled for Saturday mornings and we spend the rest of the day in Detention.

The first lesson was...quite unforgettable. 

For Kyungsoo, me and whoever was witness to our idiocy. Professor Flitwick positioned Ravenclaws into a line as did Professor Sprout with Hufflepuff which had Kyungsoo and me standing next to each other with the requisite distance of five feet between us. The Instructor from the Ministry waved his wand and old-fashioned wooden hoops appeared on the floor in front of us.

“Destination. Determination. Deliberation!” The man who was a white wispy version of humans, squeaked.

“Concentrate upon the destination now. Which is within the hoop. Then focus on your determination to occupy the visualized space. And when I give a command, on three, turn on your spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation!”

Kyungsoo gave me one furtive glance and I lost all sense of Destination and Determination.

“On my command….one….”

I spun on the spot, lost my balance and fell over and Kyungsoo crash landed into my wooden hoop. With our Professors’ eyes on us, I felt myself melt into a puddle of embarrassment.

The inexplicable tension crowding the office during Detention that day left hardly any room for conversation. Which was kind of okay considering the ground we covered with Filch’s wretched files.

Although, the next lesson found us positioned at the two opposite ends of our respective House lines by Professor Flitwick. 

Despite being in the same room, I missed Kyungsoo.

Transfiguration hasn’t been particularly eventful with Kyungsoo. With Professor McGonagall’s hawk-like eyes on us, we don’t dare to so much as shoot a glance in each other’s direction. 

But last week was different.

In a lesson that included conjuring a flock of birds out of our wands, the entire class managed a few feathers, some gross mutations, and severed heads. Everyone except Kyungsoo. He’d succeeded in creating several twittering birds in his third try. Which was not so great for me since the little yellow chirpers zoomed in my direction and circled around my head, singing merrily. This continued even after most of the class, including Professor McGonagall, had already left. His idea of an apology for the inconvenience was flashing his heart-shaped smile. 

I guess it doesn’t take a lot for me to forgive him.

***

It’s nearing the end of the third month of the semester and there’s no dirt on Chen. 

Like I’d said, he’s perfect. We’ve found volumes on the other two, though. Chanyeol and Baekhyun. How they’ve not been expelled yet is anyone’s guess. These delinquents make my little Forest excursion look like a joke.

They’ve set off dungbombs in Snape’s dungeon, cursed each other and ended up having a slug attack right in the middle of their Astronomy practicals, got caught sneaking out of their dorms after curfew only eleven times, transfigured McGonagall’s desk into a ferret to ‘showcase their Transfiguration prowess’, set off Filibuster’s Fireworks in Filch’s office, distracted Filch by jinxing Mrs Norris with Tarantallegra - her legs spasmed wildly out of control, making her appear as though she were dancing. 

No wonder they’re the only students Peeves gets on with.

This little vault of information made Kyungsoo exceptionally happy after moping around for not having anything on Chen, yet. He’s going to use these embarrassing incidents (one of the punishments included cleaning out the bedpans in the Hospital Wing without using magic) against the two of them, he says. 

Detention and shared classes is the only time Kyungsoo and I get to see each other since sixth year is no cakewalk. 

Free periods come by few and far between and are used to keep up with the vast amount of homework we’re being set. We’re studying as though we have exams everyday and lessons themselves are far more demanding than they used to be. Especially since we’re required to use Nonverbal spells now in every lesson that requires incantation. I often catch Kyungsoo’s motley around school. Somehow, they’re everywhere but he’s hardly ever to be seen with them. Working hard towards his ambition to become a Potioneer, I suppose. I wish I were just as passionate about something.

.

.

.

Sixth year is an anomaly. 

Professor Sprout says we’re allowed to swear loudly in today’s lesson since we’re going to be dealing with one of the most dangerous plants ever - Venomous Tentacula - a green, spiky, toothsome magical plant with mobile vines that tries to grab living prey. Kyungsoo quietly stations himself next to me in the greenhouse inviting snarky sideway looks and hushed whispers from a couple of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws around us. “She’s latched on to him now”, sniggers a Ravenclaw boy and I notice Kyungsoo ears turn scarlet. 

A pair of thick gloves on, Professor Sprout takes her place behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse, “We’ll be extracting Venomous Tentacula’s essence for Professor Slughorn’s experimental Potion No 7 today. Now, who can tell me how we should proceed to extract essence out of a plant that could try to strangle you?”

Kyungsoo’s hand rose in the air like it always does during Potions and Herbology, “By using the Severing Charm, Professor.”

