#i would like to be gone before that bc maybe i’ll get a slightly less shitty spot in the afterlife (whatever that is)

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter eighteen - your fathers eyes

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 5.9k

warnings: canon typical violence, punisher shit, mentions of blood, death, gross stuff u know the drill by now. also we decapitate someone. ya.

a/n: i’m not even an older sibling but why does this make me so emo???? idk. also yes i named the brother bc i’m watching supernatural again. i’m soft okay don’t look at me. how is there 18 chapters of my shit up in this bitch wow okay enjoy!!

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been an hour since the call from Agent Madani, and you were still in some sort of shock.

They’re going to kill him.

“Where’d you see ‘em last?” Frank had asked, getting in the drivers side of the car while you loaded the boot as fast as you could.

“He’s heading back to base, but it’s a mess. The ‘New America’ men stationed there have gone full riot— they saw the news, thought it was time to take a stand or some shit. Dead bodies everywhere. I have a link through their network— he’s given the order to move the kid, but the rest of them want him dead.”

“Why move him?” You felt sick as Frank pulled off the curb, but it was a fair question. Bobby wanted to hurt you— break the last piece of yourself you still had. Why not just kill him now? You were still six hours away, although with the way Frank was driving, it would be less.

“He said he wanted to finish the job— that he was taking him somewhere he could do that.” A part of you lit up— a part that you had tried to swallow down the past few weeks, something that had been far too easy to do.

“My old house.” You say, and Frank looks at you only for a second before repeating it into the phone. “It’s only an hour away from their base. We still have five between us.”

“They haven’t been able to get him out yet. Too many people.” You’d bought yourself time— maybe a few precious hours, but it would be enough. It had to be. “I’m heading out there now, you go straight to the kid. I’ll tell the rest of the squad to meet you there.”

Frank throws the phone behind him, and you see the red bar of the accelerator hit a new height. The highway stretched so far in front of you that you couldn’t see any end— it was like it went on forever, continuously throwing miles and miles between you and one of the only things you cared about.

“We’re gonna get there.” Frank says, sending your anxiety and you tuck your legs up under your chin. “There’s too many of the Colonels guys out there to make a quick exit.”

“Bobby’s men will shred them.”

“Good. That was always the plan. It’ll take ‘em time, time we need.” Swallowing hard, the seatbelt around your neck feels like it’s suffocating you. “We’re gonna get there.”

“How do you know?” The voice that comes out of you isn’t one you felt related to anymore— that low, commanding tone that sent shivers down your spine. Frank isn’t phased, his hand dropping from the wheel and planting firmly over yours.

“You trust me?” It was simple now— you trusted him with your life, like he did with his. Once a far away idea, now a real, tangled thread tying you to him. You nod once, and you swear he smiles slightly. “I’ll get you there.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank drove the next few hours, and you slept where you could. Once you got into the drivers seat, Frank passed out almost immediately. He’d told you to wake him up in an hour, but he needed to conserve his energy, so you let him sleep.

Weaving through traffic, you knew what you were driving into. It was going to be your last few moments of freedom— but nothing would stop you. Not when you were this close. You’d come to terms with the fact he might not know who you are, and as much as that broke your heart, nothing mattered more than his safety. He was your brother. The one you had let your house burn for, the one you’d killed for a thousand times. You owed him this much. It was your fault he was there, your fault he was used as leverage.

Everything you had done was leading to this moment, and when the sign to your town flashed over your head, you took the exit and woke Frank up, trying to swallow down the sickness in your chest.

“Hey, we’re nearly there.” He shot up, moving a lot easier than just a few hours before. The other wounds would hold well enough, but that one on his side was still raw. Madani had said they were taking a few men with your brother, and they’d only gotten him out about half an hour ago. You’d beat them here— giving you an advantage. You’d need all the help you could get right now.

“They already there?” Frank leans into the back seat, pulling out a long gun and loading it up.

“No. We should have… twenty minutes.” You pull onto your street. God— it was your street, your home after so long. The neighbouring houses were exactly how you remembered them— white picket fences, golden retrievers barking at mail men, the smell of someone barbecuing something. It was all so… familiar. “It’s this one.”

Pulling over, you hadn’t allowed yourself to look just yet. There’s been something built over the top of the ruins. A giant yellow ‘for sale’ sign is sticking up in the lawn, and then you see the one thing about this street that you don’t recognise. The house— entirely rebuilt as if you were never there. In some ways, you guessed you weren’t.

“Hey.” Is all Frank says, but it’s all he needs to. He says everything in that one look— that you needed to be good right now, needed to be strong just for a little longer, and you’d have everything you worked for. You both get out of the car, and look up.

“You should get up high. Pick them off.” Watching Frank wince as he bends out of the car, it’s clear he’s not 100%.

“Just like before. Once you see him, go. Madani’ll be there somewhere.” He says, but not with the relief that you feel. Your brother was going to be safe; that was a good thing. “Once your brothers safe…”

“I do what she wants me to do.” A metallic taste in your mouth forms at the words, knowing you wouldn’t see him again. Was that it? “That’s the deal.”

Frank meant… something to you now. What that was, you hadn’t had time to figure out, but it was big enough to distract you from your work, and certainly big enough to risk your life for. You’d brought each other back from the edge time and time again, and even though it had only been a few months since you met him, you don’t remember feeling anything like you do now for anyone you’ve met.

The way he always looked at you like you were something special— the first real person to treat you with some kind of dignity, kindness, compassion. He saved your life, knowing what you were and what you’d done, and you had done the same for him. He stepped forward, hand reaching for yours as he pulled you toward the empty house.

“Once he’s safe, come back to me.” You blink a few times. Once your brother was out, Madani would need to take you in. None of this made sense if you weren’t the link—if you weren’t her informant, she would never get the location to be here today. You had to— “You come back.”

“I can’t. Agent Madani—“

“Screw that.” He busted the lock to the door, and instantly you were looking around, finding possible vantage points of the new layout all the while trying to process what Frank was saying.

“I- I have to make sure he’s okay.” That was all it was. There was only, truely, one person that would override whatever it was holding you to him. One person that didn’t even know who you were. You heard the screech of tires outside, and knew that you didn’t have time. You never seemed to have the time you wanted with him, no matter how long you were given.

“He will be.” The guns strapped to him bulk him up too much, and you can’t get closer, but you heart was beating so fast like he was on top of you. You already know what he’s trying to say before he says it.

“I can’t ask you to do that. He’s… he needs to be away from all this shit. Away from me—“

“That’s bullshit. Kid would be lucky to have someone like you.” You try to blink it away, but a tear drops down your cheek anyway. “It’s not just for him. Come back to me.”

“I will. You know I will.” He doesn’t look so sure. You knew you needed to go with Agent Madani— give her what she wants, hold up your end of the deal. You couldn’t start your life running from another person. But after all that, you’d come back to him. You always would. “You remember that day that I left the hotel, after you stitched my leg up?”

“I remember that night.” You suck in a slow breath, trying not to think about how his hands held your skin, how you knew how they felt everywhere now.

“I left in the morning, and you told me you would leave if I didn’t come back.” He nods, eyes looking over your shoulder and out the window again, checking you were still alone, then locking back on you. “I knew I was coming back. Always. No matter what happens, I’ll come back.”

“You were late.” He looks down at you, hand tangled in your hair. “I told you thirty minutes in that hotel and I’d leave. Waited 45.”

“God, you really have gotten soft.” A grin splits his face, and his thumb traced over that tiny little scar on your head, the one he made with his gun the first time you fought. “Go.”

You shove him towards the stairs, knowing he needs time to set himself up, but he just looks at you.

“Go, Frank.” He looks like he’s in pain, and you can’t tell if it’s his side or you telling him to move, but either way it hurts him. You turn around, hearing Franks’ loud footsteps stomping up to the window of the attic you had spotted, and try to focus. Nothing was laid out the same, but you didn’t need it to be. You could asses— you could find the best spot, and then you would do what you always did. Find a way.

Frank was shooting as soon as the engine to the now pulled up car outside cut out. You shrunk back, covering yourself from the door by the corner of the wall, peeking up to look over out the window and firing a few shots. Two guys were splayed out on the driveway, blood splattered on the white fencing around the front lawn.

“Kill him now! Just fucking end it already!” One of the men was shouting and you couldn’t hold your spot any longer. You know you should, but you couldn’t stand there and wait. You had waited too long already— it was here and now, and a glimpse of brown hair, curly, like your dads, cracked out of the boot of the car, and you ran.

Adrenaline like you’d never felt it spurred every move. Three car loads of people were in front of you and you tore through them without blinking. You swung an open hand across the first man’s face, and felt the flesh split part underneath the sharp end of your fingers. Blood splattered and he fell, so you moved on to the next. Shots were firing around you, but you didn’t flinch for a second, trusting Franks’ eye to keep you safe. Trusting him to keep you safe.

You could see a part of your brothers face now. He was curled up in a corner of the boot of the car, hands over his head. You were distracted, and one of the men clocked you over the head but you recovered quickly, feeling his weight drop away when a sniper bullet tore through his head. There was another man, his focus on the car, shoving other people out of his path. He was the leader of some sort, ordering people in the chaos of bodies, and the shout of his voice was one you recognised.

You ran across the yard, dodging bullets and cracking bone wherever you could. You got your hands around the cuff of his shirt and yanked him back, only a few meters from where the gun in his hand would of been firing at your brother. He struggles, calling to someone, but your fingers are already linked around his neck. The flesh under his jaw gives way, and a familiar crack sounds as his body drops lifelessly to the pavement.

You hold his fractured head in your hands just for a second too long, before dropping it, a loud thud ringing over the shouts of men around you. The numbers had thinned, and you hadn’t realised Frank had dropped out of the second story window, hearing him groaning in pain as he laid into the man underneath him. Two more punches confirmed the man’s fate, and Frank staggered upright before turning around and starting over on the next.

You sprinted downhill, finishing off whoever you could, and your breath caught in your throat when you finally rounded the car.

You saw him.

Terrified, curled up, but unharmed. Your brother— after twelve years, he was here, and real, and right in front of you.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” His voice cries out, and footsteps behind you snap you away from the moment. You take care of your next victim swiftly, using the gun Frank gave you to put a bullet through his eyes, but not before you dragged him out of your brothers eyesight. He didn’t need to see anymore of it.

“Sammy?” You kept your distance, seeing how much the kid was shaking, but when you called his name, he looked up slowly. “Is that you?”

“How—how do you know my name?” He says, arms still wrapped over his head. You could feel how much blood you were covered in; feel it dripping off onto your shoes.

“I…” You lose the words. God— he looked just like your dad. That same curly hair, bright eyes… he even sounded like him. You heard more shots fired, and Frank was okay— you knew it, because the footsteps could be no one but him. “You won’t remember me, but I promise I’m not here to hurt you.”

“I haven’t seen you before?” He asks, the high pitch voice only reminded you how young he is. Your heart broke a little more when he shuffled back, seeing Frank appear behind you.

“It’s okay. You… I have met you before, but you were very young.” You were blinking back tears, and he squinted— curious. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” His clothes were dirty, and there was a small cut on his cheek, probably from where they had knocked him out before chucking him in. “They— please, don’t make me go back with them. They’ll hurt me, they said—“

“No, I promise… God, I swear I will never let them take you again. Okay?” His eyes brimmed with tears, but he nodded, inching forward just a little. “First, we have to get you out of here. There’s some people coming, they are going to make sure you are safe.”

“People?” You nod, and he shakes his head. “No, no I can’t go with anyone. I don’t want to go with them again.”

“I promise you— they will keep you safe.” He was still shaking his head a little, bundled up in a corner, looking over your shoulder. You’d nearly forgotten Frank was there. “He’s a friend. It’s alright.”

“Why are you helping me?” He asks, eyes still squinted. Maybe you had mistaken his curiosity for suspicion, and it killed you that he had to be.

“I… I knew your parents. They would want me to make sure you are safe. I’ve been looking for you ever since they took you.” He shoots straight up, with more energy than you would of assumed he had with the dark rings under his eyes.

“My parents? You knew them?” You nod, going to open your mouth but he was was already talking. “What about my sister? Do you know her?”

“Your sister?” You felt something inside you thaw out— he knew he had a sister.

“They didn’t want me to know about her, but I remembered. They have her somewhere, she’ll be looking for me, too. I don’t want to go with someone else— you have to help me. I want to find her. I have to tell her I’m okay!” He was frantic, standing on his knees in the back of the van, his hands stained with how he grabbed your blood covered shoulders. “They said she was coming— that they’d kill me before she could find me. You have to let me go, I need to find—“

“Easy, kid.” Frank knelt down beside you, his hand easing Sammy down to sit. He was breathing rapidly, and looked pale. “Just… take a second. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

It’s you now that might start crying. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you— watching your brother, alive and real in front of you was one thing, but seeing Frank— Frank, who apparently never misses a fucking thing, talk him through it, counting the seconds for him slow and clear.

In for seven.

Out for eleven.

You knew exactly what you wanted now. God, it was so clear, now it was in front of you.

“I need to…” Sammy started saying again now his breathing was slower, less panicked. “I have to find my…” He stopped talking, looking up at you, eyes locked onto yours. “I do know you.”

“Yeah, you do.” You say, voice choked up. You knew what he was looking at. Where he had your fathers eyes, you were the spitting image of your mother. You saw the recognition, how his face drops when he puts it together. “I’m so sorry, Sammy. I tried to—“

He cut you off, slamming his entire body into yours so hard you nearly toppled over. His arms locked around your neck, so tight it crushed you a little but you couldn’t care less, grabbing him just as tight. He was smiling, maybe even laughing, and for some strange reason he laughed the same as he did when he was just a little baby, all high pitched and squeaky.

The sound makes you breathe again, holding him as close as possible. Your family, your fucking brother was here, in your arms, and it felt like somehow all this had been worth it. If you had to go through everything over again, for this moment, you would. Even with your brother in your arms, though, you knew it wasn’t the only thing you’d go through hell to fight for again.

Frank had a hand on your lower back, keeping you from dropping backwards even further as Sam eventually stopped clinging to you.

“How did you find me?!” He shouted, a giant grin spread across his little face. You never thought you had a motherly bone in your body, but seeing him just made you want to grab him and never let him out of your sight again.

“I never stopped looking for you. They never let me see you, I thought you might of been…”

“I knew they had you! I nearly found you, too! But they told me you were coming, just a few months ago and I thought it wasn’t real, but it was!” A car pulls onto the street, and you grab him, putting yourself in front of Frank and Sam. Franks hand falls on your shoulder.

“It’s Madani.” You knew she would come. Knew that this wouldn’t last, but he was safe. She would make sure of it. You turned back around, linking your hand with Frank’s, who had inched closer to you.

“I never stopped looking for you.” You put your hand on his head, and he smiles again, but it doesn’t last long when he sees Agent Madani walking up to you on the street, two other agents with pale faces taking in the scene. “Don’t worry. She’s a friend, too.”

“You must be Samuel.” She bends down, nodding at you and Frank, and smiling. “It’s very nice to meet you. My name is Dinah.”

He looks back to you, unsure, and the gesture is so small but it means so much to you. To have him look to you. You nod back, trying to look as encouraging as possible while still covered in blood.

“It’s okay. You know how I said before, there’s people that can make sure you never end up here again.” You stood up, and he did the same, following you close behind.

You lead him away from the scene, but he doesn’t seem phased, which only makes the pit in your stomach a little bigger. He must be used to it— to seeing things like this. It made this decision a little easier. If he was with you, this is all he would see, and even if the prospect of leaving him moments after you got him felt like a piece of yourself was being torn out, you knew you couldn’t stay with him.

“I’ll let you guys have a second. Then we have to get moving.” She looks at you, sympathy painted on her face as she heads back onto the front lawn, trying to shoo away the gathered neighbours. Stopping at the car, you bend down again, noticing Frank has given you your space, talking with Madani.

“You sure you aren’t hurt?” He shakes his head again, eyebrows nearly crossed.

“Don’t make me go with them. I…”

“You have no idea how much I want you to stay with me. I’ve been trying to get to you for 12 years— and I’ll visit as much as they let me.” You try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“As much as they let you? Where are you going?” He looks over your shoulder again, constantly analysing where he is, who’s around him.

“I’ve done… I’ve done some really bad things to find you, Sammy. I don’t regret it, not one second; but I have to own up to it now you’re safe.” You can feel the moment closing in on you, Frank and Agent Madani coming up behind you. “You’re gonna be okay, and I’ll be around, I just… god, you look just like him, you know.”

“Like who?” His voice was so small.

“Just like Dad.” He hugs you again, clinging onto your bloodied clothes. “It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

“I don’t want you to go away again.” He cries into your shirt, and you do your best not to cry with him.

You needed him to go. You needed him to be safe, and to know he wasn’t in danger anymore— Bobby was still out there, and you couldn’t give him the security you know he needed. Whether you were locked up by the FBI or hunting down the rest of the gang on your own terms, you needed to know he was safe. And happy— seeing that kid smile made the last twelve years worth it. Agent Madani calls your name, and you look at her, still clinging to your brother.

“We need to get going. The rest of the Bureau is on its way, and they won’t wait before…” She looks down at Sam, and smiles kindly, choosing not to finish her sentence in front of him.

“Madani.” Frank says, his voice low.

“Castle.” He says something to her you can’t hear, and Sam finally lets you go.

“Alright. I have to go, now. You’re gonna go with some really nice people, and they’ll make sure you’re—“

“I don’t want to.” He says, a little more defiant. He wasn’t a baby anymore, and he sure as hell had good reason not to want to go with anyone, even you.

“I don’t want you to go either, but I have to sort this shit out and then I promise I’ll come see you.”

“Why? You haven’t done anything!” He turns to Agent Madani, having to look up pretty high to see her. “She was just trying to help me! It’s my fault— I promise she was just… they would have killed me. You want them to kill a kid? Huh?!” Christ, even though you haven’t seen him since he was a baby, he sounded more like you that you thought possible.

“We just need to talk to her for a while. Make sure everything is sorted out.” Madani says, trying to reason.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine right here.” He says, and you may have your mothers face, but he has every bit of her attitude. He moves away from her, holding you by one arm, and to your surprise, grabs Frank as well, who looks down at Sammy like he’s seen a ghost.

