#me self inserting into blaise? more likely than you think

[big-ronnev-fan]

Blaise Zabini has anxiety. He started medicating it when his boyfriend Theodore Nott took him to a mind healier. This wasn't mentioned cos it wasn't relevant to Harry's story.

[slytherflynn]

Old and New | Pt I

Blaise Zabini x muggle!reader

word count: 1971

summary: y/n is new to France on a study abroad trip. Blaise is visiting France post-Hogwarts. rags to riches story of an unfortunate muggle falling for a complicated, ridiculously wealthy person who just so happens to also be a powerful Wizard.

a/n: this started with an idea, became a moodboard, then became an entire fleshed out fic! I thought it would be short but my brain had other ideas. enjoy! note: I did write this from my personal perspective in life. as a result it is not very inclusive. I plan to change that with my next fics, I’ve just been having a really hard time lately and have been writing a lot of comfort fics and/or self-inserts to escape from irl bc irl is rly shitty for me rn

It’s a brand-new start, in a brand-new apartment, in a brand-new city, in a brand-new country... an ocean away from home. I can bring Tacoma to France, right? At least, that’s what I’m trying to tell myself. Study abroad is fucking... scary. I kinda regret it. It’s a good opportunity and for someone who doesn’t travel, it should be a fun experience. But I’m currently having an anxiety attack over taking out the garbage, so I’m not sure my positive self-talk is working.

I look out the window of my top floor apartment, wait until someone finally finishes walking down the stairs, and run out my door - I nearly trip about five times going down the spiral of death, my arms feel like jelly thanks to perpetually pushing my garbage deeper in to avoid this trip, and I swing with all my might to hurl my garbage bag into the trash compacting dumpster - only it hits the bottom lip and falls to the ground, splitting open.

“Great!” I say, sarcastically, “First they send my luggage to the wrong location, then they try to say my passport isn’t valid because my apartment was a temporary address, then I’m greeted with a fridge full of rotting food and no power, then I’m bitten up by fleas and now - I just- fuck. Why can’t I just- do anything- right-“ I cut myself off when I hear a screen door slide and blink a couple times to erase the threat of tears that had been creeping up on me while I ranted.

When I look up, I see a tall, dark-skinned guy about my age - handsome. He’s wearing a suit, and expensive jewelry. Combine that with the fact he’s living in the apartment building next to me, which is worth more than my life just for one month of rent, and I put together that he’s probably rich beyond belief. I quickly look away, not wanting to stare. I silently pick up my garbage, piece by piece. As I work, I feel eyes drilling holes in the back of my head. I ignore it. It continues, and I still ignore it as I finally shove my ripped garbage bag in the compactor and slam the door shut. I hear a slight jump up above, and chuckle to myself.

I zoom back up the stairs and almost make it to the top, but I trip 5 stairs away from my door - and fall, hard. Body laid out flat hard. Cheek scraped and stinging from the metal grating on the stairs, hard. Lost the goddamned slide that caught on the stair, and can see it gradually falling, bouncing and rolling down the stairs, hard. I lift my head and see blood on the stair. I feel it running down my face. All I can think is that this really fucking hurts. The tears come, a combination of pain and frustration, and I pick myself up and stumble my way into my apartment, completely forgetting about the attractive rich boy who just watched me be a danger and inconvenience to myself.

I rush to the kitchen and grab a roll of paper towels, and run to the bathroom, I see the markings in the mirror and can tell it will leave a sizeable scar. Do I need stitches? I don’t know. Anyway, I start dabbing at everything and blood is still oozing out of every nook and cranny, to my displeasure. I’m about to start bandaging my face when I hear a knock on my door. “Fucking Christ!” I mutter to myself as I slap a wad of paper towels on my face and sulkily go to fling open my door.

I’m not sure who I’m expecting, but to see the same rich guy on my doorstep, slide in hand, probably wasn’t it. “Hey, um, I saw what happened, and I thought you might want your shoe back.” His accent sounds very British - I was expecting it to sound more like a snooty Frenchman’s.

“Oh. Um. Thanks.” I say flatly.

As my muscles twitch to begin closing the door, he says, “Would you like some help cleaning that up? I have certifications to give medical aid... and stitches. My name’s Blaise, by the way.”

Doctor, maybe? Probably. “Sure,” I say, opening the door wider and standing back so the blood doesn’t drip on his suit. “I’m y/n.”

A few minutes later we’re in my bathroom, me sitting on the toilet, him sitting on the bathtub as he helps me fix my face. “So, Mademoiselle y/n,” He asks, “Do you find yourself in these predicaments very often?”