��Excellent. Ten points to Hufflepuff”, Professor Sprout beams at her favourite student, “We’ll use the Severing Charm but Nonverbally. Which will stun Venomous Tentacula and sever its mobile vines. Along with me, on three. One...two...”

I nearly squeal as one of the Tentacula’s sharp fangs grazes my arm. Kyungsoo notices and in a state of panic tries to stun my plant for me only to get seized and bitten by his own. “Diffindo”, I flick my wand at Kyungsoo’s plant, flailing it and flouting the nonverbal spell rule but it’s too late for any of that. The plant’s poison, although non-fatal, has started working on Kyungsoo. 

His skin turns bright purple, knocking the wind out of me.

Professor Sprout rushes him to the Hospital Wing.

***

On Professor Sprout’s special request, Filch has begrudgingly exempted Kyungsoo from this week’s Detention. I saw him for Apparition this morning and we’d both managed to, with Destination, Determination and Deliberation in mind of course, land into our own hoops. 

Kyungsoo looked perfectly fine. Which is to say the purple of his skin from yesterday has been washed over by the roses of his cheeks and the honey of his skin. Madam Pomfrey was required to keep him in only for the day as Professor Sprout was quick to act and the poison hadn’t caused much harm. I feel like a bad friend for not having visited him since lessons ended in the a.m. with Astronomy but he says he was out in a couple of hours at most. 

He’s planned to spend the rest of the day with his friends who he’d not had a chance to catch up with off lately.

By late afternoon I’d unexpectedly fallen into a state of blissful slumber on one of Filch’s old files. Coughing, I woke up engulfed by dust. I had to admit, Detention was boring without Kyungsoo and it’s honestly starting to scare me how used to I gotten to his presence, the faint scent of eucalyptus that trails after him and the ambrosial warmth that infiltrates through his seemingly tougher exterior.

But at the same time I regret misreading him. Mistrusting him or sometimes trusting him too much. He’s nothing like I thought he’d be. His simplicity is comforting but at the same time it is truly baffling. Maybe it’s okay to not give it much thought and let Jupiter do its celestial dance while I do mine by recreating damaged detention records.

#1116

>> Chen Kim

>> Lack of concentration in Charms resulting in production of a hoselike jet of water instead of a fountain from his wand, knocking Professor Flitwick flat on his face in the process

>> Lines - ‘I am a wizard, not a baboon brandishing a stick.’

>> Issued by Professor Flitwick

>> Points taken: None

I do a double take when I read the name. 

Chen! Chen? Chen in Detention? How did I never know about this? Even if it’s just lines it is still a punishment. And how did The (then) Ravenclaw Prefect Chen mess up a Charm in Professor Flitwick’s class? I must know. But Kyungsoo’s got to see this first! I quickly replicate the record on a spare parchment and shove it in my bag and with a flick of my wand, I place everything exactly where it belongs in Filch’s office. What’s he going to do about it when he finds out? Give me another detention? Bring it on!

Throwing caution to the wind I allow my feet to take me where Kyungsoo said he’d be. Swiftly descending down the staircase, I exit out the side door down the corridor off the Entrance Hall and run towards the courtyard feeling the harsh winds tugging against my skin.

It’s unusually cold for the first day of April.

Seated between Chanyeol and Baekhyun, he’s laughing away seemingly at the two lanky boys - Kai and Sehun who’ve got their wands at the ready. The courtyard is oddly vacant, save for these four rioters and Kyungsoo. 

Even Chen’s not here. 

All banter comes to an abrupt halt when Kyungsoo’s eyes meet mine, his expression solid as a rock. With a barely perceptible shake of his head he’s signalling me to walk away from here and maybe this is what it feels like being punched in the gut. Four curious pairs of eyes flit between Kyungsoo and me and I feel too numb to even get out of there. Did I make a mistake being here? Is he too embarrassed to acknowledge me in front of his friends? The frigidity of his expression is eating away at my insides. Moments of complete stillness later I sprint out of the courtyard amidst wolf whistles and peals of laughter.

Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I wipe the angry tears rolling down my cheeks and vow to never see this doe eyed pretender again.

KYUNGSOO

It’s been two weeks since the incident. 

Two whole weeks of her arriving after and leaving before me for our shared lessons. She’s even charted up a Detention routine which limits our interactions to curt nods and dismissive grunts. Needless to say, I still don’t know how to conjure a corporeal Patronus. She thinks she’s the only one I could’ve asked? Not Baekhyun. Not Chanyeol’s Slytherin friend. Just her?

So much for her big Ravenclaw brains. 