“We need to go. Now.” She says, losing her patience as she looks down at her phone.

“Okay.” You take Sams face in your hands, seeing his cheeks already smeared with blood. “Okay, I need you to do this for me. Just go with her, and I swear to God I will come back for you, but it isn’t safe for me either. We still have to find—“

“Bobby. I know. He told me he was coming for you.” Sam says. “You promise I’ll see you soon?”

“Promise.” You hug him, and he stands to the side, Frank looking down at you.

“You promise you’ll see me real soon?” He says, and you smile, laugh, then grab him and kiss him as hard as you can. You don’t care everyone’s watching, that everyone can see— you’ve spent too much time without the people you love, and you aren’t wasting a second of it now. And you do, love him, even though it makes you feel sick and scared and all too consumed— you love the shit out of him, and he kisses you right back. You let yourself think he’s telling you the same.

“I’m coming back for you. I promise.” You whisper, and Frank leans into you, his forehead pressing to yours. “Just like you said. I just need to know he’s okay.”

“He will be. I’ll—“

“Frank, he’s not your responsibility. I’d… I’d never ask you to do that.” Your eyes flutter open, watching as he looked at you with some kind of intensity you felt nearly naked under.

“I know.” You can’t help it, leaning in to kiss him again. “You say the word, and I’ll get you out of here right now.”

“It won’t be long. I…” You weren’t going to make a promise you couldn’t keep. In truth, you have no idea how long it would be. It could be hours, years… she could be planning to take you to Rikers and lock you away for good. Whatever happened, though, you’d come back. You knew that. “I’ll come.”

“You better, or I’ll have to come find you.” He says into your hair.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Shaking his head, he links his arms around your back and crushes you to him, all but devouring every one of your senses.

“I have to go.” The sirens of cop cars sound around the corner, and you pull away at the sound but he just pulls you back. “I have to.”

“I know.” You pull him back this time, allowing for one, two, three more seconds of pure, pure happiness.

“I have to go.” You open the care door, mouth still on his. Everything is coming to a point— things feel sharp and raw and you have a name for that thing your feeling right now, the thing that’s been eating at you for a longer time that it should of. You know what it is, and that it’s not the right time or place but he kisses you again and you can’t help it. “I have to go,I—I love you. I have to go.”

You drop into the seat of the cop car behind you and the door is closed by more agents who appear out of nowhere. Through the tinted window you can only just make out his face, how his mouth is open and he hasn’t moved an inch from where you left him, and you can’t see anything more as you are sped out of your childhood street, and straight to the headquarters of Homeland Security.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should go, too.” Madani says, and Frank is still glued to the sidewalk like an idiot, watching you get hauled away in handcuffs. Like they’d do anything to hold you. “They might not kill you, but they’ll try.”

“What are you gonna do with him?” Frank nods over to where the kid— your brother, was sitting in the back of an ambulance. Madani blew out a breath.

“Social services, probably. He’s going to need a lot of help, and who knows what kind of shit he went through in there.”

“So you just ship him off?”

“Why are you trying to make me the bad guy here?” She turns to him, and Frank can’t take his eyes off the end of the road where you disappeared.

He thinks he could of blinked and missed it, that fucking word you said. He can’t even hear the sirens anymore, you were that far away. And he didn’t say it back. Said nothing at all— just fucking stood there and watched you go, staring down the street.

“If we don’t do this now, everything I’ve built— everything you’ve done for the past year goes to shit. If they find out I was working behind their backs and never brought her in, I get fired and the Gnucci’s lawyers get the case thrown out. Him and the rest of his family walk free. Are you willing to risk that? Especially now, with him out there?” She nods at the kid, but he’s still staring down the road. Madani looks too, and clearly puts it together. It probably didn’t help that he’d kissed you before you left. But what else was he gonna do? “I saw that, before. Since when were you and her…”

“You really goin’ there with me right now?” She put her hands up.

“Okay. I won’t ask.” He shakes his head, turning to face her. “He’s not going far. For now, we put him with a foster home. Keep him close as we can. I don’t want to seperate them.”

“Be a lot easier for them to be together if you let her go.” Madani sighs again, ignoring the buzzing of her phone.

“I told you both, I would do everything I can, but I’m not a miracle worker.” She goes to answer her phone and walk away, and something overtakes him. He can see the kid sitting there, alone, staring down the road like he was just seconds ago. “Some things need time. I need to put this all together, legally, or we’re all back where we started. The Gnucci’s have money— which means they have good lawyers. One slip up, and we lose everything, and I can’t control the fall out of that.” He knew what that meant— that you’d be the CIA’s next target, like you are now, and all this shit would of been for nothing. But he’d wait, if that’s what he had to do.

That little boy was gonna be waiting for you, too. The only family that kid had ever known just walked in and out in less than ten seconds. His face, all sad and tired, was tugging at strings Frank didn’t know he had left, and something about him, seeing a little bit of you in those big eyes… something in him just switches, and he’s grabbing Madani on the arm and saying something he’s probably going to regret.

“Let me take him.” Her face drops, and he thinks she laughs for a second before she realises he’s serious. He should laugh too. It was fucking ridiculous— a kid, a twelve year old, tagging along with him. Now, of all times.

“You?” Him. “You want me to hand over a vulnerable child to a known felon? A man who just racked up a higher body count that most of my agents have in years on the force, in less than twenty minutes?” He looks out at the yard, the bodies being carried away, then sees the kid out the corner of his eye, watching too, not flinching or even reacting. He felt…bad for him.

“Or take your chance in the foster system. You and I both know how well that can work out.” Madani looks at him then, the inference clearly enough to make her think for a second. “Come on. At least you’ll know I’ll be close to the city. You know I won’t be far.”

“Because you’re waiting for her.” She looks at him a final time, assessing him like she did when she first met him, interrogated him. He nodded once, and watched as she went over to Sam. His head snapped up when she started talking, and he looked him in the eyes, and it was then that Frank realised what he’d done. 

His vision and his brain was foggy with the memory and though of you, and now this kid was looking at him and he was fucking terrified. He didn’t know why, really. Maybe it was the part of him that was still so attached to kids. Your brother wasn’t that much older than Frankie Jr. would of been by now. Probably would look a lot like him too. Head of hair that messy, it was making Franks stomach churn just to think about it.

He didn’t know why he’d said what he did to Madani, but he did know you, and maybe that was why he’d done it. He knew you’d feel safer if your brother was with him, the only person you trusted since getting out. He knew a lot of things about you, now he thought about it, and yeah— that was exactly why he’d said he’d look after him. He was important to you. And you... you were everything to him.

Sam hopped off the back of the ambulance, walking over to Frank slowly, his head tilted a little to the side, and Frank thinks he might be in over his head again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tag list:

@stress--relief

@hellskitchens-whore

@blkwayne

@itwasthereaminuteago

@margoo0

@daisykins

@paryl

@urlocalgeek

@hello-lisa1026

@castlesnchurches

@superbreadsoul

@lemon-world1

@officalpetergriffin

@batcreep

@quackson03

@violetsandroses8

@turningtoclown

@yourfriendhenrywinter

@peaky-shelby

@hollandorks

[euphoricfilter]

OMG WTF "FAIRYTALE DREAMS" WAS SO GOOD! (idk i feel like your writing got better or something in this fic? it feels different in terms of pacing, wording, and smut idk. or is it bc i love the concept hm idk) I love both of the characters and their relationship dynamic. Shy, spoiled mc. (ipad baby tho lol. im a lil like that with my phone tho so yeah hm) Simp Namjoon who takes care of her so much and never wants her to be sad omg TT I love the intro section and the usage of fairy tales. "That sickly feeling you get...the main cast of the story, fall in love and find their god-awful happiness that you can only dream of." This paragraph hit hard. Mood while watching kdramas and good fics omg TT His thought process and obsession feel realistic. The cafe section was really good. Patient Namjoon and the sleeve holding. so cute TT "Namjoon feels his cock twitch in his pants as you bend over the table slightly," I love this part bc it seems like he doesn't even take his eyes off her omg. (right?) such a simp aww. and the casual hair pulling omg. SIZE AND BULGE KINK OMG! The dirty talk is so good. The fleshlight line got me so flustered omg. (i love it) The murder part was interesting. He waited for a long time wow. Why? Him writing his fantasies was good omg. How did he kill him? And he goes to Jin's home bc he doesn't want to risk her seeing the blood? Does Jin know about the murder or not? Namjoon also said he lied to her in the beginning? I wonder if he had a bad past or job. My first thought was he was in a gang with Jin. What's his current job?

-🖤

NDJSJSNWJE THANK YOU

this one probably is different, i think this is closer to my actual writing style. i seriously find writing requests and drabbles kinda hard and idk why it’s like i need to see ever individual paragraph split up otherwise everything feels jumbled and i’m constantly second guessing myself

i think for this, i had a clear idea of what i wanted and how i wanted to write it, so it was less, always second guessing what i was doing throughout the whole thing. i think this also took me 3 days 🥲 when usually i can get a request done over like an afternoon and then edit everything at night

honestly i think i was projecting because super simp namjoon just 😋 it’s what i need in my life and maybe this is why i have yet to date because this is what i expect from a relationship

the cafe scene made me giggle or whatever and i had a very clear idea of how i wanted it to be and think i did okay in explaining it 🥲

oh yeah if the m/c is in the room then namjoon’s eyes are on her no matter what, this man does not care

idk where the fleshlight line came from, that wasn’t me i swear something just consumed my body and then uh oh my fingers were typing it out

ah yes the murder scene, he waited because if he’d gone after jimin right from the bookshop then it would have been kinda obvious he had been the killer and he’s not trying to get arrested, luckily he has the patience of a saint so he didn’t mind waiting a little while before he did what he needed to do

i think i’ll write a second part at some point to fill in the gaps that weren’t touched on in this because jin plays a significant role in namjoon’s murders and how he always seems to get away with it that’s why he wasn’t all that fazed when he showed up at his house after dealing with jimin

yeeah i think the foundation of their relationship was probably based off lies, though i doubt it would have taken much convincing on namjoon’s part to woo the m/c, because no matter what he was going to be a good boyfriend to her

nope no gang in this one

namjoon works in an office, among other things 😋

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴

≛ 𝘧𝘵. 𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶, 𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰, 𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴.

≛ 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵.

≛ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴: 1𝘬

≛ 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢 /𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨/𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘥𝘰𝘮 (𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪), 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 18. 𝘥𝘶𝘩.

𝘪𝘻𝘶𝘬𝘶:

i’m gonna be honest

that whole “innocent bby deku🥺” shit is played out. this man will demolish your pussy and will not apologize for it.

izuku has the full capacity to be rough in bed, so don’t let his sweet and demure presence fool you

he’s really into overstim surprisingly enough

watching you stir and keen as you cum again for the third time in a row fills him with a sense of pride

knowing nobody else could make you whine like this, make you sputter and stumble over each word, make you cream all over the dick the way he does

he also adores fucking you to the point where you can’t form a comprehensible sentence

he’ll give you deep, slow strokes while holding a bullet vibe directly to your swollen clit, pine eyes sparkling as he watches you plead for him to stop, yet buck your hips into him, chasing another orgasm.

calls you bunny instead of puppy bc ew

“you’re so insatiable, bunny. you like it when i—ah, fuck!—tease your pussy like this? ‘like it when i take what’s mine?”

the pleasure is overwhelming, insurmountable as he brings you to that prepice over and over again until you’re crying.

he’ll then flip you onto your stomach, hands digging into the dimples and slopes of your hips before absolutely impaling you on his length

he’s thick, and comes in at a solid 6-7 inches, so you’re always sore after a round or two

also

breeding kink. like a major one.

izuku wasn’t always the most confident in his abilities as a boyfriend let alone a lover

so when you started letting him cum inside you it was a huge boost

likes breeding you before work so he can think about the guys that hit on you in the break room smelling the scent of sex all over your body as you walk past them, sticky white fluid creeping down the leg of your pantyhose.

he couldn’t keep other guys from looking at you, but he could damn sure remind you of who you belonged to.

oh, and he’ll slide two fingers in once he’s done and scoop as much of his cum between them as possible before slipping them in your mouth so he can watch you suck it all off

this mf is possessive and nasty.

𝘣𝘢𝘬𝘶𝘨𝘰:

facefucking.

that’s it. send tweet

nah but in all seriousness, katsuki loves watching your eyes well up with tears as you squeeze and milk his dick for all it’s worth.

he’s a good 7-7.5 inches

not an insane amount of girth but the length more than compensates for it

most definitely uses it as a punishment

and isn’t afraid to do it while you’re in public either

which brings us to his exhibition kink

he’s very prideful when it comes to his reputation as a hero, so you would think that it would keep him from doing anything scandal worthy

wrong

it only adds to the searing arousal he gets from watching your tongue fondle his sensitive head, knees bruised from being beneath him for so long

it’s a power trip for him, especially if he’s in costume

depending on your behavior, he’ll be generous and let you swallow while praising your performance

or he’ll wrap a hand around the back of your neck, slide your mouth off of his spit-soaked cock, and stroke himself until his cum splatters all over your eyelashes, fully debauching you in the desolate alleyway

he’s made you walk back home with cum all over your face before, after you’d been particularly bratty over the course of a week

“katsuki! i can’t walk back home like this, what if someone notices?!”

“should’ve thought about that before you decided to visit me while you weren’t wearing any fuckin’ panties. nasty little girl...now hurry up and get a move on, and you better not wipe it off either.”

loves the thrill of humiliating you

unrelated, but he’s an ass man through and through, taking such pleasure in watching it jiggle and ripple under each heavy blow he delivers

takes photos of the marks afterwards and has an album for em.

he also loves fucking you on different surfaces around your penthouse (and his agency)

the man is territorial

so what better way to mark his territory than by making his gorgeous girlfriend squirt and cream all over it?

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘰:

babe i am so sorry for your neighbors

cause if there’s nothing else shinsou loves it’s to make you scream

he’s got a corruption kink, but not in the way most people do

he doesn’t give a damn if you’re sweet and innocent, or if you’ve got the mouth of a sailor and could suck the chrome off a trailer hitch

what matters to him is making you lose your composure.

one day you’d been anticipating a call back from a job interview you’d gone to a few days prior

and shinsou just so happened to be observing your blissed-out expression as he ground into you from below, your body atop his

when your damned phone started ringing

being the sly little shit that he is, he saw an opportunity

“answer the phone pretty girl...don’t wanna keep them waiting, do you?”

reaching for your buzzing cell, you press the green ‘accept’ button, raising the device to your ear as you jolt forward

“hello, may i speak to y/n?” a chipper voice chimed through the receiver.

“t-this is sh-she. how can i—ah!—help you?” you garble your words, trying to suppress your moans

hitoshi merely takes this as a challenge, opting to drive into you deeper whilst trying to keep the noise down, it’s less fun when it’s obvious what you two are doing

his dick is thick as FUCK. 6 going on 7 inches but honestly you couldn’t give less of a fuck with the way he’s stretching you

surprisingly enough you managed your way through the phone call, telling the white lie of “helping the neighbors move”

but little did you know this was only the beginning of hitoshi’s new favorite pastime

he’s another exhibitionist too

so uh...good luck with that

remote control vibrators on dinner dates, fingers stuffed deep inside your sloppy cunt while he makes small talk with your mom at the dinner table,

even kneeling beneath your desk and sending you to heaven and back while you’re on a video call with your fucking boss.

he’s addicted to watching you fall apart, and is more than willing to apply that pressure.

𝘥𝘢𝘣𝘪:

dabi’s dick would fuck anyone stupid.

let’s make that clear.

it’s canon that he’s got a jacob’s ladder, blah blah blah, but let’s discuss how fucking pretty it is

creeping in at a firm eight inches, and about 4 and a half in girth with a drool-worthy mauve tip, his shaft slightly lighter than the rest of his tanned, unscarred skin

it’s dangerous, barbells running up the underside of his shaft or not

definitely into temperature play

and i’m not talking about that soft shit like warming up his fingers whilst they’re plunging in and out of your sweet center

no no no

that fucker will BRAND you and will not apologize

you’re his pretty little cumdump, and he’ll stake his claim upon your body how ever the hell he pleases

degradation is a given.

“—what a fuckin’ whore. tch, you really think you deserve this dick?”

“how about you get on your knees and beg for it then if you’re so damn needy.”

“quit your god damn whining, or i swear i’ll leave you spread out on this fuckin’ bar for shiggy to find. maybe i’ll even get a promotion for giving him such a slutty little bitch to use.”

“what’s wrong? does it hurt sweetheart? can’t take it after you talked all that shit earlier?” you shake your head no, thighs trembling as you struggle to maintain the position dabi’s folded you into. “...good.” he smirks, eyes gleaming with malice before pounding you to filth, cries spilling from your mouth as you beg for release, knowing he won’t give it to you.

making you cry? a specialty of dabi’s. your tears get him harder than anything; to watch your lips quiver as you sniffle, wiping away tears while he palms himself through his sweats

has shown you off to shigaraki, and will not hesitate to tongue your fluids off his digits while carrying on a full conversation with the other man.

after all, when you know your toy’s better than someone else’s, you tend to brag.

𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘪:

speaking of this mf

he’s the reason gamer boys get the rep of having massive dicks

cause god damn did you not expect this man to be slinging around eight bordering on nine inches of dick. four and a half to five inches of girth. poor you.

he’s also got a penchant for angry sex, so if that’s not enough of an indication that you’re going to have trouble walking afterwards i don’t know what is

but one thing he loves more than taking you apart piece by piece and cumming inside of you with zero remorse?

doing it when he’s in the middle of a game, and he’s online with the party’s voice chat.

“mmm—god, you really will do anything i tell you....swallowing every inch while these guys get to listen, and you’re not even embarrassed, you’re getting off on it!”