“Which one? Poverty, flea bitten, or bloody?” I say.

“I suppose whichever you’d like to think I was referring to.”

“Well, in *that* case - I’m usually caught unawares in all kinds of predicaments - though I’d say self-injury due to clumsiness is an uncommon one. And do you usually find yourself in predicaments requiring you to treat someone’s wounds?”

“I used to, though now it’s only on the occasion.”

“Sounds like an improvement,” I note. “I won’t guarantee it, but I think I’ll get the hang of walking up the stairs soon enough, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind it if I did worry about you once or twice more. Why were you running? It seemed like you wanted to get away from something. Does your garbage compactor smell that disturbing?”

“It doesn’t smell great,” I admit, “But truth be told, I’m not a fan of human interaction. It’s scary. Especially when everything is new to me.”

“How long have you been In France?”

“A few days, just enough to get myself physically settled.”

“I see. And you are from America?”

“Mhm. Let me guess, my accent gave it away.”

“And the slang, I’ve yet to hear someone from France use certain terms that you seem to favor.”

“Oh, most of my slang is specific to my city, not just my country.”

“Your city?”

“Yea, Tacoma. It’s near Seattle, if you know where that is. Tacoma’s better, though.”

“I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been there. My mother is a fashion designer, but she only travels where there’s inspiration or a business deal.” So that’s how he gets the expensive clothes. The rest of the money too, probably.

“Must be nice, having a handmade closet.” I muse. “Not that I care for having any more clothes than I brought. They’re pretty reliable, if I do say so myself.”

He laughs. “Yes, well, if the blood stains don’t come out of your jumpsuit you might need a new one. They shouldn’t be too difficult to remove, though.”

“Yea, I’ll just dump a bucket of Oxi-Clean on it and call it a day. That is, if any stores nearby have it.” I frown, realizing I have no clue if France carries any of the products I usually get. This is gonna suck. Hopefully the internet has some answers so I don’t have to ask anyone for help.

“Why don’t I take your jumpsuit back with me? Save you the trip. Believe it or not, I used to have chronic nosebleeds, so I know a thing or two about stain removal.” Blaise offers.

I smile, only just. “Well, if you insist. But I love this jumpsuit practically more than myself, so I expect it back right away!”

He returns the smile. “A fan of fashion? You ought to meet my mother.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure your mom would despise me - I only own seven jumpsuits and some athleisure for going on runs.” I pause, then tack on: “Oh, and some fuzzy pajamas for when I’m sick.”

Blaise cocks a brow at me. “And when you’re not sick?”

“Don’t worry about it.” I grin mischievously.

A wave of recognition graces his eyes, and he very quickly looks away, I assume for being flustered.

“You Americans, always so scandalous.” He tsks in mock scorn.

“That’s what we’re known for, is it not?” I say cheekily, “Beer, boobs and gun barrels. And all the other problems that come with that, but that’s a can of worms I am not looking to open today.”

He ties off his handiwork, and says, “It looks like my job is finished, other than stealing your jumpsuit off your back to fix it. I can wait in the other room, if you’d like?”

“Um, yea, that works. Lemme just, grab my next jumpsuit. Gonna have to do laundry early, I suppose-“

“I can wash your jumpsuit for you. I’m pretty good at reading labels, if I do say so myself.” He jokes.

“Oh?” I say, “Then you must be a real genius! Who taught you, Einstein?”

“No, but it was another white-haired, eccentric man, so you’re not that far off.”

“When all teachers are like that it’s kind of impossible not to hit relatively close to the mark.” I remark, then change clothes as quickly as I can, tossing the dirty outfit into a trusty plastic bag and tying it shut.

When I walk out to the living room, Blaise is toying with one of my sculptures. He’s definitely been meandering and lurking around. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, at which he jumps. “You’re rather skittish, Blaise.”

“And you’re rather quiet on your feet, y/n.” He observes. “But yes, I quite like your eclectic style. If only you had an apartment that let your customization shine. Something more minimalist.”

“Yes, well, it’s something I’ll forever dream of and likely never accomplish. I don’t suspect I’m going to be someone leaving the income level I was born into.” I say, just a little bit cynical.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because most people don’t, and the ones who do are the ones who make money. My career isn’t going to make me money.” I reply.

“So why did you pick it?”

I sigh. “Because somebody has to care about the people like me. The politicians don’t, the middle class don’t, and the rich are hell bent on keeping us there so they can have factory workers and have people going straight to prison after they graduate because we’re all desperate and miserable.”