She walks around all high and mighty displaying her knack for embarrassing honesty but in the moments of truth she plays ostrich. I wasn’t trying to avoid her. I would never. But she’s a complete idiot who’d rather believe otherwise. An idiot who’ll never look into my eyes to feel what I feel. Even if she does, she’d just never accept it. It took me five and a half years to get her to talk to me. And if it takes just one misunderstanding to drive her away like that, I’m not sure if I want to try again.

.

.

.

The only two things I’ve gained out of my short lived acquaintance with Kyungsoo Doh are Detention and a new foul nickname “the girl who follows Kyungsoo around.”

I hear it everywhere I go. The Great Hall, the corridors and the Common Room isn’t very forgiving either. So all thanks to Kyungsoo, I’ve retracted into my wretched shell. I arrive late for lessons and swoop out like an owl as soon as it’s over. I spend every free period in one corner of the Library and try to avoid the Common Room as much as I can.

All these years I spent pretending like the cute, short, portly boy I met on the Hogwarts Express didn’t exist were far better than the last couple of months of letting him into my small Universe. In all honesty, I’ve started to loathe him. It takes immense self control for me to not have his pretty face eat slugs every time I cross paths every time I lay my eyes on it.

“Now, this one here….who can tell me what this is. My dear boy, Kyungsoo?” Holding a vial of liquid pearl in the air for us to see, play-acts Professor Slughorn. Another potential victim of my out-of-character slug attack.

“It’s Amortentia”, Kyungsoo’s voice reaches my ears from the far end of the dungeon. 

“It is indeed. It almost seems foolish to ask”, he says, bringing the vial to my eye level, “but I assume you could tell me what it does?”

“It’s a love potion, Professor.” I say.

“It’s not just a love potion, sir. It’s the most powerful love potion in the world.” Kyungsoo offers and I feel the heat rising up my cheeks. I hate having this volley regarding a love potion with Kyungsoo.

“Excellent! And how did you recognize it, my dear?” Slughorn directs his question to me.

“By its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen.”

“And?” His theatrics redirect to Kyungsoo.

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals.” His dulcet tone echoes in the gloomy dungeon.

“Well, well, take ten well-earned points each for Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw”, says Slughorn genially, “would you two please be kind enough to come forward?”

Kyungsoo and I take, in what it seems like, ages to be stood on either side of Slughorn, arms over our chests, looking in opposite directions.

“There is one more key characteristic --”

“It’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us”, Interrupting Slughorn, Kyungsoo and I garble.

“So to demonstrate”, Slughorn brings the vial closer to my face, “my dear?”

Consumed by the heady steam rising out of the potion, I clear my throat, “I can smell honey and...eucalyptus and….” Dittany. But I leave it at that, “That’s all Professor.”

“Very well, Mister Doh?” Slughorn quizzes.

“Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion…..Vanilla and …..Dittany.”

***

‘Evanesco!’ 

With that my last bottle of Sleekeazy vanishes in thin air.

“What are you doing up so late?” Chen’s groggy voice makes me jump but I counter, “What are you doing up so late?”

“Early. Up so early. It’s three in the morning”, yawning he waves his Charms textbook in front of my face, “Protean Charm.”

“Vanishing Spell”, I say pointing my wand at the empty table in front of us.

Chen relaxes into the chair next to mine and I let my gaze wander around the deserted Common Room. It really is a work of art encapsulated in all the blue and bronze. The stars painted over the domed ceiling, shine the brightest at this hour of the night, waltzing gracefully across the midnight blue carpet. If they were my stars, they’d wobble and fall owing to their two left feet. Could they, in the very least, give me a reason for this nagging ache in my chest?

‘Aguamenti!’

Drenched and dishevelled by a jet of cold water that shot out of Chen’s wand, I silence his raucous laugh and shower him with the choicest expletives before lifting the spell and drying myself.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR!” I demand.

“You seemed so lost I was tempted. It’s what my dad uses to wake me up when I oversleep, you know? A nice cold bucket of water.” Chen’s snicker causes me to silence him again and he continues to blather soundlessly. How is this idiot so energetic at three in the morning!

“I’m going to bed”, wearily, I get up to leave and wave my wand at him.

“Wait! Stay”, says Chen, “It’s been quite a while!”

Groaning I slump back into the chair without further protest, “You’re right...so how’s our Head Girl doing?”

“She’s doing great. We’re doing great! She’s signed up to intern with the Ministry this summer under a certain Arthur Weasley...The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office.” Chen beams and making me want to pinch his cheeks in adoration.