“i love little sluts like you, always doing whatever it takes just to have a cock pry them open at all times. that’s what you are, right? my little slut, made for me to do whatever i want to.”

yes, he’s made you whine so sweetly for him, cry as you beg him to touch you, while he plays fucking valorant.

and you can’t count how many times he’s mocked the way you gag and choke on his massive length while he played genshin impact with random guys online.

is a sucker for a good set of nudes, and isn’t afraid to ask for them on a regular basis

plus he just likes taking pictures/videos of you in general, saving them to a private album of his phone for him to use when you’re not there

he may parade you around as though you’re a lifeless fuckdoll, but if nothing else he’s possessive, and would rather relive the pain of losing to all might than let another man see you the way he does

but i’ll be honest, tomura’s not always a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a huge dick.

he’s also a teasing, possessive, vindictive asshole with a thing for being dominated....and a huge dick.

see, it balances out!

it started with a bet that if he lost another round of mortal kombat you got to peg him

it took a lot of convincing, but he agreed to the terms, certain he’d win regardless

and after button smashing like your life depended on it with subzero, you managed to secure the win.

a grin stapled itself to your face after being treated to two hours of tomura’s incessant sobs and wails

“mhm—please...i can’t take it—ah! fuck, fuck, fuck! right there!”

“don’t make me work for it, i promise you’ll never be player two again, just please let me cum—m’ so close..”

game nights are always fun with him, you can count on it.

𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴:

my god my god

i’m gonna say it right now: keigo doesn’t eat pussy for you.

he does it for him.

and that makes all the difference in the fucking world when he’s pulling you to sit on his face

scruff scratching at your inner thighs deliciously as he makes you squirt alllll over aforementioned facial hair, rolling your hypersensitive clit between soft lips and a fluid tongue

he could stay between your thighs for hours and hours on end

will propose to devour you in the most inappropriate of places

and honestly? isn’t the least bit ashamed about it. elevators, in front of large office windows just a few stories above the street where you’re just barely visible to the people below,

on endeavor’s decorative towels after he spread them out on the floor so he could fuck you senseless on top of them, etc.

the flame hero had pissed him off earlier, and he needed to exert some petty rage. this was most sensible use of his energy.

also in case it wasn’t obvious: breeding kink. duh.

no thoughts head empty just hawks begging to breed you during his rut

“come on pretty girl, let me make you a momma....can’t wait to stuff you full of my chicks....”

he blushes so deeply when he’s close to cumming

and boy does he fucking whine

dick is just as pretty as he is, he’s a good 6 inches with a three inch girth; tip flushed and pink

definitely cherishes intimacy during sex

and will certainly go out of his way to make sure you feel comfortable/desired

he could have all the money/fame in the world

and it still wouldn’t compare to the feeling of your thighs suffocating him while he slurps at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

[yesimwriting]

All The Good Dreams

A/n this one is based on a request from @ateliefloresdaprimavera who requested a fic where General Kirigan has been dreaming of the reader for as long as he can remember and that’s one of his few reasons to smile and the reader has been having the same kinds of dreams about him and when they meet they just know. 

This one is being written in third person bc it’s the only way I can see this fic being done but I’m a little insecure about writing in third person so be gentle lol

Also a little personal update I’ve been working on my original novel and it’s coming together y’all!!

--

ALEKSANDER. 

The morning sunlight seems to only come to take her from him, peaking through the curtains and stirring him awake and away from his dreams. Aleksander keeps his eyes closed for a moment longer, trying to will her features to remain in his mind. She had looked more angelic in last night’s dream, dressed in all white and watching him with an adoration he doubted real life could duplicate. 

The girl has haunted his dreams like a ghost of promise since before he began to change the world. Since before anything in his life was solidified. He lets out a sigh, something similar to a smile playing at his lips. Thinking of her would not bring her to him, if he could manifest her, she’d be by his side right now. He has things to do, duties and obligations that will bring his final goal closer. Each day is a step closer to victory, and each night brings the promise of dreams. The promise of her. 

--

Y/N.

“Y/n.” The voice is gentle and distant. “Y/n,” a little harsher. “Wake up, you’ll be late.” 

Fighting against grogginess, y/n wakes up, eyes squinting open. “What time is it, Danna?” 

“Late.” Danna’s reply is curt as she steps away from y/n’s cot. “I thought you were awake already and then I came in to look for my boots and you were still asleep with that ridiculously peaceful look.” Danna paces around the room. “You must have been dreaming of your prince again?” 

Y/n feels her skin warm. “He’s not a prince!” It’s a weak defense. “I regret telling you that almost every time I dream I see the same man.” 

Danna drops down, grabbing her worn boots and pulling them on quickly. “You’re making me believe in soulmates, l/n.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, sitting up and placing her feet on the ground at her own leisure. “It’s nothing like that--I’m not even sure he exists.” 

Lacing her shoes, Danna narrows her eyes at y/n. “Sure.” Y/n opens her mouth to protest, but Danna beats her to it, “If you need to argue with me, do it while getting dressed, we can’t be late today--General Kirigan’s visiting this camp for the first time and I doubt he’d appreciate being interrupted by a non-Grisha medic.” 

At that, y/n wrinkles her nose, but she stands anyway. “Ugh...Grisha.” She walks towards her uniform. “They can get away with anything and I hear Kirigan’s the worst of all of them because he’s in the same order as the Black Heretic that began all of this.” Y/n pauses, crossing her arms. “And it’s ridiculous that the army even needs non-Grisha medics. Healers exist and they should not be primarily reserved for other Grisha who rarely get injured, especially to the extent that the rest of us do.” 

“I know, y/n, but don’t speak like that until the General is gone.” Danna draws her lips into a thin line. “And hurry up before you get us both in trouble.” 

Y/n lets out a sigh. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up.”

Danna eyes her friend wearily. “Alright, worse comes to worse I’ll try to cover for you.” 

“You won’t need to.” Y/n isn’t sure she believes herself. “I’ll be there.” 

Danna pulls on her second boot, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t really believe you.” She stands easily. “But knowing you, you’ll talk yourself out of any trouble the way you always do.” 

“I do not always talk myself out of trouble.” 

Turning to leave, Danna pauses, “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes. If she had more time to argue with Danna she would take it. But she doesn’t. She’s quick to get dressed, thoughts of the mysterious stranger from her dreams keeping her company. Last night he seemed more tired than normal, a crease between his dark eyebrows as he sat by her side. A part of her she keeps buried worries about him. It’s ridiculous, to concern yourself over a figment of comfort your mind created for you. 

By the time y/n’s changed, she knows she doesn’t have much time to get to her station. She’s rushing out of her tent, one boot still untied. The medic bag she slings over her shoulder swings as she jogs towards the medical tent. Today the camp is hectic, everyone desiring to appear efficient and reliable for General Kirigan. It’s all ridiculous to Y/n. General Kirigan will never be impressed by them. If he’s revered even among Grisha, Y/n can’t imagine the superiority complex that man must possess.

Her eyes scan the soldiers and workers she knows so well, each of them behaving so differently than normal. There is no friendly chatter this morning, no casual banter. There is only the business of war. 

Y/n watches the people she knows, so focused on their nerves that she barely registers the person she crashes into. “Sorry!” The apology leaves Y/n on instinct.  Her bag falls off her shoulder, gauze and antiseptic falling onto the ground on impact. Y/n bends down instantly, beginning to pick up her supplies. She mentally curses herself for being so easily distracted and not properly shutting her bag this morning. “Everything’s so hectic today and I was running late and I just--I have no idea how I didn’t see you.” She drops her supplies back into her bag. “I guess it’s a good thing they keep me off the battlefield and in the medical tents.” 

Reaching for the last of her supplies, Y/n’s eyes land on the shoes of the person she just crashed into. They’re leather. The fine kind of leather meant for marble halls, not trekking through the unknown. Y/n’s mouth goes dry as the possibility of the graveness of her mistake sets in her mind. She exhales slowly, daring to look upwards as she closes her bag. 

When her eyes meet those of the stranger, she is left with no choice but to gape. She’s not staring because she’s now at the mercy of General Kirigan. She’s not staring because nothing could have prepared her for his beauty. She’s staring because she knows that face. She knows those sharp features and steady eyes.

His lips are slightly parted. Y/n is struck with the odd thought that perhaps he too has words wedged into his throat. 

“It’s you.” The whisper leaves her faintly. 

The words seem to unfreeze Kirigan, his expression moving from shocked to stoic. “Excuse me?” 

Awkward regret floods through Y/n. She drops her head downwards, desperate to escape the power of his gaze. “General Kirigan.” She uses her words as a way to dismiss the emotions her chest seems to be brimming with as she stands. He’s not the man from her dreams. That’s impossible. “I apologize for my inappropriate behavior an--” 

“No, no,” he shakes his head once. Y/n bites her tongue at his dismissal. “You said ‘it’s you.’”

Embarrassment knots her stomach. “I just hadn’t realized that I ran into you, General. I--I knew you were coming today, but I wasn’t expecting to see you much less like this.” 

Kirigan’s eyes seem to be nothing more than inviting pools of kindling emotion. So familiar yet so distinct. He can’t be the man from her dreams. The man from her dreams must be nothing more than a composition of traits she finds generally attractive. General Kirigan just happens to possess those features. That explanation is the only thing that keeps Y/n’s feet rooted to the ground, but the longer she looks at him the more that explanation loses its strength. There’s just something so knowing behind his expression, so specific to the face that she’s only seen while asleep. 

Tearing his gaze away to scan the area, Kirigan reaches forward, placing a hand on Y/n’s arm. The touch leaves Y/n warmer than it should. Maybe that’s why she lets him lead her forward, ducking into an empty medical tent. She keeps hold of her bag as he turns, his eyes full of something dark and unknown. But not angry, Y/n notes, no, not angry. The look is too peaceful for rage, perhaps even hopeful. 

“When you looked at me…” He exhales, voice low and sacred, “You said ‘it’s you’.” Y/n can only blink, still mesmerized by something so foreign and familiar all at once. “Do you know me?” 

In his urgency, Kirigan’s hold on Y/n’s arm becomes more assured. Something in Y/n wants to pry herself free in order to prove to herself that she’s capable of resisting his drawl. But his touch is not to trap her, the look in his eyes tells her that. His touch is pleading--desperate and hopeful. 

“Everyone knows you,” when Y/n finally finds her voice, she is not convinced it is her own. 

The corners of Kirigan’s mouth fall downwards, something in him threatening to deflate. “I meant--have you seen me before?” The question is not one Y/n is too willing to answer. How could she tell this strange man, this general she was convinced she’d dislike on some fundamental level while never speaking to him, that she knows him? She knows him like she knows her own beginning. “Because I’ve seen you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way her eyes widen. This doesn’t mean anything, she warns herself, he could have seen her walking. “I didn’t see you, that--that’s why I ran into you--” 

“No, you’re avoiding the question.” Her face is warmer than it was when Danna was teasing her this morning. It’s warmer than it’s ever been. “Because you’ve experienced it as well.” 

The swelling in her chest is overwhelming. “Experienced what?” 

Kirigan eyes the entrance to the tent once more, confirming that no one is approaching. “All of the good dreams,” he exhales, “They have been of you.” 

Y/n can’t help the way everything in her melts. She’s not insane. She’s not projecting something dangerous onto the Shadow Summoner. “I see you in my dreams always.” 

Slowly, he releases his grip on her arm. Watching her like she might be a mirage, Kirigan raises his hand, brushing his knuckles along Y/n’s cheek. She lets him, holding her breath until his hand falls back to his side. A part of Kirigan expected the girl to be a trick of the light, something that his touch would reveal to be a fallacy. But she remains true, watching him with eyes the size of saucers. 

“How long I’ve been waiting for you, you’ll never know.” His voice is as heavy as a lament. 

Y/n feels her back straighten slightly on instinct, desperate to pass whatever scrutiny is being passed over her. “How--how does this happen? How do two strangers dream of each other for so long and...” 

Something knowing colors his smile a shade of ambitious green. “What is your name?” 

“Y/n.” 

Kirigan’s minds flit through lifetimes worth of faint memories. The girl laughing, the girl teary eyed, the girl embodying all the stars he’ll never have, the girl representing all he needs. Y/n. There’s finally a name to her. 

“Y/n,” the name is a gift. Kirigan pulls a ring from his fingers before grabbing Y/n’s arm. Too lost in a strange euphoria, she lets him pull her arm forward before pressing his ring into her skin. Her brow furrows as he begins to guide the metal down her skin. That slight confusion quickly turns to total shock as a thread of light begins to spindle down her skin, following the path he’s creating with the ring. “You and I are going to change the world.” 

--

General Taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper @grishaverse7 @lonelystarship @mentally-in-northern-italy @uhanddreag @kaitlyn2907

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

🥺 babe 🥺 bAbE

What if Jask gets sick at Kaer Morhen but tries to hide it from Geralt bc he doesn't want him to think he's gross/weak/etc? And Geralt has the Feelings Braincell for once?

oh babe... thank you

tw: sickness, falling unconscious, fever, whump/angst with a happy ending

---

Jaskier knew he had a fever the moment he woke up. He could feel it burning beneath this skin like a forge, flushing his face a more vibrant shade of pink than usual. He glared at his reflection in the small, round mirror above his dressing table and willed himself to feel better. It was his first winter at Kaer Morhen, and he didn’t want Geralt to think he’d made a mistake by inviting Jaskier along to stay. The bard knew that his stoic, self-loathing Witcher would blame himself immediately for any misfortune or illness that befell Jaskier. Geralt might even reconsider inviting him back again someday. So he had to keep his little bug a secret until he was well. Surely it was nothing major. Surely it would pass after a few days, unnoticed and unremarkable.

He should have known better.

Jaskier dabbed a bit more perfume than usual (which was generally none at all) beneath his ears and along his wrists. He hoped the peony-lavender mixture would mask whatever kind of scent his illness might carry and slowly, carefully made his way down the long stone staircase that led from the guest bedroom to the enormous kitchen. His limbs felt achy and tired, even though he’d slept heavily the night previous. His head sat heavy and unbalanced atop his shoulders; the world wavered and spun around him as he desperately tried to keep from pitching sideways into the wall. 

“You alright there, boy?” Vesemir asked, catching his eye from the bottom of the stairs. “You seem a bit… nervous.”

Maybe his anxiety was doing a better job of hiding his secret than the perfume. 

“Just a little wool between my ears this morning,” the bard laughed brightly, ignoring the searing pain that throbbed through his chest with the movement, “I think I might go chop some wood and see if the brisk mountain air helps clear it out faster.”

“Hmm,” the eldest Wolf nodded sagely. There was no doubt which teacher Geralt had admired most as a pup. “Alright. Be safe, take care. I’ll send someone to fetch you when breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you, Vesemir,” Jaskier bowed shallowly and headed for the kitchen’s back door. He took the axe into his hands and tried not to sway on his feet from the added weight. The bard covered his tracks by throwing a smile back over his shoulder and pushing the door open. “See you for breakfast!”

He stepped out of the keep and let the heavy slab of wood slam shut behind him. The early morning sky above Kaer Morhen was cloudless and the sun was bright, blinding him entirely. His situation only worsened when the sudden change in temperature, from the warm kitchen to the freezing mountainside, punched the air from his lungs in one thick cloud. He struggled to regain it as he wove his way through the snow drifts to the woodpile. Slowly, and with great effort, Jaskier lined up a thick log to be split.

The world felt watery and far away. His hand, which he knew to be attached to the end of his arm by some miracle, would not obey his command to pick up the axe again. His lungs felt heavy in his chest cavity and his legs suddenly ached with a fierce intensity. 

With a quiet cry of protest against his own body failing him, Jaskier collapsed into the snow.

---

Jaskier’s heartbeat was so slow and quiet, his limbs unmoving and his lips nearly blue from the cold; Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever been so scared before in his life. He turned to Vesemir and asked, barely keeping the frantic terror from clawing its way out of his throat: “How long was he out there?” 

“Half an hour at most,” the grey Wolf shrugged. “I don’t really remember, Geralt. I was busy taking care of the breakfast arrangements.”

“Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Eskel ordered. He frowned at Geralt from his place at Jaskier’s opposite side. He’d helped carry the bard from the courtyard to Geralt’s room and was just as worried about the human’s wellbeing. “Panicking won’t help him. Now, what’s the problem?”

“It’s hard to tell over all that stupid perfume,” Lambert snarled. “Stupid fucking bard fucking knew we would be able to smell it on him. He covered his gods-damned tracks.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt murmured, having grown suddenly calm. He let the back of his knuckles drag softly across the bard’s too-hot cheek until he could stick a stray lock of sweaty brown hair back behind his ear. “You idiot.”

The bard shifted against the blanket they’d laid him on, his brow wrinkling. His arms twitched slightly, as if he was trying to move them, and he whined plaintively: “G’ralt.”

“I’m here, Jask,” the Witcher replied quickly, forgetting they weren’t alone in the room. He took one of the bard’s freezing hands into his own and began rubbing the warmth back into his fingers. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you better. You’ll be alright.”

“Who are you trying to reassure?” Lambert huffed a short laugh. “You or the bard?”

“Leave off,” Eskel shot his younger brother a glare. The redhead rolled his eyes and moved to lean against the wall near the door. Eskel continued speaking to Lambert, but his eyes were back on Jaskier, who kept trying to get closer to Geralt even in his sleep. “Why don’t you go grab some clean clothes from his room while we get him warmed up and conscious again.”

“Fine,” Lambert spat. But he took off at a quick trot, regardless.

“Geralt, get his wet clothes off and get him wrapped up. Eskel, you come with me to the kitchen. I’ll need help carrying things and I’m sure the bard would prefer some privacy in this particular matter.”

Eskel nodded his agreement and followed Vesemir from the room, leaving Geralt alone with Jaskier. The White Wolf hurried to undress and swaddle the bard with a warm, heavy wool blanket and several furs, talking all the while in a low, worried voice. “Fuck, Jaskier. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this happened and that you- Why did you hide it? Why wouldn’t you- Are you afraid of me? Is that why you didn’t come to me for help?”

Jaskier’s lids fluttered open and Geralt watched with nervous anticipation as two of the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, blue as cornflowers and brighter than the spring sky, tried their best to focus on his face. “Geralt?”

“I’m here, Jaskier. What’s ailing you? Please, tell me how I can help you.”

“Hurts,” the bard managed to groan. “To breathe.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growled. “We need to get you warm. Lambert should be back with your clothes by now.”

Jaskier’s head lolled back against the pillow and he struggled to reach for his Witcher, “Hold me.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll warm up-” he gasped between words, as if every syllable pained him to expel “-faster if… you hold me.”