He frowns. “That’s terrible.”

“It’s reality. And I don’t want to be like the people who get rich and stop caring because all they see is the wage difference and pretend it’s justified so they don’t have to feel complicit in the system.” I look him in the eye, my face grim. “Not all luck is by chance. Most of it is by design.”

He nods. “I understand, in a way.”

“Everyone does.” I say. “But understanding in a way and caring enough to do something about it are two different things.” I look away from him when I see his posture change. “I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s impossible not to notice the wealth gap between us when you’re wearing designer clothes and living in what looks like a mansion and I’m living in a building made in like 1900 with no elevator. It’s just the way things are, though.”

“I know.” He says quietly, thoughtfully. “I’d better get going. Your clothes?” He reaches out tentatively for the bag I’m still holding.

“Oh. Right.” I say, handing it to him. Our fingers brush against each other slightly, and it sends chills down my spine. He heads to the door while I’m rooted to the spot, collecting myself.

“I look forward to seeing you again, y/n.” He nods, meeting my eyes with a rather changed expression.

“I’ll see you soon, then?” I ask, not quite sure which answer I’m expecting.

He smiles, only just. “As soon as I am able.” Seconds later, he’s out the door, and I’m alone in my dingy ass apartment. How in the fuck did any of that just happen?

[senlinyu]

Hey Sen!! Would you ever write a pairing that’s Ginny centric? (With Harry or Draco or Theo((!!)) or Blaise....). I looooooooved Ginny in Manacled (she is definitely my favorite character), i think the characterization really was on point. Anyway, i got curious if you’d ever write more of Ginny. Love you 🤍

Probably not. The semi-secret fact of the matter is that Ginny is actually very much like me. I can write her as a supporting cast, but when I get too far into her POV I start self-inserting too much.

Hermione is someone that I admire more than I relate to, so it’s easier for me to keep her as her own independent person who makes choices that are unique from the ones I would make. And that removal of ego makes for a better story.

[mirclealignr]

Writing Update!!

fuck yes, i’m putting moi first

As i’ve said, I will not be taking requests for the twins anymore and have deleted what i had. The content i write for them will be very limited in the future. I will not apologise for this. Not only have i lost inspiration, but the stans for twins has gotten slightly out of control and it’s not something i want to be a part of. If I, and I alone, come up with an idea i’d like to write for them, then i will. But it will have depth, it won’t be sexualising them, and it won’t be such a shallow portrayal (no i’m not saying everyone does this)

Yes, again i’m not writing adult Sirius or Remus reader inserts. It makes me uncomfortable as a 17 year old to write for people twice my age. Again, i’m not apologising for this. My previous fics will stay up and i have deleted any requests i had for post war remus and sirius.

I’m not writing pregnancy fics or child fics. I don’t want children so this is completely unrelateable for me. Furthermore, marriage is the farthest thing from my mind at this point in time. I don’t think it’s something that will ever be on my mind, but we’ll see i suppose. I’m not apologising for this either. I have one fic i believe and one hc and yes they’ll stay up but i’m not writing more.

I don’t write smut, at all. I’m not writing implied, i’m not writing light, i’m just not. Don’t request it.

I’m going to start writing for minor characters. This will be new for me and my readers. But i think you should give these characters a chance, as i am. My writing doesn’t drastically lower in quality when i write minor characters and i would appreciate it if when i do, that people keep an open mind and give them a try. Characters i’m looking to write are Blaise, Cho, Fleur, Marlene and maybe a few others. This is something i’ve wanted to do for a while.

I’m in a sapphic phase so expect wlw fics. A lot of them.

Yes, I’m still writing Draco. but i’m writing him with god damn depth. No toxic relationships, no bullying the reader in a relationship ffs. I’m not comfortable with the recent rise in draco popularity for the simple reason that it’s risen because of Tom and not his character. But i’ve always loved the complexity of Draco and i’m not going to stop writing for him, but much less than i used to until this phase is over.

I DONT WANT TO WRITE JUST PURE FLUFF. don’t get me wrong, i love fluff. But fluff with no plot isn’t my thing, i don’t enjoy writing it and i feel like it doesn’t show case my writing in the best light. It’s frustrating when i write fluff with no plot in an hour and it does amazingly but as soon as i put a plot in it and spend WAY more time on it, it doesn’t do that well in comparison???? Don’t do that to me fkdjsnnd

IM WRITING ANGST! this is an angst blog, i like it and i enjoy where it takes my writing. I understand not wanting to read it, but bear in mind it will be a common occurrence on this blog. My favourite thing to write is angst to fluff and that doesn’t always mean the ending is a kiss, or the relationship in tact. Sometimes it means the reader coming to terms with a death, coming to terms with the fact that their self worth is more important than a relationship.