“Congratulations Chen! Ah but I’m not surprised. She’s always been as bright as a button.” I can’t help but coo at these lovebirds. At how absolutely smitten they are with each other while I suffer with an inexplicable tug of longing.

“And you, not so bright. Stopped following Kyungsoo around, have we?” Putting on his ‘big brother cloak’ he quizzes me with a raised eyebrow and I shrink back into my chair out of embarrassment, “You know about it?”

“The whole school’s talking about it!”

“I’ve stopped ‘following him around’ now why isn’t anybody talking about that, eh?” My anger is misdirected at Chen.

“He’s been talking about that. About how you’ve been acting like he’s invisible. A notch below satisfactory behaviour, am I right?” The low rumble of his voice thunders.

“You’re defending your stupid friend here! So much for being unbiased, hah!” Seething, I argue.

“You’re absolutely right Dung Brains I am defending my stupid friend here which is you. Now tell me, airhead, what’s it called when two wizards have their wands pointed at each other, in a combative position.”

I groan, he can’t really be asking me that but the urging silence is uncomfortable.

“A duel”, I mumble.

“You, my dear, were walking straight into a battlefield of hair-brained blokes who were surrounded by stink pellets, dungbombs and fireworks. It was only natural for Kyungsoo to ask you to skedaddle, make a run for it...save your life! If only you’d have let him explain?”

Guilt courses through my veins and I find myself in the defensive, “But then why didn’t he just tell me instead of giving me that terrifying look? I thought he’s ...I thought he didn’t want to see me...and..and why didn’t he do anything when those great prunes started laughing at me? Also why do they keep causing trouble everywhere they go? Do they want to fill up Filch’s office with their records before they graduate? It only means more work for me. And for Kyungsoo.”

“They were celebrating a Muggle custom, April Fools’ Day as per the wise counsel of their frog brained leader Baekhyun and Kyungsoo was only trying to protect you. And you were too obtuse to see that. Why won’t you give him a chance? He’s one of the good ones, you know? And those prunes aren’t too bad either. They were laughing not at you but at him...they’re just happy for their friend.”

“Happy? Why?” My heart goes into a wild frenzy.

“You should ask him that. We’re going to be at the Three Broomsticks for Baekhyun’s birthday celebration on our trip to Hogsmeade this Saturday. So naturally, your Detention is suspended for the week. Come along?” He eyes me expectantly.

“Not in a million years”, I deadpan.

“Don’t be stupid”, with a flick of his wand he makes the three bottles of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion reappear, “and live a little.”

***

On Saturday morning I went down for breakfast feeling thoroughly depressed but trying my best to act normal. Kyungsoo was seated with Yoongi at the Hufflepuff table. He was stealing glances at the Ravenclaw table before his eyes met mine. Pursing his lips he nodded slightly in acknowledgment. For a fleeting second I had a strange desire of joining him at the Hufflepuff table but I quietly slipped into my seat besides the fifth year girl who’s been tutoring Kyungsoo’s friend Kai and has been a tad chipper ever since.

The largest portion of my headspace has been occupied with an internal debate on whether I should apologize to Kyungsoo or not. But I’ve noticed how he’d not been trying too hard either. If I handed him the Detention routine he went along with it without a single word of protest. If I’ve been ignoring him in class he hasn’t been exactly forthcoming. The familiar sense of finality sets deep into my bones and I’ve lost my appetite. I gulp down my tea and slip out of the Great Hall to pay Hagrid a long overdue visit.

.

.

.

They never tire of it. 

The two boys from Slytherin provoked me to strike them with the Twitchy-Ear hex. They’d found it particularly amusing to call me by my stale nickname as I made my way down to Gladrags Wizardwear to buy Hagrid a new moleskin robe. 

He’d been exceptionally understanding despite my despicable behaviour. Not having visited him in nearly six months and communicated with him only via a flurry of owls, I had no idea Fangs had been suffering with distemper. Kyungsoo’s been helping out with a self prepared brew to keep him stable. Explains why he’s been frequenting Hagrid’s hut. Also explains why he didn’t come see me on the second day that I’d spent in the Hospital Wing.

And my attitude towards him explains exactly why he chose to keep the truth about helping me get to the Hospital Wing that day. 

I don’t know how to thank him or apologize to him. Maybe he’s just better off without me. 

I am here in Hogsmeade on a whim. 

As the sun fades into a deeper blue my feet stop outside The Three Broomsticks and I’m desperate to see him. But he’s at a friend’s party and I’d only be making it awkward for everyone.

“Hullo”, a familiar honeyed voice reaches my ears making me stop dead in my tracks.