“Hmm,” Geralt’s brows furrowed in frustration. He knew Jaskier was right, that he’d feel better faster with skin-on-skin contact, but he also wanted to hold Jaskier for other, less emergency-based reasons. That was unacceptable. Losing Jaskier to death or sickness or other human reasons was intolerable but losing him, in all senses of the word, because of Geralt’s impossible feelings? That would be truly horrendous.

The warring factions of his heart were still clamoring over a decision when Eskel and Vesemir re-entered carrying two large trays. One was covered with foodstuffs and the other held an enormous clay teapot and mugs. A small pot of honey, gathered from Vesemir’s very own beehives, was the most obvious sign of affection Geralt had ever seen the older man display for a near-stranger. 

“I’m gonna… get… spoiled,” Jaskier gasped. The eldest Wolf shot Geralt a glare. 

“Why aren’t you in there with him? You know the best way to warm up a hypothermic person is skin contact, Geralt! I certainly taught you better than this.”

“I didn’t-” he stuttered. “I wasn’t-”

“He’s afraid,” Jaskier smiled sadly, cuddling himself deeper into the furs as he turned his gaze towards the fire. All three of the Witchers could smell his sadness, even more potent than the illness ravaging his delicate human body. Geralt winced when his brother and father glared at him in tandem, expressions nearly matching in fury. The bard was still looking away, watching the flames send dancing patterns of light against the stone walls. “Don’t worry… won’t ask… for any more.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. “May I hold you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s our cue to leave,” Vesemir smiled beneath his mustache. Jaskier was too tired to blush, and opted to bury his head in Geralt’s shoulder instead. “Come along, Eskel. Let’s see what Lambert has gotten up to.”

“What about Jaskier’s clothes?”

“He can borrow Geralt’s for now. I’m sure our White Wolf won’t mind sharing; he’s the possessive type, after all.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and grumbled out of habit more than disagreement. 

When Vesemir and Eskel had gone for good and the door was closed, Geralt pulled Jaskier out of the furs and removed his own shirt. He settled the bard against his chest and buried his nose in Jaskier’s dark hair, breathing in the scents of sweat and sickness and now, thank the gods, tangy-bright happiness. “Gods, Jaskier. Don’t scare me like that ever again. I can’t lose you.”

“I didn’t… want… to disappoint.”

“You never do and never will,” Geralt intoned. He pulled the furs over them both and splayed his large hands across Jaskier’s back. The bard’s skin was overly hot in some places and freezing in others; Geralt buried his panic in order to care for... for the man he loved. He took a deep breath and rubbed slow circles between the bard’s shoulder blades. “I… I love you, Jaskier.”

“Hmm,” the bard hummed tunelessly. “Love you… too.”

Geralt helped him sit up and drink a mug of tea. He listened, slowly allowing himself to relax, as Jaskier’s breathing eased and his heartbeat balanced. When the tea was gone and the fire was re-built to Geralt’s satisfaction, the Witcher tucked Jaskier’s head beneath his chin and wrapped his arms around the bard’s shoulders. “Oh, my little lark. I’ve been so foolish for too long.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier grinned into the Witcher’s warm pectoral. “Me... too.”

“Well, we’ll have plenty of time when you feel better,” Geralt murmured, lips pressing over and over to the top of the bard’s head. Jaskier couldn’t keep himself from smiling, even as he drifted back to sleep. The Witcher felt something settle in his chest when he whispered: “Rest up, dear heart. There are many more adventures to be had.”

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??” 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

[uwuwriting]

Breaking in w/ Hawks, Shoto and Dabi

Request: I read another post about ppl breaking in your shared house with the boys not knowing that you are inside and hurting you and I was like well this would be interesting with their kids in the mix. So i'm here to provide you with the following request ppl breaking in and immobilizing you while you're still awake and they try to go into your kids’ room with Shoto, Hawks and maybe Dabi or Aizawa- anonymous 

Oh this is a nice little concept. It's very interesting. I’m happy to deliver. I have been devastated by chapter 290, if anyone hurts Shoto imma start a riot and if Dabi doesn’t kill Endeavor i will. I’m thinking of making a double post today so this one and a kny post but we’ll see. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: cursing, mentions of blood, crying but fluff in the end. 

Hawks/Keigo Takami

-You were waiting for Keigo to come home after a long day. 

-The twins were a nightmare to put to bed today and you were exhausted. 

-Both of them wanted Keigo to tuck them in for some weird reason and they just wouldn’t accept your cuddles or attempts. 

-So after a tiresome two hours of trying and failing to calm them down you called your husband on facetime and they went to bed. 

- “I’ll be home soon, do you want me to bring you anything?”

- “No, no just you.” 

-So after taking a shower and checking on the kids you relaxed on the couch, turning on the TV while scrolling though tik tok. 

-Not even half an hour later you heard jiggling coming through the door. 

-Assuming it was Keigo you got up and went to greet him but who you met at the entrance of your house was a complete stranger. 

-You and the two bulgars stared at each other for a solid minute before you scrambled to get to the kids’ room and lock yourself in there. 

-But one of them tackled you to the floor before you could reach the pastel colored door and pinned you down, binding your hands with a cloth. 

- “I thought you said he wasn’t here man? What is this?”

-They had tied your legs to a chair, putting a makeshift gag in your mouth so you wouldn’t scream as they bickered back and forth. 

-Your eyes kept darting from the front door to your kids’ room.

-He said he was almost home, he should be here at any moment. 

- “Just stick to the plan, she doesn’t change anything.”

- “Doesn’t change anything? You tackled the n. 2 heros’ partner and you think that nothing is gonna happen?”

-You couldn’t care less about their words as you saw the light of the baby monitor light up.

-Eyes widening, you tried to get out of your  restraints to turn it off but to no avail, the soft babbles of your son could be heard coming from the device sending the whole room into an uncomfortable silence. 

-Before you know it, the one that tackled you pushed his partner towards you. 

- “Keep her in check while I go pay a visit to the other room.” 

-Managing to get the gag out of your mouth, your eyes frantic, you tried to reason with him. 

- “I’ll give you whatever you want just stay away from that door, please.” 

- “The number 2 hero has plenty of money. I bet he would be willing to give a handsome amount for that brat in there. What do you say babycakes? 

- “Dude you’re taking it too far-” 

- “Stay away from them!” 

-You realized your mistake a little too late, the new information making the man's eyes light up.

-Two cries came from the twins’ room due to the commotion and your panic rose. 

-But then you saw it. 

-The single feather hovering over the mans’ head, as red and vibrant as ever. 

-You let out a sigh of relief as a wave of red feathers flooded your living room, cutting you free from your restraints. 

-Without missing a beat you sprinted to the door, stepping inside and locking it. 

-Both of them were awake and teary eyed but at the sight of you they calmed down a bit. 

-Taking them out of their cribs, you sat in the far corner with both of them in your lap waiting for the moment Keigo would knock on your door. 

-One would assume that being part of the hero industry, although you weren’t a full blown hero yourself, mere bulgars wouldn’t really faze you. 

-In reality you hadn’t been afraid for your own life, you couldn’t care less about yourself at that moment, but when you realized that they knew about the twins everything slowly fell apart.  

-After what seemed like an eternity a soft knock came from the locked door. 

- “Y/N, dove, open up.”

-Raising to your feet, you almost ripped the door handle out of position in your rush. 

-Once Keigo came into view you didn’t miss a beat before pressing yourself close to his chest, the twins just happy to see their dad. 

- “There are my favorite Takamis!” he said kissing their heads as his wings enclosed all of you. 

- “Dove they are gone, don’t worry. I’m here. We’re alright.” 

-The news report the next morning said that two men were found on the top of the police department butt naked. 

Todoroki Shoto

-Poor man had merely gone to get take out. 

-He hadn’t been gone for that long. 

-But apparently the villains had been waiting for him to leave the house so they could go in. 

-You were still inside with your daughters; the twins chasing each other in their matching onesies while you sat on the living room couch with your youngest.

-You heard the front door open suddenly and at first you assumed that Shoto had forgotten his wallet again.

-But the footsteps were too heavy and his voice didn’t echo through the entrance hall. 

-He always said something when he came in and his footsteps have become lighter ever since the girls were born. 

-Sensing that something was off you placed your toddler in her crib and motioned towards the twins. 

- “Stay with your sister and no matter what you hear you do NOT come into the hallway. Understood?”

- “But what-”

- “Rei do I make myself clear?” 

-Nodding their heads they took their seats in front of the crib, Ren squeezing her hand through the bars to gently grab her sister's chubby hand. 

-Taking a deep breath you entered the hallway and lo and behold, two strangers were staring back at you. 

- “Can I help you gentlemen?” 

-After a few seconds the one closest to the door flung himself at you while the other one started digging through his pockets. 

-Swiftly dodging the attack, you grabbed his wrist and swang him with incredible force to the wall, letting go of him as you turned your attention to the other one. 

-And then you felt a sharp pain course up your right leg as a heaviness settled on your chest. 

-The room began to spin while the air was knocked out of your lungs.

-You kneeled down, hand over your heart as you tried to use your quirk. 

-Nothing happened though; it was like you didn’t have one at all. 

- “Quirk cancelling bullets, aren’t they neat?” 

-The man stared down at you as ever so slowly your senses came back at you. 

- “I can still beat your ass even without a quirk.”

- “I don’t think you’ll do that.”

-Angry voices could be heard from the other room before the man you had slammed into the wall appeared again, blood dripping from his nose and onto the snow white hair of your daughter.

-Ren looked at you, tears forming in her eyes as a red flash of hair jumped onto the man. 

-Rei was having none of it.

-Taking that opportunity you kicked the one in front of you in the groin before separating the girls from the other, sprinting into the living room, closing the sliding doors behind you. 

-Laying the girls on the couch you grabbed one of the fireplace tools and got into a fighting position. 

-Soon enough the door opened revealing none other than Shoto himself.

- “Are you all alright? Did they hurt you?”

-He looked absolutely disheveled, his hair going in different directions as his gaze frantically scanned all four of you, his eyes lingering at your slightly raised leg. 

-The twins hopped off the couch and tackled his legs. 

-Shoto crouched down hugging them both tightly as they started to sniffle into their dad’s chest. 

- “T-they hurt mama and t-tried to hurt Ren.”

-He shot you a look but you waved him off, deciding to instead check on the baby before joining them on the living room floor. 

- “I won’t let them touch you ever again, even if it's the last thing I do.”

Dabi/Touya Todoroki *I ain't never letting this go*

-In reality the dudes didn’t know you were preggos. 

-You were too early on so you couldn’t tell you were preggo but still. 

-They knew that you had something going with Dabi and that’s why they wanted to fuck with you. 

-They thought that they would gain something from trying * key word trying * to take you.

-They were wrong though because a) they got their asses kicked by you and b) they got fried once Dabi found them. 

-You were chilling at Dabis’ while he was out to get you some mustard and a chocolate bar because cravings, when you heard the door open. 

-Immediately you knew it wasn’t Dabi. 

-You would’ve heard him grumbling under his breath about forgetting to take money with him * bc you have been pushing him to pay for stuff every once in a  while* or he would be shouting at you that your disgusting meal had arrived. 

-Neither of these things happened so something was up. 

-Not bothering to get up because you didn’t give two fucks, you waited for whoever stepped inside the apartment to show themselves. 

-You are a villain hun you ain’t about to stress over some crusty ass dude trespassing into your house because you could obliterate his ass from the face of the earth in negative five seconds. 

-Whispers and a frantic “But what if he comes back?” was all you heard before the ground breaking phrase left their mouth. 

- “Who cares? She’s a woman, how strong can she be anyways?”

-You were livid. 

-It might have been a mix of your hormones along with the fact that that was hella sexist but you were ready to beat some crusty ass. 

-Laying down on the couch and pretending to be asleep you waited for them. 

-And soon enough you felt the three figures standing over you. 

- “See easy as hell.” 

- “And hot as hell, please don’t forget that.” 

-All three of them stared down at you like that pikachu meme for a solid minute before scrambling to activate their quirks. 

- “We don’t wanna hurt a pretty girl like you so please don’t cause a fuss.” 

- “Oh baby you think you can hurt me? Please have you seen who I’m dating?” 

-Slowly standing up you flicked your wrist and one of them dropped to the floor. 

-You made your way to the kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water right when one of them ran into you, pinning you to the counter. 

- “Watch it there bud I’m carrying precious carg-”

- “Shut up you fucking slut! You’ll come with us whether you like it or not.” 

- “The only person who can boss me around is not currently in this room so I suggest you let go.” 

- “Yeah you should probably let her go.” 

-At the sound of his deep voice you knew that they were dead men. 

-The one basically on top of you stared at Dabi in horror as you pushed him off of you. 

-Making your way to your boyfriend you gave him a small peck while he rested a hand over you stomach as a silent ‘are you okay?’.

-Shrugging you took the bag from his hands and went into your bedroom, not caring to see what he was about to do to them. 

-You were hungry anyways. 

- “Now which one of you wants to be roasted first?”

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​  @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @bemorefiction​ @ezoyscorner​

[hobiiwan]

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

[writingtoforgetreality]

The Way You Make Me Feel (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Steve sent Bucky & you on a mission together. Nothing special, you worked well together, after all. This time, you had to go undercover. Pretending to be a couple. Your frustration after an unsuccessful night needed to be released. Bucky had something in mind.

Words: 3,137

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, oral sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, protected sex bc Buck’s a responsible person, this is pure filth, I don’t know what else you want me to say…, language, undercover mission gone wrong, I wanted to write angst??? What happened? …oopsie? I’ll go take a cold shower now.

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Bucky Barnes. Used to be the Winter Soldier. Now the White Wolf. Muscular body. Broad shoulders. That metal arm of his that did unspoken things to you. Basically, he had ruined every other man for you. Unfortunately, he was not yours. He never would be yours. Coworkers. You were coworkers. Nothing more, nothing less.

The teasing was a given. Both, Bucky & you, had personalities that made it impossible to not flirt with each other. It was all playful, of course. Nothing would ever come out of it. Though, you would have lied if you said that you did not wish for it to change. His strut so manly, so strong. Thank God he was oblivious to how your body reacted whenever he was around. Those accidental touches. His hand touching your lower back. Everything set your body on fire. If it was not enough for him to be so hot, of course he had the most charming smiles to top everything off. It was unfair.

It was even worse that the entire team had picked up on the way you eyed Bucky. How whenever he entered the room, your eyes could not fixate on anything else. How your smile got wider whenever he talked. No matter how hard you tried, you fell for him. Harder & harder each day. The chemistry between you guys was no secret. Which was why you usually got teamed up with Bucky to complete missions together. But that was all there ever was. Constant flirting, teasing. Anything beyond that did not exist.

Another mission with him. Undercover. Your absolute favorite. You would have been fine with Sam or anyone else for that matter. But Bucky? Things were bound to get complicated. It was inevitable. Posing as a couple? Really? As if things were not bad enough already. A couple usually shared a room. You understood that. The thing was that you guys were not together. Not outside of this mission. So you had to deal with your emotions for him while being in the exact same room. With one bed. Yeah, things were starting great. After finishing up here, you would kill Steve for sure. He knew about your crush on Bucky. Probably the reason he liked to send you somewhere together. Apparently, it was incredibly exhausting to watch you guys dance around your feelings. You were a lot of things. A dancer was not one of them. More like an observer. Watching from afar to avoid stupid mistakes. That was more fitting.

Gala number one was over. Without any luck. There was no new information & nothing that brought you closer to your target. Just hours of unnecessary pretending & fake laughing. That was exhausting. Especially if Bucky had to be close to you all night long. Always an arm around your waist. A kiss on the cheek for effect. If it were not for this stupid mission, you would have enjoyed every single second of it. Sadly, it was an act. That thought alone broke your heart into a million pieces. Not even you were sure when your feelings for Bucky started. It was like you were thrown into ice cold water all of a sudden & now you had to deal with the aftermath.

Unsuccessful missions always left you frustrated. This type of frustration that let you overthink every little detail. What if you did this? What if you did not do that? What if, what if, what if. Mind being filled with so many thoughts, it was barely possible to stay sane. Even worse, you still had a couple of nights ahead of you. If you did not finish this job then you should not head back. Great. If all nights turned out like this, you would throw yourself out of a window. No, really. You were exhausted.

His body language revealed how stressed he was as well. Completely tense, clenched jaw. He did not like it any more than you did. Truthfully, he was even angrier than you. While the two of you worked well together, when things did not go your way, it could get pretty heated real fast. Words thrown at each other’s heads. Blaming the other one for that particular thing because if that did not happen, then you would have finished this mission already. It took a few hours until the tension died down again. An apology later & you were back to normal.

Not today, it seemed. The two of you were worse after that gala. Maybe it was because you felt uncomfortable all night. Maybe it was because you had to stay here for however long. Maybe it was just him. Him acting like a shy gentleman. Like the husband obsessed with his wife. Wanting to show her off whenever the chance was given. Tonight, you were her. You were his wife. You were the one he wanted to show off. But you were not really her. Just a fraction, if anything. He pretended & so did you. At least that was what you told yourself. Deep down, it was so much more than just pretending. It was like giving in to a craving you had had for years. And while it was not much, it had to do. Had to be enough. Because that was the most you would ever receive. The most he would ever give you. How you wished this were not the case.

So why the hell was he staring even more intensely than usual? Why the hell did he eye you up & down like a hungry animal waiting for the perfect timing to attack its prey? Why the hell did his hands clench into fists? And why the hell did it affect you so much? So much, in fact, that your thighs pressed together involuntarily. An action that did not go unnoticed by him. Standing up, flexing his muscles. Eyes that looked darker in the barely lit room. His never leaving yours when he approached you carefully. He took his time. You knew he did it to give you enough time to escape this situation if you really wanted to. You did not, though. For once, you wanted to give in. For once, you wanted your body to fully feel. Feel him. All of him.