Tag Lists are being cut down and will continue to be cut down when i see inactivity. Don’t be afraid to just tell me you want removed, i won’t be offended. But on a lighter note, thank you to all my readers, i cherish your support.

Wow that felt good. Enjoy. Any questions, don’t hesitate to ask me. Thanks,

Lena

[kilibaggins]

Johnmurphyisbisexual's Writing Challenge!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(My writing challenge is a bit different because I'm opening it to be for SHIPS TOO! For Example: Drarry (Harry Potter) and Murphamy (The 100). But you can do ANY ship from any fandom!)

1.) Reblog this post (following me would be appreciated but it's not mandatory!)

2.) Send me an Ask with the full name (first and last) of the person you want to write for -or the name and fandom of the ship you want to write for- as well as the prompt you choose from the prompts I give you bellow! (Two [or one] prompts per fic and Three people per prompt) (You can write multiple fics for this challenge, but I might cut you off after a few. Because there needs to be enough for everyone.)

(I will be crossing out the prompts that are unavailable and I will be writing your account name and which Character/ship you're doing under the prompt(s))

3.) If more than 2k words add a keep reading option, so people don't have to scroll through it all if they don't want to read yours.

(It's fine if you can't since you can't do it on Mobile)

4.) No end date!

5.) Use the tag #ryswritingchallenge and tag me in it! If i don't see it in 2-3 days send me an ask telling me you did it!

FANDOMS

The 100 • Marvel • Harry Potter • Supernatural • The Hobbit/LOTR • The Walking Dead • And anything else, though I'd love to read these ones.

Writing Prompts (Send which list in ask):

Fluff

1. ) "Kiss me."

2. ) "Cuddle with me."

3. ) "Please take care of yourself."

4. ) "Dance with me."

5. ) "I'll take care of you."

6. ) "I'm happy I met you."

7. ) "Are you scared of me?" "No. Never."

Blaise Zabini X Reader | @angelinathebook

Remus Lupin x Reader | @shaynawrites23

8.) "I love you so much."

9. ) "I do."

10. ) "Marry Me."

11. ) "You're so perfect."

12. ) "I don't care if you have scars, you're handsome/beautiful anyways."

Bellamy Blake/John Murphy/Reader (The 100) | @justarandomgirlreadingstuff

13.) "It's not a defect, it's a special feature!"

14. ) "I'm Pregnant."

15. ) "God, you're so beautiful/handsome."

16. ) "I could read to you, if you want."

Bellarke (The 100) | @edgelessness

17. ) "Your hair is so fluffy!"

18. ) "Stop looking at me like that, or I'm going to start blushing."

19. ) "*Insert cheesy pick up line here*" "Try Again."

20. ) "You're the one thing in my life I don't regret."

21. ) "Hold my hand, I'll protect you."

22. ) "You can sleep, I'll keep you safe."

Murphamy (The 100) | @ceruleanoctober

23. ) "You're the only person that makes my self preservation fly out the window."

24. ) "Quit stealing all of the pillows!"

25. ) "I'm sleepy."

26. ) "I think in dying!!" "Baby, it's a cold."

27. ) "You're my new pillow."

28. ) "It doesn't matter what they think, I love you and that's what matters."

Remus Lupin x Reader | @shaynawrites23

29. ) "You're hands are so soft"

30. ) "Come back to bed, I'm still sleepy."

Angst

1. ) "It hurts."

2. ) "Please dont die, oh god baby, please."

3. ) "You broke my heart!"

4. ) "Don't leave me, I need you!"

5. ) "I'm sorry, They're dead."

6. ) "I want to die."

Blaise Zabini X Reader | @angelinathebook

7. ) "You said this time it'd be different!"

Bellamy Blake/John Murphy/Reader (The 100) | @justarandomgirlreadingstuff

8. ) "I don't love you anymore."

9. ) "Don't push mr away!"

10. ) "You are so selfish!"

11. ) "When will you stop thinking about only yourself and care about others?"

12. ) "You killed her/him/them!"

13. ) "I'm sorry."

14. ) "It wasn't your fault."

15. ) "It's all your fault!"

16. ) "I need to be alone."

17. ) "I'm dying."

18. ) "I have cancer."

19. ) "When did our love turn into possession instead?"

20. ) "You could've- could've stayed. You could've helped me fix things."

21. ) "Stop calling me."