Taken by surprise, I turn and tip my head back slightly to look up at the large eyed boy, his face bearing that lethal heart shaped smile. I hug myself despite the warmth of May wishing I could make myself smaller.

Having rehearsed an entire apology speech in the shower in the morning, I found myself strangely tongue tied at the sight of him. He prods me to walk the quaint streets of Hogsmeade by his side.

“I’m sorry”, staring into the distance, I muster with a giddy head and a seized up throat.

“No. I’m sorry”, says Kyungsoo as his hand slowly finds mine, inviting stares from passersby, “I should’ve...communicated better. But promise to never shut me out again? I couldn’t take it.”

Fireworks go off in my head at the sudden contact, “No, no I’m sorry I should’ve trusted you and… I promise to never shut you out again.” I couldn’t take it either.

“So what are we now?” He interjects, lacing his warm fingers with mine.

If only he could hear the thunder of my heart, “We’re friends again?”

“Friends who fancy each other? Isn’t that a bit odd?”

“I-- umm, I--”.

“I --- umm?” He teases, “Okay...I fancy you. I always have. In case you hadn’t noticed.”

Going up on my toes I plant a little kiss on his jaw, I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I’ve finally gone mad.

His fingers run over his jaw lightly and he chuckles, “If you attack me like this again I’d have to report you to Professor Sprout.” Letting go off my hand he wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. I feel a tingling sensation run down my spine.

Having circled the rural settlement for nearly an hour, we’re famished. We find ourselves on the High Street, right outside of Honeydukes, “After you, M’lady!” Crouching down in a bow, Kyungsoo gestures me to walk in.

M’lady?

Together we stare in wonder at the shelves upon shelves of the most succulent looking sweets imaginable. We’ve both, individually, been here countless times but together we feel like children lost in wonderland. I realize how light my pockets feel as Kyungsoo’s eyes wander around the shop ambitiously.

“Kyungsoo, I only have enough for Hagrid’s moleskin robe. I didn’t think I’d need a lot of gold for this trip...I could make a quick run to a Cashpoint first”, embarrassed, I admit.

“If we were to compound the five Galleons that I’ve owed you for six years now, I’m certain I could buy you half the shop!” The portly Ambrosius Flume, the owner of Honeydukes, clears his throat in annoyance at Kyungsoo’s comment, eyeing us suspiciously. 

Buy half the shop we did. 

Kyungsoo wasn’t entirely lucky with all the flavours of Berti Botts having sampled soap, dirt and earwax while I almost choked on a rotten-egg flavoured one. The Pepper Imps had us breathing fire at each other and a lock of my hair got caught in the line which Kyungsoo doused just in time and saved my scalp from going up in flames. We pigged on Peppermint Toads which made us sick after they literally started hopping frantically in our stomachs. 

Kyungsoo suggested we make a quick stop at Dogweed and Deathcap for a handful of leaves of a very foul smelling plant that were supposed to help us keep our barbaric fare down. When I absolutely refused to chew on them, Kyungsoo force fed me. The weird red dotted black leaves made our mouths go completely dry and left us with a pungent after taste.

“If you wanted me dead, you could’ve just used the Unforgivable Curse instead!” I cried.

We realized if we weren’t quick about it, we’d just end up breaking curfew so we sprinted to Gladrags Wizardwear to pick up Hagrid’s robe only to be tempted to by the thought of staying longer in each other’s company. Going back to Hogwarts meant being held hostage by the blue and bronze and the yellow and black. I’ve never appreciated Hogwarts’ divisive House system, even more so now.

“We’ll make it in time if we leave exactly at 9:30 p.m.” Kyungsoo reasons.

“How much longer do we have now?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“20ish?” he says sheepishly.

Burying my face into his warm and fuzzy sweater, I whine, “That’s not a lot.”

Squeezing me in a hug he says, “Then let’s make the most of it!”

We enter the shop that’s apparently been dressing ‘the Elegant Wizard’ for over two centuries with lurid socks and flashy robes. I chance upon a moleskin one which I quickly set aside for Hagrid and a furry red one with silver and gold stars that bounced off of it. I egged Kyungsoo to try it on over his all black Muggle clothing along with a bright yellow hat made out of chicken and pheasant feathers. He on the other hand picked out a black velvet robe with a high collar, a set of fake fangs and dragon hide boots that made me look like a vicar at something that the Muggles call a “rock concert.”

The disapproving help at the shop agreed to get our magazine cover worthy looks on camera. She said she’d get them printed and that we could get a copy on our next visit for fifteen Sickles.

Along with Hagrid’s robe, I purchased a pair of socks for the birthday boy Baekhyun. They were patterned with wolves that howled when the socks got too smelly.