His body was only mere inches away from yours. The exposed skin on your back pressing against the cold wall of your hotel room. The dress did not cover much. Enough to keep the others interested. And apparently to keep him interested, too. Both of his arms came up to rest next to your head. By now, he was caging you with his entire body. An action that let goosebumps appear. You breathed the same air. It seemed like the time stood still. Everything that kept on was you & him. In that hotel room. Against the wall. If he decided to lower his head just a little, your lips would be touching. He did not. No. If this was about to happen then he wanted to take his time with you. Tease you. Hear you. Feel you. Your breathing picked up its pace. He had not even touched you yet but you were already reacting like this. His smirk showed you how much he truly enjoyed having you putty in his hands. One of his legs moved slightly. Until his knee opened your legs slowly. His thigh pressed against your center. Barely, barely enough pressure to give you any form of satisfaction. Yet, you could not help but whimper at his touch. To shut you up, he pressed his soft lips against yours in a passionate kiss. There was no hint of gentleness behind his actions. Just purely heated with a desperation that made you weak at the knees. You melted into his touch, your hands roaming all over his chest. Any way to bring him closer to your body. His metal hand found itself at your waist while his other one cupped your cheek. An almost tender action that balanced out his rough & relentless kiss. It was like he was your drug & now that you got a taste of him, you would never let go again.

When his hands brushed over your shoulders to push the straps of your dress down, your breath hitched in your throat. His mouth went down to your neck, sucking & gently biting every now & then. You moaned when he reached a certain spot. Staying at this place, he focused solely on it all while pushing your gown further down your curves. The moment it reached the floor, he took a step back to take in your full beauty. To him, you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on. Not wasting another second, he dropped to his knees in front of you. So close to where you wanted him the most. Where you needed him. His hands grabbed your hips tightly. It would sure leave bruises but you knew you would love looking at them after waking up. Because he did that to you. Kissing his way down your belly, he made sure to focus on his task. His eyes opened when he reached your panties. Silently asking for permission. You were too far gone already so you eagerly nodded at him, threading your hands through his soft locks. A slight push earned you a groan. One, that went straight to your pussy. But he would not give in that easily. After all, he had waited so long for this to happen. He would savor it in great detail. His flesh hand kneaded one of your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers. You were in a state of bliss & he had barely touched you. That was enough to let him know what he did to you. Before you could even process what he was doing, he pulled your panties off in one swift motion & slid his metal fingers through your slit. The coldness of it made your excitement grow even more. Usually, you would feel embarrassed by how wet you were. But this was Bucky. With him, it was different. An approving hum coming from him was enough confirmation. You had no need to be ashamed.

His fingers worked slowly, almost lazily. He knew how to push your buttons. By the way he touched you, so skilled, with such certainty, it was like he knew your body better than you did. Bucky encouraged you to be noisy, he wanted to hear you. The sweet moans, the whimpers, that he caused. He was the reason for them. Finally, he found your clit & put more pressure on it. Rubbing it in a steady motion. You could feel your orgasm building up already. You wanted to warn him, wanted to let him know that you needed a tiny bit more. He got the message when you pulled his hair tighter. While his finger stayed on your bundle of nerves, his head dipped lower, using his tongue to eat you out. And holy shit. That man knew what he was doing. He was so skilled, you assumed he had had tons of women before you. Right now, you could not care less. Your entire focus was on his ministrations & how his tongue entering you mixed with his fingers on your clit brought you higher & higher. Gripping his hair harder made him groan into you. That was all it took for you to let go. Your thighs shook & if it were not for Bucky steadying you, you would have fallen to the floor. For a few seconds, your vision was all blurry. That had never happened before. All the people who you had been with had never managed to satisfy you quite like this.

Again, his lips met yours. This time, you could taste yourself on them. And if it were possible, it turned you on even more. Both of his hands went to the back of your thighs, lifting you up with ease. He walked over to the bed & laid you down gently. All while his lips stayed locked onto yours. He propped himself up on his arms in order not to crush you with his weight. It was only then when you realized that he was still entirely dressed. Which was not really fair, considering that you were completely bare in front of him. Your hands went to open the buttons of his shirt but since you were still shaky after that first mind blowing orgasm he gave you, you could not quite succeed with that. A low chuckle escaped Bucky & his face left yours to help you out. His frantic actions showed you how he did not want to waste any more time. You barely had enough time to appreciate his body in its full glory. His muscles. His soft skin. Bucky knew what he wanted & he wanted it now.

He topped you, this time you opened your legs for him to slip in between. The kisses grew more & more passionate. But before you could get lost into it once again, he pulled away from you entirely. Your eyes opened, concern written all over your features. Bucky shushed you before you had the chance to ask if you did something wrong. Crossing the room in no time, he came back with a condom in his hand. The wink he sent you made you breathe easier. So he was not about to leave you. Opening the package, he took one of his arms to stroke over his thick cock. Sitting up, you kissed him while taking the condom from him. Your hand grabbed his wrist & you replaced his with yours, mimicking his previous motions. He groaned lowly & you smirked at his reaction. Twisting your hands just right, you picked up your pace. By the way his breath got heavier, you assumed that he was enjoying it. Suddenly, he pushed you away from him. Not hard, just so you would get the message. You knew what he was getting at. Giving him another short peck, you rolled the condom on & laid back down on the mattress. He followed your motions & set himself between your legs again. One arm on each side of your head as to not hurt you. His tip teased your entrance. Slowly sliding up & down to gather you slickness. Whenever he touched your clit, a moan left your mouth. That went on for a while. After all, Bucky made it his job to tease you. When the whimpers got too much, he asked you a simple question. In that deep, lust-filled voice of his.

“What do you want, doll?” you knew what he was trying to do. He wanted you to beg for him. But you were not that type of person. Not usually. Bucky was the exception. And he only had to ask that question twice before you gave in, the frustration clearly audible.

“Please, Buck. Please, I need you.” that did the job. In one swift motion, he entered you, filling you up so painfully right. That familiar, delicious sting. He stilled for a second. While he knew that he wanted to make this rough, he did not want to hurt you in any way. So he let you adjust to his size. Only when you moved your hips slightly & when you moaned out his name did he start his thrusts.

At first, he set a steady pace. Long, deep thrust that made your breasts bounce in the sweetest way possible. Not once did he close his eyes. No, he wanted to remember everything about this. Everything about you. You being under him. It did not take long for you to beg him for more. Giving in, he quickened his thrusts. Now, much deeper than before. He reached places inside of you you did not even know existed. The entire bed was moving & for once, you did not care if anybody heard you. All that mattered was the man on top of you. The man who made you feel like this. Like you were a goddess that needed to be devoured. During this moment, you felt like the prettiest woman on Earth. Bucky made you feel like that. You hated your body’s reaction to him. Because you could already feel your second orgasm building up. You did not want this to end so soon. You did not want to let go. But you knew you could not hold it back. Not much longer. Not if Bucky kept going like this. Somehow trying to signal that you were close, Bucky got an idea. His entire weight was now on his right arm while his metal one made its way between your bodies. Before he touched you there, he gave you an order. One that you could not help but obey.

“Open your eyes, doll. I wanna see you cum for me.” he said it in such a sexy way, barely above a whisper, but loud enough for you to understand that he was serious. So you did. You opened your eyes, locking them with his. That was when his metal fingers started rubbing fast circles around your clit. The noises coming from you got louder & louder. You were so close. When his thrusts did not slow down, you knew you would be there soon. The last bit it took came from Bucky, lips brushing your over your cheek, breathing another order in your ear.

“Cum for me. Yeah, that’s it. Cum all around me.” you had never heard something so hot coming from him. His words brought you over the edge. For the second time tonight, you saw dark spots clouding your vision. Bucky watching you cum under him made him reach his high as well. He bit your shoulder when he did. The pain mixed beautifully with the ecstasy you were currently experiencing.

He stilled inside of you, the two of you breathing heavily. You had never felt this satisfied after sleeping with someone. Slipping out of you, he rolled onto his side, propping his head onto his arm. There it was again. His charming smile. While he was a shy, polite gentleman outside of this room, he sure as hell did not hold back in bed. And you were glad that he did not. Smiling at him, too, he leaned in one more time for another kiss. This time, it was soft. Delicate. Not like the ones you shared only a few minutes ago. This sweet, romantic moment got interrupted when Bucky gripped your hips & rolled you on top of him so you were straddling his lap.

“I’m not done with you, doll.” yeah, it was about to be a long, tiring night.

Published (04/07/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @sweetserendipity65, @buckysleftarm420, @longinusfilibuster, @kathsheaven, @your-local-awkward-barista, @xfeliciahardyx (thanks for your support <3)

[n0bamak1s]

drive you crazy - mai zenin x reader

request: “could you do mai’s reaction to silent treatment? can the read be gender neutral also?” - @hitchsimp

summary: after having to carry mai to the infirmary following the goodwill exchange event, reader finds themself in an argument over mais carelessness. this leads to mai wondering just why she’s so upset over being ignored like this. (genre: enemies to lovers, angst-ish to fluff, oblivious pining)

warnings: mentions of violence, some angst, swearing

word count: 2.2k

a/n: sorry i’ve been kind of slow with writing lately everyone! exams have me pretty busy atm but hopefully i’ll be in less of a slump after i’m done with that. i hope you guys enjoy this in the mean time! also criticism is greatly appreciated bc i’m still kind of a beginner on writing arguments and stuff like that ^_^

mai decided that she hated being ignored.

not that you two were anywhere near best friends or anything, in fact most of the time you guys were at each others throats over something trivial. at least when you guys argued, though, you still acknowledged her presence. she knew you couldn’t stay silent towards her forever, you guys would have to work together eventually, you were teammates of sorts after all.

you had started giving her the cold shoulder not long after the goodwill event. utahime had called you to inform you mai was out of the game, and you had to go retrieve her. you groaned at the idea of having to be her knight in shining armor, but reluctantly began to make your way to the forest that the group had split up in.

by the time you found her lying on the grass, unconscious, you were already irritated as you cursed whoever made these uniforms so stiff to run in. you crouched down to get closer to her level, lightly shaking her shoulder in hopes you would stir her awake. when that didn’t work, you rolled your eyes and picked her up, one hand supporting her upper back and the other tucked under her knees.

at first glance to anyone else who may have seen how you carried her, it would almost seem romantic. thought, their opinions would probably change pretty quickly if they saw how you lectured her when she woke up.

she stirred awake and blinked a couple times to adjust to her surroundings before turning to see your very tired and very annoyed face.

“you could’ve just stuck to the plan, you know.” despite the anger clear in your face as you stated at your lap, your voice had a quality of softness to it mai had never heard. before she could get any words out, you interrupted her train of thought and continued talking. “we made that plan for a reason. you knew you weren’t ready to take on maki, so why would you put yourself in danger like that?” you looked up to make eye contact with her, and she noted the subtle hint of gentleness in your eyes, but not before she jumped to defensiveness.

“what the hell makes you think you know why i wanted to fight maki?” she resented your concern in favor of starting an argument with you.

“have you ever considered that maybe you need to think about how your little revenge fantasy ruins our chances of winning this thing.” the warmth in your voice was now gone, replaced with a tone far from sympathetic. “we’ve all worked hard to get a chance to make it somewhere as jujutsu sorcerer, so it would be nice if you at least tried to care.”

for a moment, mai found it hard to come up with some kind of response. of course she knew how hard you worked to get here, not that she’d admit it. so why did she suddenly feel a twang of sympathy at how betrayed your words sounded?

before she could even think of how to counter what you said, you got up from the seat you had been in and strolled out, not even giving her the satisfaction of some kind of goodbye.

you guys weren’t even friends. she thought you were too irritable and you thought she was too full of herself. she shouldn’t care this much about whether or not she had hurt you. this feeling would probably wash over by morning, and you guys would go back to your usual bickering.

it only took one glance at you the next morning to see that, no, the feeling had not washed over.

for one thing, you had completely ignored her when utahime announced you would choose partners for sparring. normally, you would nod to mai wordlessly and stalk off in her direction so you two would spar together. it was the one thing you guys were good at doing together, maybe just because it was a way for you to get your anger out on each other from all the snide comments and annoyed glares you guys exchanges on the daily.

today, however, you turned to noritoshi and asked him if he would be your partner. when mai glanced in your direction, she couldn’t help but notice the soft smile that graced your face when you asked him, nothing like the stoic one you usually had when you guys partnered up.

why should she care about that? you and noritoshi were a couple of hard asses anyway, so why did it bother her so much if you chose to spar him instead?

she was currently paired with miwa, who seemed to quickly catch on to the quick looks she sent in your direction in between the punches thrown.

“did you get in a fight with them or something?” mai didn’t need to hear your name to know who miwa was asking about.

“something like that.” she caught her breath after dodging a kick at her legs. “apparently i’m too ‘careless’” miwa noted how her punches came with more force when talking about it.

“they probably just want you to stop putting yourself in danger, you know?” as much as miwa loved you guys, it was kind of ridiculous how much obvious stuff she had to say just to egg you guys on to make you realize how in denial you were about your care for each other.

“then they could just tell me that. maybe they should follow their own advice about caring.” she huffed annoyedly, eyes wandering back over to you sparring with noritoshi, seeing how you smiled so kindly at him as you helped him up. her eyes lingered on you for just a moment too long, studying the way all the tension in your face seemed to release, with your eyes growing shinier and the corners of your mouth quirking up without a care in the world.

why didn’t you ever smile at her like that?

your ignoring of her continued for the next few days. mai felt herself grow annoyed, because she had no idea how to get under your skin. she didn’t want to admit that she was bored without the pointless arguments, or baseless insults that you guys shared. now, when she joined you with the rest of your classmates for lunch, it was like she was invisible. instead of criticizing her aim during target practice, you would turn to momo and ask her about the new show she was watching, and it was like mai didn’t even cross your mind.

you couldn’t keep this up forever, surely. even when you weren’t trading insults with each other, it was obvious to anyone else how you would bite back calling out her name in concern when she took a particularly hard hit in training. regardless, you were still far too stubborn to admit how you missed talking to her, even if it was just to lecture her about paying more attention to her surroundings while she rolled her eyes about how you had stopped by the infirmary so late just to say that.

why were you so insistent on preaching to her whenever she went and got herself hurt?

it became rather monotonous for your classmates, watching the both of you glance at the other one with soft eyes when you thought no one else was looking. it was exhausting seeing how you guys grew tense at the mention of the other’s name, trying to pass off your embarrassment for anger.

it had been a few days more of dealing with your stubbornness before you finally managed a break from one another with mai and todo going out for a mission together. you knew them to be somewhat of a chaotic duo together, so you hoped this would work to your advantage in giving you a day of rest from all this pointless drama. you knew it was childish, sulking over problems you had caused entirely on your own, but with the time apart, you couldn’t help but become just a little bit self pitying. it was only natural when you had messed up your chances with the girl you liked because you were too scared to admit your feelings to yourself.

wait, what?

you probably would have sat and soaked up your startling revelation (well, startling to you at least) before you were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door of your dorm room, followed immediately by a call of your name by miwa. she said something about needing help patching up mai, and you hated yourself for how quickly you sprung up from the spot you had been lounging on your bed. ignoring the strangely knowing look miwa gave you, you picked up your pace to the infirmary, feeling much more limber in your lounge clothes. it was hard not to notice the contrast between the last time you spoke in the infirmary when you swung open the door without even a knock, your eyes flooded with concern.

before mai even had a chance to process your disheveled state from running all the way to the infirmary, you spoke to her for the first time in a week.

“i’m sorry.” your voice was breathless as you leaned against the doorframe.

instead of pointing out the obvious fact that you had suddenly decided to speak to her again, she just adjusted herself so she sat up in the stiff infirmary bed, choosing to point out another obvious fact. “you know it wasn’t your fault i got hurt.” her words made you feel like a dunce, but her tone was earnest, genuine.

“but maybe if i hadn’t been ignoring you i could’ve been there to help you out.” made your way towards her so you sat at the edge of the bed, grabbing a small roll of bandages and leaning down slightly to observe where any injuries remained. “i should’ve been there to help you out.”

she raised an eyebrow. “i don’t need you to protect me.”

“i know that,” until then, you had your eyes trained on the papery sheets adorning the bed, but when you met her eyes, she could see the heartfelt look in your eyes “, but i want you to be able to rely on me.”

you broke eye contact momentarily, reaching for her slightly bloodied hand to wrap, resting it loosely in yours. your fingers settled around her palm so gently as you wrapped the bandages, she noted. it became difficult for you to stay focused with how her eyes watched you so intently.

was she smiling?

“quit beating yourself up over stuff like that.” her voice was hardly above a whisper as she leaned forward, using her good hand to brush away some stray hairs that had fallen in your face. “whenever you’re not there to protect me, you’re always the first one to ask what happened, the first one to come running with bandages, the first one to tell me to take care of myself.”

then she gave you that knowing look. the same one miwa had given you when you rushed to the infirmary, the one noritoshi had given you when you glanced her way during sparring, hell now that you thought of it, the same one todo had given you when he and mai had been paired up for a mission. the once small and nearly undetectable smile gracing her features grew into what was the closest thing you had ever seen to a grin from her. had her face been this close to yours the whole time?

“because i just drive you crazy, don’t i?” her eyes were half lidded as they stared deeply into yours. you couldn’t even be brought to deny her teasing, just nodding meekly at her announcement.

she leaned in close to you, if she just tilted her head, you guys could’ve been kissing.

“that’s good you know.” her voice was so quiet that you were sure had you been any further away, you’d never have heard it. “since i’d be lying if i said i didn’t miss you and that stick up your ass when you were avoiding me.”

you chuckled quietly, tilting your head down so it rested on her shoulder as you did, causing her to let out a soft laugh herself.

“you kind of scare the shit out of me sometimes mai.” you lift your head back up to look her straight in the eye. “but i think i’d lose it if i spent any longer pretending to hate you.”

it’s just for a split second, but in that split second you felt as if you two are the only people in the world. you barely even had to move before your lips brushed up against hers. it’s almost timid, the way you kiss her, as if she’s made of glass. despite your delicacy with her, she’s quick to lean in, as if she’s chasing the feeling of your lips on hers. her bandaged hand that still rests in yours squeezes your hand tightly in reassurance. when she pulls away breathlessly, her cheeks are flushed pink and her face is painted with a smile that you can’t help but swell with pride from knowing you’re the reason it happened.

that same knowing look is back on your classmates’ faces later that same day as they note you and mai exchanging wide smiles they had never seen from either of you as you made your way through the halls of school.

[football-writing]

Mason Mount - Always

Prompt: I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there's a life after that, I'll love you then

Summary: Mason and Y/N have been in love forever. It takes a graduation dinner for him to finally come clean about his feelings.