22. ) "Why did they have to die?"

23. ) "Leave."

24. ) "Get out of my fucking house!"

Game Night Gone Wrong

Clarke Griffin/John Murphy | @malvieswift

25. ) "I thought you loved me?"

26. ) He/she/they're gone."

27. ) "Did you ever actually love me?"

Bellamy Blake x Reader | @im-a-writer-right

28. ) "My heart can't take this!"

29. ) "Stop! Please stop hurting him/her/them!"

30. ) "I love you." "Well, I hate you."

Bellamy Blake x Reader | @im-a-writer-right

Hurt/Comfort

1. ) "Get back in bed, you're still healing!"

2. ) "It hurts" "Oh, I know it'll be okay."

3. ) "I think I'm going to puke..."

4. ) "Can you see me?"

5. ) "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Clarke Griffin/John Murphy (The 100) | @malvieswift

6. ) "Can I have some water?"

7. ) "They can't hurt you anymore."

8. ) "Who hurt you?"

9. ) "Crying is a perfectly fine thing to do."

Murphy x *TBD* | @ceruleanoctober

10. ) "None of this was your fault."

11. ) "Its okay, let it out."

12. ) "Come here. Cry into my shoulder."

13. ) "You're safe."

14. ) "I'm not going to hurt you."

15. ) "Try to breathe for me."

16. ) "Don't cry baby, it's okay!"

The Great Pancake Mishap

Clarke Griffin/John Murphy/Emori (The 100) | @malvieswift

17. ) "Let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

The Great Pancake Mishap

Clarke Griffin/John Murphy/Emori (The 100) | @malvieswift

18. ) "Need to be held?"

Clarke Griffin/John Murphy (The 100) | @malvieswift

19. ) "Let's patch you up."

20. ) "I'm going to make you some food, and you're going to just lay there."

21. ) "How long has it been since you ate?"

22. ) "Those idiots hurt you, I'll tear them to shreds!" "..." "After I cuddle you and take care of you."

23. ) "I told you to be careful and what do you do? You go and break your arm!"

24. ) "You love me right" "Nope" "oh... Okay..." "No wait I was kidding! Wait!"

Remus Lupin x Reader | @the-moon-and-the-book

25. ) "Don't fucking touch her/him/them!"

Remus Lupin x Reader | @the-moon-and-the-book

26. ) "You can hold onto me if you're scared."

27. ) "Do you need a kiss?"

28. ) "Want to kiss it better?"

29. ) "They did WHAT to you??"

30. ) "I'm going to take care of you until you're better, I promise."

Smut

1. ) "Make Me."

2. ) "God, you're so hot."

3. ) "Did you just look me up and down and then bite your lip? Because if you did, then were having sex. Right now."

4. ) "You're so big."

5. ) "Stay quiet for me."

6. ) "You're my slut."

7. ) "I want to try something... Kinky."

8. ) "I need you in me so bad!"

9. ) "You like being full?"

10. ) "It hurts so good!"

11. ) "I'm going to eat you out/rim you for hours, baby."

12. ) "Can you cum again?"

13. ) "Alright, I'm not into choking, but I wouldn't mind if you grabbed my throat every once in a while."

14. ) "Beg for me."

15. ) "Aw, are you hard/wet? You need some help with that?"

16. ) "Kneel for me."

17. ) "You look so hot like this."

18. ) "I'm really sensitive."

19. ) "It's too much!"

20. ) "I'm going to overstimulate you all night, baby girl/boy."

21. ) "Don't you dare cum yet."

22. ) "Touch yourself for me."

23. ) "On your Knees."

24. ) "You're a pretty slut aren't you?"

25. ) "Fuck me."

26. ) "Harder. Faster!"

27. ) "Handcuffs? Sounds fun."

28. ) "I want you stripped and on your Knees when I get home."

29. ) "That wasn't sex, that was making love."

30. ) "I'm going to make you feel so good."

[retvenkos]

mosaics // draco malfoy

Harry Potter - A Draco Malfoy Story.

A/N: i said that one day i would rewrite my older stuff to make them better, and this was originally that. dramione no longer - i took the eight part story therapy session (2016 - a few months before cursed child) and revitalized it, taking it in a completely different direction. it’s draco centric, and i hope to have two more parts to it, but i want your opinion: should i make it a reader insert? i’ve been toying with the idea i’m still deciding where i should take this, so weigh in! also, i deleted the og therapy session because of some weird bugs with how it was formatted and the links.