And then, just like that, it was time for us to go back to Hogwarts.

***

Which came first; the Phoenix or the Flame?

The eagle knocker drawls and for the first time in six years I have no clue what it’s talking about. I’ve lost all ability to reason and all I want to right now is run over to the Hufflepuff Tower. A tall, thin boy who stood leaned against the wall next to the door comes out of the shadows ‘tsk-ing’ at me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be one of the smart ones? Did Kyungsoo really manage to dumb you down?” He chuckles before proceeding to answer the knocker, leading us into the Common Room. 

I choose to not answer him but he continues to look at me questioningly. He extends his arm and says, “I’m Sehun Oh, fifth-year.”

“I know”, I say, “I’m --”

“I know who you are. The pretty girl who’s captured Kyungsoo’s heart thus breaking mine.” He dramatically clutches at his chest, falls and rolls over on the floor. 

Excusing myself, I softly apologize to the elongated Flobberworm and head over to the Dormitory.

“Wait!”, he calls out, “I didn’t mean to weird you out! Are you up for a game of Chess? You’re practically a friend now… considering what you have going on with Kyungsoo. And I’m really bored.”

What do I have going on with Kyungsoo and what does Flobberworm know about it?

Unsure of my role here as a friend or an entertainer, I decide to indulge him with, “...just one game!”

“Wicked! Let me call Chen and you can ask his girl to join.. also Miss Ravenclaw!”

“Aren’t we all Ravenclaw?”

“Sorry...you know the girl who’s tutoring Kai?”

This is by far the most eventful day I’ve had in all of my six years at Hogwarts.

***

Resting his chin on my shoulder, he’s circled his arms around my waist as we stare into the distance from the Wooden Bridge. Every free period finds us together, somewhere very far away from prying eyes. The seventh floor and the Bridge are our usual haunts. Although, we think of these excursions as extremely detrimental to our upcoming exams, we realize there’s nothing to be gained out of fighting a troll. That is, our intense feelings for each other. But I’m not that brave and honestly neither is he. The shadows underneath his eyes are self explanatory.

“We need to chart up a study schedule. We barely have any time left!” I say bursting out of our saccharine bubble.

“Sure”, he nods, “whatever you say.”

“Kyungsoo!” Freeing myself from his embrace I turn around to face him, “We need to make it to the seventh year!”

“Who says we won’t?”

He’s loopy.

“Kyungsoo!”

“That’s me.”

“Kyungsoo!” 

He pulls me into a hug again and I’m close enough to see the constellation of moles on his neck. “Mmm Sleekeazy”, he hums, sniffing my hair. Distracting me.

“Do you need some?” I ask, immediately realising how his hair seems to be getting shorter each day. I run a hand over his head, “guess you don’t. What do you keep doing with your hair?”

“I like it like that. It’s more comfortable”, he sighs, “Wait! You don’t like it?”

“I can learn to live with it. Besides, more Sleekeazy for me. Keeps my hair from looking like a bunch of Flobberworms!”

Flobberworm! 

I have a Chess game to win!

“Kyungsoo! I have to go. I need to win this time. That Sehun boy is ridiculously good at Chess. Even Chen and I together don’t stand a chance against him.”

“Wait! You’re abandoning me for Sehun?” He asks, mock angrily.

“Noooo! I just….have to win this time. And you need to go chart up a study schedule for us. Also, what are you doing next week?”

“Whatever you’re doing next week”, he says, batting his eyelashes. And I try to suppress a smile.

“Have you ever watched a Quidditch match before?”

“Baekhyun’s Captain of Gryffindor, Kai is the Keeper. Chanyeol is the captain of the Slytherin team and Sehun’s the Seeker for Ravenclaw. And Yoongi is a lousy Beater. So yes, I have. Except I’ve never found myself rooting for my own House. And if you tell those Mandrakes this, I’m afraid I will have to break up with you despite you being the prettiest, smartest, nicest girl I’ve ever met. I’m sorry I don’t make the rules.” 

“Aww”, I tease, “Noted. And you could’ve just said yes. Let’s watch the Hufflepuff vs Ravenclaw match next week?”

“We’ll be in different stands!” He cries.

“Oh! That’s absolutely terrible but can we go anyway? I finally have someone to root for.”

“You’ve always had Ravenclaw to root for!”

“No, silly! Sehun Oh.”

“Ah! Of course”, he says, putting his arms around me. Again.

***

On the morning of the match, I had my game face on. I don’t even know why.