Warnings: friends to lovers aye, mentions of graduation, some tears were shed but it's all good! Also very little dialogue bc i wanted to try something different :)

If someone asked him how long he's been in love with her, he wouldn't know what to tell them. It had developed gradually, really.

First they were friends, meeting for the first time as she got transferred to his school. She'd been quite the character. On the frist day she was there, she'd asked the boys if she could play football with them. They said no girls were allowed, so she stole the ball from one of Mason's friends, dribbled around two other boys and kicked the ball right between the legs of the goalie. He'd admired her then, her cheekiness bringing a boyish grin to his face, and they easily hit it off. She would never allow him to go easy on her, although she would sometimes get in a mood when he'd win for the twentieth time that day. He'd cheer her up and ask her to play at his house, playing boardgames and watching cartoons as they chatted amongst themselves every schoolday.

She'd slowly grown out of playing football with him; clearly they were on different levels entirely nowadays. Still, they remained close friends. He'd gone off to London, then, and it was hard at first. But they would call all the time (he hated phonecalls, but she said she preferred hearing his voice, and so he called her almost daily) and she would come to his home games to cheer him on. He had given her a Chelsea shirt with his name on it, and she'd joked that people would think they were together. The words left his mouth before he could register that he was talking: 'Would that be such a bad thing?' She had remained silent, but the blush that adorned her cheeks must've meant something, right?

It was a silly thing he said back then, though he often lets his mind wander back to that day. Perhaps he was just being ballsy, or joking around, gauging her reaction to a topic that she brought up. But somewhere after those words, the lines had blurred. Their goodbye hugs lingered a little longer, the gazes between them seeming to be softer - a little too soft for two people to just call themselves friends. He would take notice of the way she twirled her hair around her fingers when she was nervous, how her locks would shine in the sunlight. Her scent - sweet and faintly resembling the smell of spring - edged into his memory.

She had felt it, too. It started with missing him more than she used to when he was away for his job. She'd resorted to sleeping in one of his hoodies, just to miss him a little less. Then, she'd set one of their selfies together as her lockscreen, Mason pulling a silly face as she kissed his cheek. A smile would edge onto her face anytime she opened her phone. And when he'd lost a game and got all upset, biting his fingernails to hide his anxiousness, her heart would break for him too. She would do anything to cheer him up. Though, mostly she just wanted to hear his beautiful laugh ringing in her ears - the one that made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crease at the corners.

It wasn't something they spoke about, or ever acknowledged. But the pair was awfully aware of how much the line had blurred since that day on the playground.

But if asked about the moment he knew she was it for him? He'd tell them it was this very moment. Some would say it was cliché, that it was something straight out of a movie. And maybe it was. But he'd seen enough romcoms (he wished he could say it was courtesy of her, but really, he loved those films) to know that the movies hadn't described it well enough.

Because his breath did catch in his throat. His cheeks flushed as he saw her, heart beating louder than it would when he'd been running on the pitch. As she was walking down the stairs, floorlength dress accentuating her figure, her hair falling loosely and her make-up complementing the colour of her eyes perfectly. Her heels were still in her hands, and he fought the urge to smile. He knew how much she hated heels, and how her clumsy self would've probably fallen down the stairs if she'd put them on already. God he felt it all over his body - the hairs on his arms rose as the tingly feeling in his stomach spread through his body. He was so utterly and completely in love with her.

"Y/N. You look- I mean- I-." He tried to start, stammering over his words as his cheeks burned.

"D'you know what? I'll take that as a compliment, Mase." She laughed as she put her heels on.

"You should. Can't even find the words to describe how beautiful you look." He admitted as he groaned mockingly, holding his arm out for her to take so they could walk the short distance to the restaurant.

"Well that doesn't happen often, does it?"

The both of them joked some more as they walked together, before arriving at their destination.

It was her graduation diner. All her family and relatives were there, which to her included Mason. It was a good night, laughing and reminiscing on the past years, wondering about what the future holds as they not-so-subtly stole food from each other's plates.

That was, until her family started speeching. Some of her family members had prepared something, and she'd held Mason's hand tight;y in hers as she listened to all the encouraging words.

"Mason, son. Would you like to say something too?" Her dad asked.

"Uhh, well. I didn't really prepare anything, actually."

"I'm sure you can think of something. Stand up, son." He cursed himself for being so close to her dad. But he was right, he had something to say.

And so he begrudgingly scraped his chair back and stood up. Suddenly all eyes were on him, and although he should be used to that by now, he felt vulnerable. He cleared his throat and looked at her next to him, only to find her kind eyes already on him, an encouraging smile send his way enough to make him start speaking.

"Well. Y/N and I have known each other for years. She was always joking around, roughhousing with me and the boys, never giving a care in the world as long as she, and the people around her, are happy. She'll do anything her way, even if it's the wrong way, because she's too stubborn to admit her mistakes." Some of the guests chuckled, and he took a moment to smile before he continued on.

"That's just what she's like. And I admire that in her - in you." He directed his attention towards her now, as she looked up at him with large eyes. "You're not one to admit when you're upset or stressed, or when you need help. And I know these past few years have been hard on you, but I am so proud to see how you've handled everything. How you persevered through your struggles while still being true to yourself. I admire that in you, and it gives me strength, too. Maybe you're a bit of an inspiration of mine. And-" He had to swallow hard, then, and he glanced at her to gauge her reaction as he did. Tears were brimming in her eyes, and she would no doubt get mad at him later for ruining her make up. He had to swallow again.

"I guess what I'm saying is- It's been an honour to have been by your side through your highs and your lows. Seeing you grow from that little know-it-all girl into the strong woman you are now. And I can't wait to be by your side for everything else you're going to achieve." He sniffled then, wiping a sleeve underneath his own eyes to keep himself from crying in front of - quite literally- her entire family.

That sentiment had gone out the window for her, though, because she'd let the tears stream freely over her cheeks. Worry overtook him as the faintest of sobs left her lips, and so he quickly reached down to her. He held her face in his hands, thumbs wiping her cheeks dry as she let out a teary laugh.

"God, I'm so embarassing." She laughed as she took his hands from his face, resting them on her lap as she played with his fingers - something she had a habit of doing to calm herself down. "You could always become a speech writer if the football thing doesn't work out, though." She added, laughing slightly at her own joke as she tried to lighten the mood. She really hated feeling so vulnerable.

"You're not." He whispered back.

If there was any moment to tell her, this was it. So he mustered up all the courage he could find in himself to just tell her.

"And I'll support you through everything else. All the highs and lows and victories and defeats, I'll be there for you whenever you need me. Because- Because I love you."

Gasps were heard from around the table, but the only reaction he cared for was hers.

"You do?" Her voice was timid, questioning the extent of his words as she was still sniffling.

"I do. I love you, and I will love you until I die, and if there's a life after that, I'll love you then."

"I- Mason."

She wasn't sure what to respond, so overwhelmed with emotions that she couldn't contain her tears overflowing her eyes for the second time that day. He was crying now too, though, albeit silently. The whirlwind of emotions she felt - that he so clearly reciprocated - were enough to confess her love for him too. Something she now felt they should've done much sooner.

"I love you too, Mason. Always and always and always." She repeated as she let her face fall in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as he held her inexplicably close to him, arms tight around her waist as they took in the moment. Their moment.

The other guests applauded, sniffled as they tried to hide their tears at the heartfelt moment, even cheered for the two of them.

But all of it went unheard.

Because who cares about what others think when you've got that kind of love right in front of you?

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ playdate ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!wonwoo x reader, side mingyu x reader

genre&warnings; yandere!wonwoo, kinda asshole!mingyu, creampies, sloppy seconds, intoxication, exhibitionism AND voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, one sided pining for all!!, kidnapping, stalking.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; if I’m being honest, the draft for this originally was completely different and I reworked it because I wasn’t satisfied with how it was turning out bc it was too similar to sea castles except mingyu and wonwoo were brothers kjdhfdkjh 😭😭 As always, thank you sooo much for the love and interest in Monster Mash! I know last chapter was.... erm, a lot. LMAO 😆 Have a great rest of your day/night and I’ll see yall tomorrow~! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~3800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x - x - x - x

you call me on the telephone, you feel so far away;

you tell me to come over, there’s some games you wanna play

i’m walking to your house, nobody’s home;

just me and you and you and me alone.

The relationship you share with Mingyu isn’t necessarily one that you like to talk about, much less acknowledge on most days.

“O-oh, fuck, M---Mingyu!”

It’s purely physical and a little destructive, in your opinion. Especially when you found yourself frustratingly liking him more than you ever imagined.

He bends your leg, ankle resting against his shoulder as he angles his thrusts to graze against your sweet spot. Shapes dance behind your eyelids, lips parting in a silent moan when you feel yourself already close to cumming.

But it’s Mingyu that cums first, hips stuttering as he growls, “That’s right, fuckin’ take all of it, baby.”

He rides out his high, pulling out of you and letting your leg down before you can even process what’s happening. “Hey, wait, but what about me?” You ask, voice small as you watch him get off of the bed. He tugs his pants on, plucking a shirt off of the floor as he throws it over his head.

“Sorry, I gotta go take care of some business back at campus, Mr. Lee needs the papers graded before tomorrow’s 8AM and I’m already late. You can stay here if you want though, bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a bit, I---sorry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He’s gone in a flash, door clicking shut behind him as you sit with your legs still parted. Typical.

Groaning, you flop onto your back against his bed sheets.

“Thanks for nothing.”

Wonwoo says it’s the last time.

But every time is the last time.

He wraps a hand around his cock, soft breaths making the window fog up in front of him as he watches you and Mingyu through the window. He times the movement of his hand to match Mingyu’s thrusts as he pretends it’s your warmth wrapped around his cock and not his own fist.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck…” He whispers in succession, feeling his abdomen tightening as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu bends your leg over his shoulder, mental images of you underneath him instead.

He remembers the first time he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bedroom, curiosity making him watch through his bedroom window as you fell to your knees in front of the other male. Wonwoo knew better than to watch, so he looked away, cheeks burning crimson before he ever so slowly turned back to the window. 

He couldn’t help it.

Wonwoo had seen you around the university campus too, hanging around the art kids in the building opposite the Sciences building where he typically stayed with his small group of friends; Mingyu included. He thought you were cute and kind, especially when you happened to hang around their group for the day. And he liked you, even if he was too shy to ever say it.

Which was precisely why he couldn’t understand your attraction to Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu was selfish, almost irritatingly so, and Wonwoo knew.

Wonwoo knew you deserved better too, someone much like himself. Someone who would take care of you better than Mingyu ever could.

Movement in the opposite window has Wonwoo pulling himself from his thoughts, brows furrowed when he sees Mingyu leaving and you still alone in the bedroom.

“What…?” He mumbles, slightly confused when he watches you flop onto your back.

God, what he would do to eat you out right now.

He tightens his grip around his cock, this time imagining himself eating you out, tongue against your clit while you moan out his name and tangle your fingers into his hair. 

A stuttered moan falls from his lips as he cums into his palm, eyes clamped shut as the pleasure washes over him.

Wonwoo promises it’s the last time.

“Hey, did you hear about Jeonghan’s Halloween party next Saturday?”

“He’s throwing one?”

“Yeah, I heard everyone’s invited too.”

Wonwoo pretends to go through his textbook as he eavesdrops instead.

If everyone was invited, that surely meant that you’d be there too.

Mingyu glances over at you, tapping his pencil against the corner of his textbook. “Hey…” He starts, “Did you hear about Jeonghan’s party?”

You glance up from your own textbook, bored eyes on Mingyu who looks up at you from his bedroom floor. Neither of you had talked about the previous time; opting to forget about it since it wasn’t the first time either. “What about it?”

“Wanna go with me? I’ll make it up to you for last time.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I guess.”

You step out of the Film Developing room, arms full of negatives when you accidentally run into a body that walks up from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The negatives spill to the floor, scattering all around you as you and the other person kneel down to collect them.

“It’s okay.” The deep voice replies.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo!” You smile, “What are you doing in the Arts Building?”

He blushes a deep red, kneeling and stacking the negatives before placing them back in your arms. “Oh I--I do some film editing on my own and I--um, I was just wandering around. I had some free time, so I was curious.” Wonwoo shoots you a shy smile as he pushes his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Wonwoo was very cute.

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I feel like I’ve never seen you around here…” You trail off.

“Ah, yeah, I actually have a personal studio on the east end of town. It’s small but… I don’t have to share my things, which I’d prefer.” He smiles, eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun when people mess around with your things and ruin them, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I knooooow. Minghao always messes up my developing station and moves my shit around.” You keep talking but Wonwoo barely acknowledges it. Instead, he takes in your appearance, admiring you as you talk animatedly about god knows what.

God, why’d it have to be Mingyu.

“Hey, so are you coming on Saturday?” He blinks confusedly at you, “Huh? Sorry, I--I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“Oh, Jeonghan’s party! Everyone’s invited so I was wondering if you were coming!” His blush burns darker; were you asking him out?

“I’ll be there with Mingyu but if you show up, you should save me a drink!” His excitement falters slightly at the mention of Mingyu, but he does his best to send you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, I’ve got one with your name on it.”

Wonwoo was kind, patient and understanding from what you knew.

You’d only met him a few times and you knew he lived in the building across from Mingyu’s but all of your interactions with him had only ever been pleasant.

In another universe, maybe you would’ve been in a happy relationship with someone like Wonwoo.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get ready for Jeonghan’s party; short dress barely covering your ass when Mingyu saunters into his bathroom where you currently were.

“Jeez, who’re you trying to impress.” He mumbles, sidestepping you as he checks himself in the mirror.

“I just felt like being cute, that’s all.”

Mingyu grins, hands on your waist before they slide down to your ass. He squeezes hard; a chuckle on his lips when you mewl.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d go for with this ‘lil number but okay. Let’s get going.”

Mingyu drinks more than he should and he knows it.

He takes any drink someone puts in his hands and downs it before trying to find more which usually leads to a lot of 2AM drunk phone calls and quickies in the backseat of your car.

This time, however, you’re just as bad as he is; taking any drink available as you try to drown out the way you feel when you see Mingyu chatting up someone else across Jeonghan’s living room.

To be fair, you weren’t exclusive anyway.

But his eyes dance over to you, a cocky smirk on his face when he sees the effect he has on you. He knew how you felt too, even if you never said a word about it.

Mingyu didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had, even if he benefited from it more than you did. And the two of you were friends, albeit you weren’t sure for how much longer.

He leaves the other girl as he makes his way over to you, eyes unfocused when he presses you into the wall you’d been standing in front of.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Ngh, M--Mingyu, fuck--fuck, harder!”

Mingyu keeps you bent over the sink, hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you from behind in Jeonghan’s upstairs bathroom.

The loud music drowns out your loud moans and his filthy words as you eagerly fuck yourself on his cock. “Fuck, this tiny little dress of yours doesn’t do a damn thing. Bet you wanted me to fuck you just like this, huh? Bent over a fuckin’ sink at a party.”

Neither of you had even made the effort to get undressed as you hiked your dress up and tugged your panties to the side, hands planted firmly onto the mirror in front of you as you watched yourself get drunk off of his cock.

“G-god, yes, yes! Fuck me h-harder, damn it!” You whine. Mingyu slaps your ass at this, low grunts spilling from his lips. “Your cute ‘lil cunt begging to be filled with my cock at every second of the fuckin’ day. “ He slurs.

He feels his cock throbbing as he erratically thrusts into you, only a low groan on his lips before he’s cumming.

“O-oh, shit…”

You feel his thrusts slow down as he cums inside of you, a soft mewl on your lips at the feeling. You clench around him, shaking your hips slightly to get his attention back on you.

A sharp knock scares you both as Mingyu pulls out of you; panties slipping back into place like they’d never been touched.

“Hey! People need to use the bathroom, assholes!” Someone yells from the opposite side.

“Fuck, we need to go.” Mingyu grumbles, readjusting himself and zipping his denim back up.

You very slowly lift yourself up from leaning on top of the sink, tugging your dress back down quietly.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

Mingyu can sense the annoyance even without you saying anything, lopsided smile on his features. “Later, okay? Don’t be a brat.”

“Whatever.”

You head for the door, unlocking it before you step out first and leave Mingyu behind. Your body still buzzes with the urge to cum when you start heading down the hallway, panties sticking to you like a second skin with Mingyu’s cum pooling into the material. You turn a corner into an empty part of the upstairs hallways, sighing slightly as you lean up against a wall.

You hear your name being called as you turn your head, finding Wonwoo jogging up to you.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” He smiles, noting the way you seem to sadly smile back at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ugh, it’s Mingyu…” You start. Wonwoo tenses up, hands balling into fists at his side. “What did he do?”

“He’s so fucking selfish! I don’t know what’s up with him lately but he always leaves me hanging!”

Oh.

It’s quiet between the two of you as your words sink in and Wonwoo’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He takes a step closer to you, fingertips under your chin to lift your head up as he meets your blown out pupils.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, y’know.”

You feel a wave of arousal wash over you at his deep voice; did Wonwoo always sound like that or was it the alcohol? “W-what?”

“I said, I wouldn’t leave you hanging. I’d put you before myself, if you’d let me.” He smirks at you, eyes twinkling with promise.

“Show me then.”

Wonwoo drags you into the nearest bedroom; excitement coursing through his veins.

In another universe, he would’ve been more romantic about this.

Dinner and candles, picnics at sunset. Ah, well.

“Well, it’s not much but it’ll do.” He says, locking the door behind himself before he turns to you. He takes in your mildly disheveled appearance, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“You deserve better, y’know? Someone who’ll take care of you.”

“I know… But you promised you’d show me, didn’t you?” Pouting, you hike your dress up before you sit down on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs as you let Wonwoo see your panties that were practically transparent.

“Fuck, you let him cum inside your tight ‘lil pussy and he didn’t even let you cum?”

“How do you know I’m tight if you never fucked me before.” You retort, shooting him a smirk of your own. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you felt more confident now than you’d been in a long while.

Wonwoo leans over you, easing you down until your back touches the sheets. “Only someone as pretty as you would have a tight ‘lil cunt and I’ll prove it.” He pulls away, undoing the button and zipper of his pants before he shimmies his boxer briefs down enough to pull his half hard cock out.

You lick your lips at the sight; he was slightly bigger than Mingyu. “Fuck, your cock is huge, Wonwoo…” He smirks at your compliment, tugging on your legs until your lower half hangs off of the side of the bed. He eases your wet panties down, pocketing them before he spreads your legs wide.