Summary: Draco had been living this way for too long - tortured by the past and trying to fix the broken pieces the Wizarding War had left him with, making mosaics out of fragmented people and shattered relationships. It was only a matter of time before Astoria would leave him, unable to live with a remorseful sinner who lived for his past more than the family he had. But how does he move on, when his world becomes just another broken piece of glass, a part of some mosaic he has yet to envision?

pt. 1 // pt. 2

Draco stared at the floor, his eyes unblinking and still, his hands clasped in front of him as he leaned forward, his head bent. Short, unkempt hair fell forward, almost creating a curtain from which he could hide behind. He could close himself off from the world, then.

He almost looked like he was praying.

His sorrow was bitter, drowned is self-pity, thick in what could have been. If he were a different man he would have smashed every mirror in his godforsaken Manor, shattering the glass until it was grinding between his teeth, cutting his knuckles until they were bleeding out, spilling all that he was on these fine rugs and satin couches.

As the hours passed, he could fool himself into thinking he still saw her.

He pushed himself out of his father’s chair and staggered into their bedroom - his bedroom, now. The floors were cold - had he always carried such a chill? He used to hold his mother’s hands in these halls - they were soft but firm. He had thought, sometimes, that Death had  touched her. It was the cold, clinging to her skirts and weaving itself into her fine hair. The chill in her hands had been warmed, after the war. When Narcissa held Scorpius, there was in life in her once more.

When had that heat left? Did it slowly drift away, replaced with this pervasive chill? Or had it been ushered in when his wife had walked away, the door left ajar behind her?

No, this cold was at home, living in his chest and embedded in his bones. This cold was his. This chill belonged to him.

The early morning sun filtered through the window of his bedroom, pushing through the heavy curtains to illuminate the bed’s thick quilts and heavy blankets.

Was it morning already?

There had been a time when Draco had woken in those sheets, naked limbs tangled in the soft fabric, his hands intertwined with Astorias. He would turn his head and see her dark hair spread across the pillow, curling around every dip of the mattress, every crease of the blankets. She would look so peaceful, in sleep. In the early days, he would almost mistake her for an angel - her skin glowing, her dark eyelashes thick and long, her lips slightly open as she breathed deep and slow.

The sheets weren’t rumpled, anymore. They were neatly folded and undisturbed. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept in it, let alone laid with her beside him. The bed belonged to ghosts, now. It was inhabited by memories.

Something glinted in the light, catching the rays of the sun and glaring in his eye, drawing him forward until he stood at the foot of the bed.

A silver band with a dark green jewel in the middle, the silver wrapping around it like snakes, ornate and poignant. Draco reached for it with shaking hands.

It had been Narcissa’s before he had given it to someone else. His mother had been so happy when he said he was going to propose to someone he truly loved. She had been so proud, taking the ring that had once been hers and pressing it into his hands. He held it now and felt it’s gravity pull him down.

He had let her down. He always let his mother down.

He closed his eyes and a hot tear slipped down his cold jaw.

✧ *:･ﾟ

“Astoria, please…” he was pleading with her, again, his voice almost tired from how routine it all felt. “Don’t do this.”

He rounded the corner into their bedroom, expecting her to be sitting on the bed, her hands folded in her lap as though posing for a portrait, her expression far away from him and cold. When he saw her, though, she was standing with a bag on her arm and the sight of her stopped him in his tracks.

“You can’t talk your way out of this, Draco. Not this time.”  He heard her voice, this time, and he felt his heart constrict in his chest. “I’m not begging you to stay, anymore.”

Silence drifted between them as Draco grasped at his thoughts, trying to formulate some argument, some reason for her to stay.

“I’ll be better.” His voice shook and his eyes flitted across her stony, emotionless face. “I’ll go to those therapy sessions you’ve been wanting. I’ll cut back on my hours at work. I’ll be here. Just… don’t.” Draco willed her with his entire being, trying in vain to reach her, to make her change her mind.

He loved her. He really did. His soul was just heavier, now, dragged down by this cruel, unforgiving world.

“I don’t love you anymore,” and Astoria was sincere. “A year ago? Four years? That’s when you should have been telling me this. It doesn’t matter anymore,” and there was something like sympathy in her gaze. “You can work yourself into the ground. You can go to therapy for the rest of your life. I’m not worrying anymore. I can’t care anymore.”

Astoria turned away from him and Draco stared at her - her dark hair, her curves. He could feel her words carve themselves into his skin, but he couldn’t believe it. She loved him - she had to. Astoria was all he had left.

“Astoria, please.”