Having successfully followed the study schedule that Kyungsoo had laid out for us, our mood was light, and we were ready to let our hair down. Which, for all practical purposes, wasn’t something Kyungsoo was capable of. We were walking up to the pitch until it was time for us to go our separate ways.

“You turn right and I’ll go left”, I instruct Kyungsoo.

“I’m aware of where the Hufflepuff stands are. Thank you for your consideration.”

“Okay then”, I giggle, “see you later?”

“No...you’re joining me in the Hufflepuff stands.”

“Do you want me to get expelled? Was that your grand scheme all along?”

“Of course they’re going to expel you for this. And if they do, I promise to voluntarily drop out.”

“What will we do then? Deal in stolen artefacts?”

“Looks like you have it all planned out.”

“No, I just know someone...great we’re off on a tangent again! No, I’m not joining you in the Hufflepuff stands. Bye bye Kyungsoo Doh. See you later!”

“You’re bound by law to break the law”, he hands me a neatly folded parchment, “Chen’s detention record. When you came to see me that day, it made me wonder. What was so important? So I went back to sift through the records you’d worked on and voila!”

“What’s ‘voila’?”

“Don’t digress. Come along, house-elf and find me a good seat.”

“Yessir”, I give up. And covering all the blue and bronze of my uniform with the black robe, I sneak into the Hufflepuff stands. 

The things I do for this bald idiot.

The pitch is pulsing with a contagious energy and I find myself completely engaged as soon as Madam Hooch’s first whistle sounds. All the whizzing and whirring players make my head spin so I have my eyes trained on the Ravenclaw goalpost except for when I’m checking up on Sehun’s progress with the Snitch. Ravenclaw hasn’t been doing too well and with the game down to it’s final few minutes, Sehun really is their only hope. Kyungsoo pulls me down everytime I jump or squeal for the Ravenclaw side, “Do you want to get thrashed?” he whispers.

And just then the commentator shouts, “Ravenclaw’s Seeker Sehun has caught the Snitch! RAVENCLAW HAS WON THE MATCH!”

My voice is hoarse from all the screaming. I turn around to face Kyungsoo pulling him in a tight hug annoying all the Hufflepuff fans around us. 

In a fleeting moment of exhilaration, his lips are on mine and the world stops.

***

"Happy memory!" I parrot for our last lesson before the year ends but Kyungsoo seems to be awfully distracted. That teasing smile on his face he's trying not so hard to contain is making my heart thump against my ribcage.

"Focus", I croon once again with mock annoyance but my brain is mush and I feel like I'm levitating because there's no way my jelly legs could be supporting my stance right now. He sways closer to give me a quick peck on the nose. 

"Happy memory", he whispers as his eyes search mine. Brushing a stray lock of hair away from my face, he allows his thumb to softly caress my cheek. His fingers pry for mine before they're intertwined in a steady grip. 

We take our positions, raise our wands and yell with a flick, "Expecto Patronum!"

Two lynxes dance around the Room of Requirement illuminating it with the gleam of their silver.

Dumbstruck, I tilt my head to face Kyungsoo, “Your Patronus...”

“Our Patronuses”, he whispers.

“We have the same --”

Kyungsoo reaches for my waist and draws me close, his plush lips an agonizing touch away from mine. Twirling my fingers in the seams of his robe, I close my eyes and feel my breath hitch in my throat. A tingling sensation spreads through every fragment of my being as his hand finds the back of my neck and his lips meet mine in a dizzying kiss.

.

.

.

Two Years Later

My house looks wonky.

And, no. It’s not the after effect of Apparating here. A wonky house held up by charms in the middle of nowhere was the only thing Kyungsoo and I could afford with his meagre pay at J. Pippin’s Potions and the modest “severance” I received after being practically disinherited by Gran for wasting my time with a Muggle-born.

I trudge the short distance from the shabby front garden to the main door, weary from my dismal performance in today’s Stealth and Tracking lesson. 

The door swings open and the pungent odour coming out from Kyungsoo’s makeshift Apothecary in our basement makes me want to barf. Putting a bubble around my head to avoid the smell, I traipse to the basement.

A bald Kyungsoo is bent over a cauldron, the steam from which has fogged up his glasses and has apparently made him go deaf. I poke him on his shoulder to grab his attention, making him jump. Therefore causing his little vials to smash on the floor.

I just set us back by twenty Galleons.

Kyungsoo is quick to clear the sloppy and shard-y mess I’d made and reverse the Bubble Head charm I’d put myself under. He covers up the putrid cauldron immediately.

Tears well up in my eyes and I lean into his chest. 

The world is bleak.