“I’m not typically one for sloppy seconds, but…” You blush at his comment. “...If it’s you, I don’t care.”

“Usually I wouldn’t have someone else’s cum already inside my fuckin’ pussy before I hook up with someone else...” You mumble.

Wonwoo guides his cock towards you, letting the shaft rest against your folds. He starts grinding against you, coating his cock in your wetness and Mingyu’s cum. His cock is already throbbing as he continues to tease you and himself, resisting the urge to fuck you hard and fast like he knew both of you needed. “S’okay, I’ll just have to cum inside you too and fuck it so deep into your fuckin’ cunt that you won’t even remember Mingyu ever did.” He grins.

“God, yes, make me cum too, I wanna cum with you…” Whining, you buck your hips up to meet his teasing touches.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you get my cock nice ‘n wet.” He positions his cock at your entrance, teasing you one more time as you whine and squirm underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He slowly eases his cock in, meeting no resistance with how wet you already were and the cum already inside you. “God, you really are fuckin’ tight…” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath.

It takes you a second to adjust to Wonwoo’s size before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you and a mewl cuts through the air when the head of his cock taps against your cervix; eyes fluttering shut with how well Wonwoo filled you up.

“Oh, god, ngh, Wonwoo I--I don’t know if I--I can hold o-off…” A choked cry rolls off of your lips, fingertips digging into the sheets underneath you as you cant your hips up to meet his thrusts. You’d already gotten close to an orgasm before and now that Wonwoo’s cock was snug between your walls and curving into you perfectly, it was hard to hold back.

“That’s okay, baby. You can cum as many times as you want. Use me how you want me.” He offers; voice gentle and inviting as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“P--please, ah, touch my---my clit…”

Wonwoo obliges, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingertips. “O-oh, fuck!”

Your body locks up, Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as he throws you over the edge and into the first mind-melting orgasm you’d had in weeks. He smiles dreamily at you, hips still snapping into you as he fucks you through your high.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cumming.”

You can only whimper in response, blushing when you can hear how much wetter you’d gotten after just one orgasm. He takes his fingers off of you clit, licking the wet digits.  

Wonwoo looks down to where the two of you are connected, a soft groan on his lips when he sees how much of your wetness coats his cock. “You really did get my cock fuckin’ soaked, baby. Think you still have it in you to give me one more? I’m close too and, ah, I’d love for you to cum with me.” He shoots you a sweet smile and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

You nod feverishly, “Mm--Mmhmm… I---I haven’t c-cum in a few weeks so… I--”

“A few weeks?”

You avert your eyes from his inquisitive stare, already knowing how he’s going to react. “Yeah, s’just Mingyu’s been so busy so… He’s been, hah, kinda’ leaving me h-hanging and---Ah!” Wonwoo thrusts into you hard, grinding against you once he was fully bottomed out.

“For weeks now? He’s been treating you like that?” It’d made sense now why he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bed alone that one time. “Y-yeah… but---but he’s just busy, y’know, ah, being a TA and a-all...”

He shakes his head in utter disbelief; selfish Mingyu, as always.

Wonwoo leans in until he’s face to face with you, kissing you on the lips gently before pulling away. He doesn’t say another word and instead works on getting you worked up to cum with him and even through the muffled music, he can hear your loud whines and whimpers and the sound of skin slapping as his thrusts become erratic.

He licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it back towards your sensitive and swollen clit. “Baby, ‘m close…” He whispers; only loud enough for you to catch.

“Ngh, fuh--fuck, Wonwoo, please cum i-inside me… I wanna feel your, ah, cock throbbing i-inside of me when you fill me up with y-your cum…” Wonwoo’s thumb presses harder against your clit and he opts to grind against you instead when he feels the tension in his abdomen start to snap. He moans your name shakily, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

You lick your lips watching his face contort in bliss and you bring your fingers down and over his thumb as you press down harder onto your clit and the action is enough to throw you over the edge again, head thrown back and a sharp whine on your lips as you cum for the second time. 

Wonwoo slows down his thrusts as he starts to come down from his high and he works you through yours. “Shit, you really are so fuckin’ pretty.” 

A blush coats your skin as your orgasm starts to ebb away and Wonwoo is careful to not hurt you once he starts to pull his cock from inside of you. 

He watches the cum drip out of you, lips pursed into a tight smile. “Guess you should get these back, huh?” He fishes for the wet panties in his pocket; helping you slide them back on and up your legs before he pulls away and starts to smooth down his own disheveled appearance.

You laugh breathily, “I’ll let you have another pair next time.” 

“Oh? There’ll be a next time?” He grins. 

Biting your lip, you stand, readjusting your dress and grimacing at how gross you felt now that your panties were even wetter and covered in more cum. 

“I---I mean, I still... I still have feelings for Mingyu but--but...” You pause; Wonwoo’s eyes on you. “I know I should end things with him, it’s just gonna take some time and I--I think you’re a really great guy, Wonwoo, and I’d like for there to be a next time... It’s just... I think I need some time to get over Mingyu first.” You mumble the last few words, a little embarrassed you even admitted you liked Mingyu. 

“No, I---I get it. It’s no worries! Just---Just come find me when you’re ready.” He shoots you a beaming smile, “I’ll leave first, okay?” 

You nod in response, smiling at his back when he turns to leave. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

You end up heading home, leaving Mingyu at Jeonghan’s party all-together.

He’d find his way home eventually; maybe even puke in the backseat of a taxi and get what he deserved. 

You giggle at the thought, stepping into the lobby of your apartment building.

Huh, the lights are out. 

You’re a little confused, but you make your way towards the elevators; stumbling slightly with the alcohol still in your system. Pressing the button, you wait patiently in the dark lobby -- only the moonlight providing a soft glow. 

The elevator dings and you quickly enter it, pressing the button for your floor before resting against the banister. 

Hey, is that a person?

Your eyes catch a glimpse of a figure not too far off and only half visible from around the corner, brows furrowed. 

But you didn’t hear anyone enter the building.

The door closes and you shake the thoughts out of your head; it was probably just the alcohol making your eyes hazy.

Eventually you reach your floor, sighing in relief that the lights were still working. You stumble down the hall, dropping your house keys a few times before you can even make the turn to get to your hallway.

You reach your door, sliding the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

God, it was so good to finally be home. 

“Good Evening, this is Boo Seungkwan reporting live on Channel 17’s 4 o’ clock news. We’re live at the scene here, as you can see behind me, at the apartment complex were Mr. Kim Mingyu resided. The police and detectives are still going through Mr. Kim’s apartment in hopes of finding any clues. His whereabouts are still unknown as well as his female companion. If you have any tips or information of where they both are, please do not hesitate to contact the police or the TV station.” Seungkwan pauses, waving down a pedestrian. “Sir? I’m a reporter for Channel 17 news, can we please have a word with you? It’s about the missing university students.”

Wonwoo sadly smiles, nodding. “Of course.”

Seungkwan gestures for the cameraman to come closer, holding the microphone in between himself and Wonwoo. “Sir, did you happen to know the missing couple?”

“Ah… Kind of. They were attending the same university as myself. He was kind of a friend of mine, and I know he lived in the building across from myself but…” Wonwoo pauses, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know what happened. They seemed like such kind people. I’ve heard rumours that they just fled to another city, but… that’s it really.”

“Did they tell you that, themselves?” Wonwoo shakes his head no. “No, just rumours flying around campus. Everyone saw them at a party last weekend, myself included. That seems to have been the last time.”

“I see, so have the police interviewed you? Do they have any suspects?”

Wonwoo shakes his head again, smiling sadly. “The police just think they ran away, which, I guess isn’t too far fetched. We’re all stressed university students, after all.”

“You mentioned he’s a friend of yours. He didn’t bother to say anything? Do you think he kidnapped her?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, worry clear on his features. “I mean, Mingyu was kind of aloof and he was very drunk at that party. I’m not sure if they got into an altercation. We never really hung out outside of campus so sadly, I can’t really say I know if it’d be in his character or not.”

“Thank you sir, for your time.”

Seungkwan lets Wonwoo leave, stepping away to finish the live report.

Wonwoo nods, turning to make his way back into his apartment. 

He enters his place, toeing off his shoes before he heads towards his own bedroom.

By nature, he steps in front of his window; the same one that faced Mingyu’s now empty bedroom.

His lips ease into a small peaceful smile. 

He would have to make a trip to the east end once all the news vans and patrol cars were gone.

He was sure you’d love the food he’d be making for your candle-lit dinner. It was one of his favorite recipes.

And he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind watching from his place in the corner, either. 

[rosy-cheekx]

Alone Again, Naturally

Three times Martin should have called for help.

(I twisted my ankle on Sunday and was bummed bc I missed my partner so…this happened…oops.)

-

1.

Martin’s phone was missing, though he was pretty sure he knew where it was. That thing, that wormy, writhing mass of a woman had it. Destroyed it. His only chance of rescue from this nightmare. Replaying the image of dropping the phone, abandoning it as he ran, would do him no good. His coworkers hadn’t noticed he was missing, or if they had noticed, they hadn’t stopped by. And they shouldn't, of course, it would only put them in danger. But still, it stung a bit, to know that he’d been gone for what, three days now? and no one cared.

He could become a statement from this, Martin realized, his death narrated in Jon’s smooth, clipped voice, and then they would finally learn what happened to that large, oafish researcher who was transferred to the archives with them and disappeared overnight.

Martin sighed through his nose noisily, as if he could expel the dark thoughts with the sound. “Christ, Blackwood. Getting awful morbid there.” Talking to himself had become a staple of his isolation. For one, it drowned out the ever-present knocking on the door and the squelching rustle of the worms. He honestly wasn’t sure whether the sounds were still real or if they had become such a constant that his brain just filled them in anyways.

His voice was the only other sound available to him with his computer not working and his phone gone. His clock radio had played static on every channel, and he had been grateful for the white noise at first. But the longer Martin left the radio on, the sound began to morph from the hissing of dead air to a choir, indecipherable and haunting. There were no words and yet he could understand the message: come home to us. We need you, we miss you, let us show you how much we love you. With us, you’ll never feel lonely again, we promise. Martin had come to, hand on the doorknob to his flat, radio in hand. After that, he had removed all the batteries from anything that could make noise. Since then, he could only trust his own voice; everything else was a trap.

The can opener, unfortunately, had been electric too. He had been so proud of his purchase, a real attempt at adult cooking. (He never seemed to use the manual ones and could never get the grip right.) With the power out, assumedly caused by Prentiss, he had to get creative when it came to “making dinner.” For Martin, this meant sawing open a tin can with a serrated knife, eating it with a fork, and praying no metal shavings were lurking in each mouthful. Tonight’s feast: another can of tinned green beans and the last can of pineapple. He didn’t even like green beans, why had he ever bought these?

Martin gritted himself against the awful sound of metal on metal as he cut into a tin of beans, hissing sharply through his teeth and letting his mind wander. Maybe he could strain the beans? Let them dry? It would probably be better than the wet and soggy mush he was bound to find. Maybe he could put some crackers on them for a crunch? Pretend it’s a bad soup? As he was finishing his indelicate surgery, Martin tipped the can into the sink a little, hoping to strain the bean juice and improve the meal even a little. As he removed the last of the lid, he saw it.

There, in the sink, wiggling its way out of the drain. Another worm. Martin shrieked and jumped back, dropping the can in the sink with a clatter. He grabbed a roll of paper towels and began to stuff them down the sink, plugging up the drain as best he could. For extra measure, he plugged the faucet as well, suddenly terrified of accidentally swallowing one in a glass of water. Once the adrenaline rush had passed, Martin felt it: a stinging in his palm. They must have jumped at him, must have bitten him. It would be over soon, he knew it. He would be like Prentiss, a mass of tiny bodies. He braced himself to feel something, but nothing changed. Martin frowned, chewing on his lip in confusion, and hazarded a glance down to his hand. There was no worm in his palm, nothing wriggling and biting deep into his muscle, just a slice along the flesh of his thumb, dripping blood from where he must have cut himself on the tin can.

Sheepishly, Martin rolled his eyes at his defeatism. Did it hurt like hell? Yes. But he wasn’t going to become a worm monster. Not today. Grabbing a few more sheets of paper towel, Martin hissed in pain as he pressed them to his wound, making his way shakily to the paltry first-aid kit he kept in his bathroom. He was clumsy in his wound care, only able to use one hand to open the kit and the individually wrapped plasters, while the other pooled blood in his palm uselessly. The antiseptic had stung like hell and the plaster was off-center, but eventually, the job was done. Martin had managed.

“See?” He asked himself softly. “All better. We didn’t want the green beans anyways.” Martin was alone, but he would be fine. He could take care of himself.

——

2.

Martin’s phone had become less and less useful since his time in the Archives. Sasha and Tim had been distant in the end, their group texts dwindling into occasional messages regarding whether not someone had contacted so-and-so regarding their statement. He and Jon had called and texted quite a bit, before the Unknowing, when Jon had been in China, America, and wherever else Gertrude’s breadcrumbs had led him. But since the explosion, their messages lay at a standstill, a “good luck! come home safe :)” still waiting to be sent to “Jonathan Sims--Boss.” He used to call his mother every week, but the outgoing calls had dwindled as she returned less and less of them, until he received an apologetic voicemail from Steady Waters Care Home a few months ago.

Now, the only messages he received were his work emails and an occasional text from Peter with a request or two regarding The Magnus Institute. Not even spam calls reached him anymore. That was all fine by Martin. He was busy running the institute; he didn’t have time for social calls, even if he wanted any, which he didn’t. Martin had taken to leaving his phone in his work office, knowing he wouldn’t need it outside the building anyways. It was becoming something like a desktop mouse to him in its versatility.

It was a Thursday, and it was late--Martin’s watch read 11:09. Thursdays were Martin’s days to deliver paperwork to the archives. He could only ever do it at night when he was sure Jon had either gone home (or was asleep at his desk at the very least). Peter Lukas had been working Martin to the bone with all the paperwork he would hand off with a wave of his hand and an “I’ll be back next week Martin. Please don’t call me,” and this week’s stack of statement requests, financial approvals, and quarterly reviews would fall to Martin instead. Who knew running a front for feeding an all-seeing eldritch deity would require so many business expenses?

Martin. Martin knew. He had reviewed and approved each and every one.

It was the week after Halloween, so the list of those eager to give a statement was longer than usual. Hellweek, Tim used to call it, a grin on his face as Jon would frown and shake his head. The stack of folders Martin carried in his arms eclipsed his eyesight as he carefully made his way down the hall, the Lonely silencing his footsteps and the shuffle of his clothing. The elevator was broken this week, thanks to a visit from one of the Fairchilds. Martin clumsily opened the door to the stairwell, turning to the side slightly to see the steps that descended into the basement he knew so well. Cautiously, he began his way down the stairs, arms clutching the stack of paperwork and binders tight to his chest. The basement was eerily silent; even Martin’s muted steps echoed in his ears.

The door to the Archives creaked slightly, and Martin realized his mistake: he hadn’t propped the door. The thin streak of light that painted his way down the steps thinned and faded in time with the slow squeak of the door. The click of the latch sealed his fate: Martin was in the dark. He didn’t mind the dark, in principle, though his new awareness of the Fears heightened his concern considerably. He stepped down slowly, feeling for the steps with his foot as he went.

Halfway down the stairs, Martin heard a soft flutter as a few papers shifted in his stack. He hoisted the pile and tried to readjust it as he stepped once more. The combination of the changes in the balance of the papers and his weight combined were too much for his brain to process at once and he overcompensated on his step, putting his weight down a little too early. Martin felt the rush of adrenaline as he tried to catch himself, hands clutching uselessly at the paperwork in his hands as if it could save him and he felt himself tumble to the ground. Falling sideways, he hit his shoulder hard on the steps, momentum carrying him down the remaining steps to the floor. The loose papers not held in binders and folders scattered in what Martin was sure was every direction.

Martin was frozen on the floor, pain pulsing through his shoulder. He sat up tentatively, patting himself down as he set down what remained of his stack of folders. He wasn’t bleeding, but his ears were ringing and his arm hurt like hell. Listening carefully for the sound of anyone reacting to his presence, he rotated his shoulders carefully, wincing as throbbing radiated up his arm. He must have dislocated it. Patting his legs down, Martin found his phone in his pocket. He must have forgotten to put it on the charger. He...he could call someone, should call someone. His shoulder was dislocated.

He could call Jon.

He pulled up his text messages, the cursor blinking back at him, blinding in the dark. Jon was surely awake, he knew that man’s sleep schedule was worse than his.

good luck! come home safe :)

safe :)

safe.

“Shit.”

He couldn’t call Jon. It would undo everything he and Peter were trying to build up. It was all for Jon anyways, to keep him safe, to keep them all safe. No. He had to do this alone. It was best that way.

Martin sat himself up carefully. He had taken enough first aid courses (rather, he had watched them for free on the internet) to know how to set it back in place and he knew it would not be pleasant. He drew his right knee up, and clumsily unknotted his tie, using it to secure his arm to his knee. Martin closed his eyes tight and leaned away from his knee, rotating his shoulder as he stretched away, wincing in anticipation until he felt the wet pop of his arm slotting back into place. Sparks shot through his vision, his only grounding point in the dark, and he huffed out a cross between a moan and a curse.

He carefully made a fist with his re-set hand, tensing the muscles in his arm. Determining it to be good enough, Martin felt his way to his feet and grabbed the wall to steady himself. He knew there was a light switch somewhere--ah.

The light clicked on and he winced at the sudden change, letting his eyes adjust behind the safety of his lashes. When he opened his eyes again, he surveyed the mess of his paperwork, gathering it methodically. It took him another half hour, back against Tim’s old desk, to resort his files before setting them in the file basket he had installed on the door to the Archivist’s office, the rest going on the desk of Jon himself. He would see them all in the morning. At least Jon was home, resting.

When Martin emerged from the Archives, he glanced down at his watch, wondering if it was too late to hail a cab. He frowned at his watch; the face was cracked, the hands stuck at 11:11. He must have cracked it in his fall. “Make a wish,” Martin mumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure his wishes were out of reach, hopeless. As long as he would be safe after all this, Martin could sacrifice a few wishes.