The woman ignored him, just gazed around the room as she slipped on her gloves, saying goodbye to the memories within those walls. After a moment, she spoke, her voice sounding like honey, it’s thick lilt masking the poison within. Draco felt it slip down his throat and stick to the roof of his mouth. “Scorpius is fifteen, now. He’ll understand.”

“I’ll do anything - everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Draco pleaded with her, and when he looked into Astoria's eyes, he saw that he had already done enough. She walked to the bed and leaned against it for just a moment, her palm pressing onto the mattress, her fingers splayed across the dark cover.

She was leaving, her charm enlarged bag already buttoned closed. She turned to face him, and he could see it written on every contour of her face - she was leaving, and if Draco knew Astoria (he wasn’t so sure, anymore), she’d never return.

She walked past him.

She wasn’t crying, but Draco was. But the pity on her face betrayed her, showing her sweetness. She had been him, years ago. She had cried, once, when she still loved him.

“I’m sorry, Draco.”

She left the Manor. He heard the door open and never quite close. Draco didn’t chase her, just stood there, his eyes glazed over, his arms like lead, his heart still and cold - a cavern where no light reached, where echoes called out to people who were no longer there.

A sob ripped through his throat, but it was foreign and didn’t sound like himself. The floor was hard and unforgiving when he met it, and he wished he had something like gravel to dig into his palms and scrape at his being. Things were too soft, here, for the reality that he faced.

Draco pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes and when his breathing evened out, he could pretend he was praying, a sinner showing remorse.

✧ *:･ﾟ

It was Pansy who found him in his sorrow. She unlocked the door to Malfoy Manor with a spell of her own design. She had created it when Theo, Blaise, Draco, and she had tried to get into her parent’s drinking cabinet during the summer before their sixth year. She had learned, then, that Draco was a sad drunk.

He cried to the only friends he had, his tears like crystal, shining against his pale skin. The world saw something tragically beautiful in Draco Malfoy, that night, and ever since, the man vowed only to drink in the solitude of his home, where no one could see his tears.

She found Draco drawn into himself, a bottle rolling nearby, his cheeks blotchy from crying, his eyes glassy with tears. Pansy knelt down beside him, smoothing his hair off of his forehead, looking at him with those guarded eyes, her concern showing in her knitted brows.

His eyes met hers and she pursed her lips, determining which approach would be best, given his state.

“She was all my goodness.” Draco spoke and his words were hauntingly clear. How long had he sat here, curtains drawn and doors locked? How long had he sat here, feeling the alcohol wear off in his system, leaving him weepy and alone? “She’s not coming back.”

Pansy sighed, her shoulders falling. She picked up the discarded bottle of firewhiskey and found a bit still swimming on the bottom. Draco reached for it, but she tipped it back, letting it sting her throat and she drank the last drop. Draco tried to scowl, but through his tears, he looked like a kid, again, trapped in that war he hadn’t asked for.

“It’s ill mannered to drink alone.”

“And I suppose you would know about manners, Parkinson?” And his words didn’t carry the bite they used to. He sounded tired, old. This world had dragged him down, and the weight of it was showing, his voice betraying that cool air that he paraded around this world.

“Look at us - lonely after all this time.” Pansy settled herself beside him, crossing her ankles and picking at the sleeves of her sweater. Draco leaned his head against her shoulder, more in a sigh than anything else.

They sat there - together in their misery.

“That war changed everything.”

“Things were going to change, somehow.”

Pansy didn’t ask about Astoria. She didn’t mention the wedding ring curled in his grasp, or the photographs sat down on their face, so that no one could see all that Draco had become. She didn’t need to ask to know what had happened. Things had been bad for so long, it was only a matter of time before she left, leaving something cruel in her wake.

It was only a matter of time before they would sit here, on the floor, coaxing the last drops of liquor out of a bottle, talking about their misery but never mentioning what caused it. It was only ever a matter of time before Pansy and Draco would sit together the way they had through their fifth and sixth years, cradling those arms that carried those terrible marks, crying over what they had done and who they would become.

All things stemmed from that war. They had been born from it, and it had never quite left them. It still laid dormant beneath their skin, permeating the flesh and tainting their souls.

Draco let his tears soak into her thick sweater. “That war killed us. We’re just walking to our graves.”

“I take it amends are easier said than done.”

Draco scoffed, something raw and cold that scratched his throat and made it bleed. It was painful, but nothing he didn’t deserve. “You’d understand, Parkinson.”