“You’re home”, he coaxes, gently running a gloved hand over my head.

“Remind me again why I chose to become an Auror? I could’ve done anything with my perfect N.E.W.T. scores. I’m disastrous at this!” I’m sobbing against his soft ‘t-shirt’ as he comforts me with a ‘shhh..it’s okay’. “The chickens have made such a mess in the coop, Soo and I haven’t heard back from the Auror Office on the internship yet. We have a piteous stack of gold in our vault at Gringotts….” sniffling I continue, “You know we could just keep our money in a safe here..those clever Goblins are making so much money out of our money! The vault is a bad decision...we’re losing more money because of it. I hate the vault and the chickens and this house! What if it crumbles down while we’re asleep? What will we do then?” I pull away from him, my wide eyes demanding answers.

“We won’t have to worry about much if the roof comes crashing on us”, He reasons with a slight teasing smile. 

“The very stringent Auror Office accepted you because you’re a brilliant witch and right, I believe you enrolled with them only to spite Gran. And honestly my love, you’re being too hard on yourself. You did really well on the Concealment and Disguise training, didn’t you?” He says, lifting my chin up.

“Also on the Memory Charm”, I offer quietly, making him chuckle.

“Exactly! What else is bothering you? Ahh the chickens and the vault?” 

“Also the fact that Gran hates you and your parents think I’m a sinister witch who has tied their son down”, my lips begin to tremble again.

He sighs.

“I promise to take care of the chicken situation tomorrow and my love, we finally have a reason to keep that vault”, his eyes enlarge into beautiful brown circles and his plush lips stretch into a heart. A shrill pitch betrays his otherwise deep, calm voice, “Dogweed and Deathcap has offered me a job with a pay raise and a free supply of ingredients! Which is a great thing because ever since you’ve started your Auror training you’ve practically emptied my Dittany stores!”

“KYUNGSOO! I’m so happy for you!” Screaming, I jump into his arms and he twirls me around, dancing and giggling.

Panting, he says excitedly, “Wait! There’s more. Apparently the article on the benefits of Confusing Concoction I co-authored with Slughorn’s Warlock friend’s daft grand nephew?”

I nod vigorously.

“That article really took off! One of the reviews called me a ‘promising Potioneer’! Gran apparently got a whiff of that article...”

My expression soured, “And?”

“She’s invited us home to discuss it!” He rummages for a letter in his desk drawer and hands it to me, “Take a look at this!”

The letter reads in Gran’s shrewd yet artistic handwriting. She mentions, to the best of her abilities, how proud she is of me for following my parents’ footsteps and that she’d like to see us for dinner to discuss our ‘future’.

“She’s coming around”, Kyungsoo crouches to peer into my blank eyes.

“Took her long enough.”

“There’s one more thing”, he says sheepishly.

It looks like an evening full of surprises. 

Kyungsoo gives me a glossy magazine with a still picture of a woman in the most garish outfit I’ve ever seen with the word VOGUE sprawled across her scrawny frame in big bold white letters.

“Soo, why are you giving me a Muggle magazine?”

“For Muggle clothing inspo.”

I hate it when he uses these ridiculous foreign terms like “inspo” and “voila”. “Voila” is definitely his favourite.

“Why would I need clothing inspiration, Soo? Do you not like what I wear?”

“I love what you wear. Even when you don’t wear --”

“Soo!”

“Okay umm we have to take a trip to London...my parents would like to have us over for the weekend….you’re”, he pauses, “you’re okay with that right?”

It’s a lot to process. 

What if they prosecute me by hanging? I’ve read about what Muggles do to witches. Idly running through the pages of the magazine which suddenly seems too heavy for my arms, I buy time. Kyungsoo patiently waits for my answer.

“What’s ‘goss’?” I mumble, eyes trained on ‘Vogue’.

“Gossip?”

“Ahh...I have some ‘goss’ on Baekhyun and his girlfriend.” I digress and let me.

His brows crinkle in concern, “Oh-kay?”

“They were caught snogging in one of the Training Rooms yesterday...”

“And what became of them?”

“I don’t know.” They were made to clean all the Training Rooms the Muggle way. “Kyungsoo, I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He pulls me into his arms and presses his soft lips to my forehead, “We’ll get through this.”

“Of course, we will. We’re soulmates”, I say into his chest, reminiscing the time we’d kissed while two lynxes waltzed around us.

Suddenly, with a loud boom, Kyungsoo’s cauldron went flying in the air. It’s bubbling hot contents splattered on the walls of our basement. The impact made us duck under his desk.

“I forgot to turn off the burner.”