——

3.

Martin was on a walk. He had been doing that a lot, since his and Jon’s escape to Scotland. There was something comforting about the long stretches of rolling hills and rocky cliffsides, utterly devoid of menacing fear entities or bosses hellbent on destroying the world. Jon would come with him sometimes, especially in the early days when leaving each other’s presence was challenging to say the least, but Martin sometimes just needed the space. He loved Jon, he knew he did, and Jon did too, but sometimes the presence of another would build up and stifle him, an unbearable heat radiating off of Jon until Martin had to just go for a bit.

It was raining today, a bassy rhythm beating down on Martin’s umbrella as he walked a familiar cliffside path. He could see a rocky beach below him, waves made of roiling ink, more black than blue. The rain was comforting to him, distinguishing this ocean spread before him from the ocean of the Lonely and drowning out any thoughts that passed through Martin’s head. He stepped around a patch especially muddy gravel, glancing down and seeing a ghost of a reflection staring back at him.

Martin had been in a cold place today, withdrawn from the rest of the world. He had felt the fog blossoming over his mind and had known he needed to go for a bit, center himself, remind himself he was real. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither would his sense of self again, though he was making progress. Jon understood that sentiment, perhaps better than anyone else in the world, and had kissed him softly at the doorway, squeezing his hand in an unspoken promise. Martin tensed his own hand in a fist, still feeling the heat of Jon’s calloused palm under his, reveling in the idea that someone loved him the way Jon did, that someone loved him the way Jon did and that Martin loved Jon back. Martin felt his body solidifying under the rain, felt the wind buffet against him rather than pass through him.

Martin was thinking about going home when it happened.

Home, or Daisy’s safehouse, was a humble affair: reinforced windows, minimalist, a few guns hidden in the floorboards, lots of fresh fruits and vegetables from the village down the hill. It had been easy to reassign this place in Martin’s mind as home. He hadn’t felt at home since...well, definitely not since Prentiss. Maybe not before either.

The rain was letting up, and the brolly was forgotten in favor of letting the rain drop down into his hair, sopping his curls and plastering them to his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so content to be in the rain. Things weren’t good, but they were the best they’d been in a while.

The next thing Martin knew he was on the ground, ankle twisted and both shins scraped, blood and dirt mingling on his legs. He tried to stand up and cried out as his ankle immediately gave way, the hope of putting weight on it dashed on the rocks of the beach far below him.

Martin Blackwood crawled to a tree, leaning his back against it, not minding the dirt that was sure to collect on his back and rump. He winced and massaged his ankle, already feeling it begin to swell under his fingertips. With his free hand, a silver scar shining between his forefinger and thumb, he reached for his phone from his jacket pocket, hands shaking as he clumsily dialed the only number in his list of favorites.

“Martin?” Jon’s voice was warm through the tinny speakers. “I hope you’re well.” It was carefully not a question, though Martin caught the notes of careful concern.

“Tch-” Martin sucked air through his teeth. “I fell, Jon. I twisted my ankle, I think? Can’t-ah-can’t walk.”

“Oh. Martin, dear,” Jon’s voice was softer, and Martin could practically see his love’s fingers, itching to do, to fix. “Do you need me to—I can come get you, if you like. I haven’t…I haven't looked. But I can, if you want me to.”

Martin smiled despite himself, hearing Jon’s cautious phrasing. “Please, yes. I’m pretty sure I’m near a picnic park, if you want to drive there and get me? Not sure this is a drivable trail.”

“Did you pass anyone?”

“…no?”

A pause. Martin heard static crackling through the phone. “No one will be there. I Know where you are, Martin. I’ll be there soon.”

Ten minutes and enough ice packs to ease the pain of a full rugby team later, Martin was laying in the back of Jon’s small car, heat blasting on him to dry his now-soaked clothing. There were perks to having an all-knowing partner, it turned out.

Later that evening, Martin was tucked into the couch, his head pleasantly nestled in cushions and his feet in Jon’s lap, who was carefully massaging his feet and ankles, probing for any long-term injuries with his Eyes. A mug of tea grasped between his hands, Martin sighed softly and felt warmth flood his face. He hadn’t been alone this time. He wouldn’t be alone ever again.

[mandoalorian]

hiii could you do a drabble with Din?? I was thinking he doesn’t know you have anxiety yet and you’re having a panic attack and he doesn’t rlly know how to handle them?? I thought #16 would be perfect bc protector Din is like “I will fuck up whatever is making you feel like this” (surprise bucket head, it’s their own brain)

Melting Dew [Din Djarin x GN!Reader]

Prompt no.16 “Who hurt you?” — thank you for the request!

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attack, body dysmorphia, food mention, domestic!Din, Din and reader have pre-established relationship.

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 2000>

Masterlist

Din wasn't meant to be back for at least two more hours. The farmers market was about a three mile walk away from where he'd parked the Razor Crest, and he'd taken Grogu with him this time, who was sure to preoccupy Din whilst you were unable to accompany him. You'd spent the past week beaming at the thought of returning to Naboo, and craving the delicious, juicy taste of their native sourberries. Last night, before you fell asleep in Din's arms, you excitedly told him how you were going to purchase enough sourberries to last the entirety of the upcoming bounty hunting season. Din jokingly rolled his eyes at your comment and pressed a chaste kiss into your forehead, always finding your love for the simpler things in life extremely endearing.

Din Djarin spent the majority of his life a lone warrior. But upon meeting you and rescuing Grogu, it seemed like that all changed— and quickly, too. Now he was providing for the little green bean he called 'son', and you, the most beautiful, interesting and equally important person he'd ever laid his eyes on. Your appearance was soft, delicate, and your features were doe-like. In a galaxy filled with hatred and war, you were the epitome of hope and innocence. How could he not love you? He admired your attitude and excitement for life, and he adored the way you cared for Grogu unconditionally, like he was your own child. You were unlike any other person he'd ever met before. You were as pure as melting dew.

So of course he was protective over you. You, Din and Grogu had scowered the most dangerous depths of the galaxy and you all had your fair share of abuse from Imps, crime syndicates and immoral scoundrels. But there were people out there who tried to hurt you. However, they could never even get close to drawing a knife to your neck. Din was always one step ahead. Messing with you was no game. He hadn't let a single one of them live.

You'd awoken early this morning, quietly slipping out of bed and padding over to your closet in search for an appropriate outfit for the day ahead. You picked out a white tunic and embroided belt, along with some brown boots; but strangely enough, none of it seemed to fit. This was your favourite outfit and you wore it on practically all your days off. You loved the flow of it, and the way it hugged all the curves and accents of your body. But today... something wasn't right. The stitched tunic was tight around your arms and boxy on your shoulders, and as you looked in the full length mirror, your heart sank in your chest. The boots made everything worse. The belt didn't hang on your body correctly. And hell, it wasn't even just the clothes. There was something wrong with your hair today too— and your skin had broken out— and the dark circles that graced your under eyes had become significantly more prominent. You felt completely and utterly disgusting. There was no other word to describe it.

You heard Grogu stir from the quarters and you knew it wouldn't be long until he and Din woke up. You felt so embarrassed. So ashamed. The Mandalorian was an esteemed bounty hunter, best in the Guild, and also your husband— but Kriff, if he seen you like this... he'd shove you off his ship and make the jump to hyperspace within seconds! Panic filled you and the palms of your hands became clammy. He couldn't see you like this. He couldn't.

Just as you anticipated, you heard Grogu's garbles, signifying that the child was now awake and ready for breakfast. Din groaned something incoherent and you glanced over to him as he shuffled amongst the blankets. Your mind was still racing. If he saw you like this, he would for sure leave you. You had to hide. But where?

You bolted to the other side of Din's quarters and into the Refresher, turning on the shower and discarding the clothes that had made you feel so monstrous on the floor. Din heard the screeching noise of the Refresher and thought it was strange you were showering so early. The water was always particularly cold on a morning, and you knew this. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and headed over to grab some pots and pans. He was preparing bone broth for breakfast.

When you didn't join the duo, Din left a bowl of broth for you in the cockpit of his ship. After he finished washing the dishes, he knocked on the Refresher door. "Cyare, are you alright?" he called, his voice rife with concern.

"Y-yes, I'm okay." you lied through gritted teeth. You were sat on the cold tiled floor, a towel hugging your body as you shivered uncontrollably.

"I was going to leave now... for the farmer's market. The walk is quite far so I wanted to set off early. Are you still coming?" Din asked curiously, his gloved hand nervously tracing the details of the steel door.

"I think I'll skip today, but have fun with Grogu, and stay safe." You tried to sound as optimistic and normal as usual, but behind the closed door, a silent tear slipped down your cheek. There was a brief silence and you had considered maybe Din had already left. But then you heard his modulated voice again.

"Are you sure everything is okay?" He knew how much you'd looked forward to going to the farmers market. It was all you had been talking about for the past week. Sourberries.

"I'm fine!" you forced a smile, even though he couldn't see.

Din wasn't convinced, but he knew better than to push you. If you said you were fine, so be it. He believed you. He had no reason not to trust you when you'd been nothing but honest to him since the very day you met him, all those moons ago.

Once you were sure he was gone, you pulled your pajamas back over your head, and climbed into bed. You felt safe, and free from any judgement. You were all alone. And that meant you could cry. So, you did. You sobbed for what felt like hours. You laid on your side and clutched the thin blanket tight to your chest, almost like you were hugging it for comfort. Your whimpers echoed against the interior of the Crest and this was the only time you had been thankful for Din and Grogu not being around.

Until you heard the entrance to the Crest shoot open, with that all too familiar whizzing noise. Dank Farrik— they were back early. They were back and you weren't even dressed. Your eyes were red and puffy, your hair was sticking up in places. You were, to put simply, a mess. But you felt like you were no less of a mess than what you were when you had worn the white tunic and embroided belt this morning whilst they were still asleep. You sunk under the covers of the bed and tried to hide from them. You prayed to the Maker that perhaps Grogu would help you out and use one of his magical force abilities to make you invisible. Then you'd never have to face the oncoming conversation with Din. The conversation that was inevitable.

"Cyar'ika?" Din asked, putting Grogu down on the floor and approaching you hesitantly. Thankfully, Grogu was more preoccupied with the little silver beskar ball he'd always play with. It came from one of the many levers on the Razor Crest. Din gently pulled away the blankets, revealing your tired glazed eyes and your tear stained cheeks. "Oh, my love. What... what happened?"

You didn't answer, feeling a swell of guilt erupt in your stomach. Din removed his helmet and placed it on the nightstand, and your heart jumped at the mere sight of your husband. His dark eyebrows were furrowed together in bewilderment and his honey colour eyes raked your body. "Who hurt you?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave. It was low and gravely; and you knew he was very serious. "Cyare... did something happen? Did someone-"

"No." you cut him off quickly.

No? Din's mind couldn't compute that answer. There was clearly something very wrong, and Din had to find out what exactly it was. Someone must've done something. You were fine yesterday. Had someone been on the ship while he and Grogu were out?

"Whoever or whatever it is— I can fix it. I will hunt them down cyare, you hear me? They won't know what hit them. I can-"

"Din stop," you pleaded with weak gasp, bringing your hands up to hide your face. You felt nothing but shame. "It's not... it's not like that. It's me."

Din's expression changed almost immediately. His face softened, his perfect plush lips parted slightly at your confession. He sat on the edge of the bed and took your hand. "What do you mean?" he quizzed quietly, although he had an inkling he already knew what you meant.

"I got up early this morning, excited to venture out to the farmers market with you and Grogu. Excited to go sourberry picking. But when I got dressed, it was like... something just hit me. I can't put it into words but I just felt so... so... ugly."

Once again, Din's brain simply could not compute your revelation. Ugly? You? How could you possibly feel that way. You shared the likeness of an angel. How could it be?

You swallowed and continued. "And then I got afraid. I got so scared that you'd see me the way I see me, and you wouldn't want to be with me anymore. That you'd run away from me and leave me behind." you shrugged helplessly. Now the tears were beginning to free fall.

"I could never, ever, think that of you, riduur. I love you so much. How could I possibly leave you? Without you, my life would end. It would be meaningless." Din revealed, his chocolate eyes glossy as he cupped your face with his large hand. His thumb traced the height of your cheekbone and you found yourself subconsciously leaning into his touch.

"Don't say things like that," you whispered, shaking your head. "You don't need me around... you already had everything under control before me."

"But nobody to make me smile. Nobody to make me laugh. Nobody to bring me joy... or show me the pleasure of how to love, and be loved in return." Din huffed, pressing his forehead against yours. "Next time you feel this way, please don't hide it from me. Whatever you're going through, we go through it together. Okay?"

You sniffed before finally nodding your head in affirmation. "Okay Din."

Din leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, the curve of his nose bumping into your cheek as he manouvered his body carefully over you. "So beautiful, and all mine." He purred lovingly before licking a stripe over your lower lip. You moaned wantonly and interwined your fingers in his curly brown locks of hair.

It was moments like this that you cherished forever. The sweet touches and soft murmers that made you void of all worry and insecurity; because in that moment, all that mattered was you and your riduur.

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz

[dameronology]

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries 

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning 

It had only been five days. 

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe. 

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy. 

 ‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn. 

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’ 

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response. 

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’ 

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in. 

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting. 

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.   

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor. 

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’ 

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’ 

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled. 

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments. 

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours. 

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled. 

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries. 

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love. 

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep. 

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress. 

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him. 

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights. 

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile. 

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you. 

[dean-coded-john-girl]

thinking about a version of john who maybe sought out relaxation and/or an escape in weed during vietnam, and never really had to drop it completely bc mary’s hippie van wanting ass definitely didn’t care. after mary’s death, john smoked less frequently because it brought up thoughts of her, and alcohol had his full attention for the time being. but when dean is 17, and back from his first solo hunt, and is clearly having an anxiety attack, john has some on him. and he thinks that maybe the kid could use the help coming down from this. or at least a distraction.

dean is sort of just anxiously rambling to him about the hunt at this point, so he just cuts him off. “hey i’ll be right back. stay here.” so he walks off to ruffle through his bag to get it. dean’s eyes widen a bit when he sees what john has, but john just sighs. “c’mon.” he leads the way out onto the balcony of the slightly nicer hotel room they’re staying in (he figured the hunt would affect dean at least a little bit, so there was no harm in splurging on the extra comfort and security) and takes the only seat at the tiny ass table that’s out there to roll them a joint. dean is standing in the doorway awkwardly, beneath the motion activated light that illuminates the balcony in the night. still breathing a little hard and his eyes flicking around nervously. but his gaze eventually focuses on the motion of john’s hands. anyone else would think that maybe he was trying to remember this for future reference. but between dean and god, he was really just interested in the familiar sight of his dad’s steady fingers.

john brings the joint up to his mouth, and inhales as he lights up with a black bic. he holds for a moment, then exhales, and reaches to hand it to dean. “have you ever smoked before? cigarettes, anything i don’t know about?”

the poor boy is still shaking as he takes it from john. “no, sir.”

“good. god, i’m glad to hear it. now, wrap your lips around it. not too tight, leave a little room for air to pass through. and breathe in. then hold it for a minute.”

dean thinks he does what he was told. he even tries for a second hit. but john can tell just from looking that he’s not really inhaling, he’s just holding it in his throat. “you feelin’ anything?”

“uh. not really.” dean flushes, seemingly embarrassed about it.

john chuckles. “that’s what i thought. try again. and, uh, suck on it, dean.” he takes what john said a bit too literally, and he sucks on the damn joint. he immediately pulls off, coughing a lung up in the process. john jerks it from his hand. “god damn it dean. look, just—” he lightheartedly sighs, “come here.” dean looks at him like he’s off his rocker, and john snorts. (well, at least one of them is feeling it.) “would you quit that? get over here. closer.”

so dean hesitantly shuffles up closer to john. “this is called shotgunning. i’m gonna take a hit, and then i’m gonna blow it into your mouth.” dean somehow manages to pale even further, despite already being white as a sheet from the anxiety attack. then his face goes red again. “it should make this easier. and all you have to do is breathe. i would hope you can at least do that. okay?”

“…. yes, sir.” so john takes a hit, and holds it in until he gestures for dean to lean down to him. his right hand holds the joint, resting on his leg, and his left comes up to cup the side of dean’s face. when john gently blows the smoke to dean’s mouth, the personal space is nonexistent. their noses are nearly touching, and the eye contact is tense enough to kill him. he’s more than thankful that as dean inhales, his eyes flutter shut. he can feel dean’s jaw relax in his grip.

john smiles softly, full of unspoken affection. “any better?”

dean opens his eyes, and that fear that was buzzing behind them earlier is gone. his voice is almost a whisper. “yeah.”

and they repeat the process. with dean looking like this, getting more and more pliant and giggly each second, john himself is feeling loose. like the substance, or maybe the kid in front of him, has temporarily taken that drill sergeant attitude out of him. he’s feeling like a person, like just some regular dude, for the first time in a long while. so if dean slips down to straddle john’s lap for the next hit, who is he to complain? somewhere in between one exhale and the next inhale, his left hand has slinked around to sit at the small of dean’s back. but he doesn’t think to move it. he’s too absorbed by his son sitting on his thighs, with his hands on his shoulders. he goes to blow out again, and maybe dean’s arm has slipped or something, because the next thing he knows, dean’s lips are on his. after years of doing this with mary, he kisses back on instinct. john thinks that’s why he does it. but either way, dean is kissing him between sucking in the smoke in little breaths. and they both groan into it. and maybe john’s brain is more than a little foggy, because he doesn’t stop. he just pauses for one more inhale, and reaches past dean to put it out in the ash tray. but he comes right back to him, maybe even a little more involved than before. dean gasps when john goes to deepen the kiss. he licks into dean’s mouth, and marvels at the feeling of his boy’s tongue against his own. this is just to make sure dean is really getting the smoke in him, right? just to make it easier? that’s what it was at one point, anyways. but dean is moving into that calmer, sleepier side of being high. so john eventually pulls away. and dean just looks at him. just lazily stares. until john pulls him to rest against his shoulder. and dean lets him.

and maybe they just stay like that for a bit. john holds dean until he dozes off. and for the first time in years, he carries dean to bed. his own bed, so as not to wake sammy, who has been out for a few hours now. yeah, that’s why he does it.