                    -- taglist: @musicallisto​, @babyplutoszx2​, @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine​

[hogwartsfirebolt]

ABSOLUTELY FRIGGING DELICIOUS CASE FIC: A REC

Venari Virtute - hupsoonheng - 57k - Teen and Up

Fifteen years after the war's end, a new, deadly curse has broken the peace of wizarding Britain. It spreads like a virus, and the Ministry has found no way to contain it or cure it. The case lands on Head Auror Potter's desk, and with it, a contract for Dark Arts scholar Draco Malfoy's expertise to help find the origin of the curse before it's too late. Complicating the issue, of course, is the fact that Draco never got over Harry Potter. Featuring Draco going to therapy, and Harry really needing therapy.

Thoughts under read more.

There is something wonderful about finding a beautiful fic without even trying, some kind of magic at work that waits for when you most need it and presents you with a story you didn’t even know you were looking for. That’s what happened to me with this little hidden gem.

If you have ever talked to me for over 2 seconds, then you probably know that I adore case fic. I love the mystery of it, the thrill as the puzzles are pieced together, the excitement of the duels and the extreme intelligence that goes into crafting this kind of plot. Having so much love for this trope, I always walk into it with the bar placed firmly high, and although I really enjoy reading it, it’s not very often that I find myself as surprised AND blown away as I did with this one.

The thing about this story is that it worked with a foundation I recognized from classics fandom tropes, themes I have grown to know intimately and adore, but spun in such a way that I was left breathless at every turn, having expected something, and finding that it was better, much deeper than I thought it would be, and this is true about EVERY ASPECT of the story.

Characterization-wise, we are shown a Draco who is trying to redeem himself in the only way he knows how, using his scholarly knowledge, working hard to re-insert himself into Wizarding life while struggling with being wandless and in an unstable mental position. He is weird, he is intense and uptight and incredibly lovely, in how sorry he is for everything that happened, and how hard he’s trying to face his own demons in a more or less organized fashion and come out victorious.

Harry, on the other hand, is a contained mess, a time bomb through and through, with the walls so high up that he got lost in his own fortress, and he is also the main thing that made this fic stand out to me, because his armor is constructed in a way I hadn’t read before, shown not only in his stoicism and cold, impenetrable demeanor, but also in his buzzed hair and missing fingertip, in the scars that cover his hands, his stiff back when he walks and the self-imposed emotional exile. His characterization is so deep, so good; he’s still Harry, his essence remains, but this is him in the aftermath of all the horror he went through as a child warrior, and then as an auror, this is a Harry who is profoundly damaged, and I felt him deep in my bones.

Their relationship in the beginning is, at best, horribly awkward. Harry is putting up his stony front, Draco has never been known for his interpersonal skills, and their attempt at working together always dissolves into some kind of disagreement, because they don’t know how to fit around the new versions of each other. More than once, I found myself thinking “now how the HELL are they going to fall in love?” but the author here did magic, I’m telling you, and it felt natural and organic, a delicate thing that started to blossom as Draco, slow and ever-stubborn, began to pick at Harry’s layers until he found the man underneath, and Harry, eventually, learned to reciprocate. They find light and softness, they learn what it’s like to care for someone who cares about you right back, and in this process of the discovery of each other, they also discovered parts of themselves that trauma had taken away from them, and it was incredibly emotional and very, very beautiful.

Mental health takes a leading role in this entire story, and it’s an immensely touching journey to go on, right by Draco’s side as he’s trying to heal, as he takes part in Harry’s healing process as well, with all its ups and downs. I had never read a story with such intense focus on it, and it touched me, it made me feel seen in ways I could never have anticipated, and at times it put tears in my eyes.

Now, in the midst of the HEAVY character development that this fic focuses on, we have the case, the Rabid Dog Curse, which is every bit as creepy as it sounds. It’s intriguing and incredibly well done, the magic at work unique and eerie, and throughout the story we’re given little pieces that allowed me to string together what I thought was going to happen and OH HI I WAS WRONG!!! I was surprised in that delicious way that makes you look back at the previous chapters and think “oh my god, I should’ve known.” Clever and subtle.

The side-characters only add to the wonder of this fic; Blaise and Pansy, who are wonderful people, Ron and Hermione, who love Harry so much, Rose and Hugo, who are cheeky and wonderful. All of their stories are only hinted at, but it feels real, it gives Draco and Harry new dimension, when we learn what they are like with the people they love.

There were moments where I melted into a puddle, like the conversation in the moonlight and the time they sit in that field in the afternoon, moments when I laughed so hard I had tears, like in Draco’s encounter with Hugo Granger-Weasley, moments where I wanted to jump through my screen and shake their shoulders because they were being ridiculous, moments where I wanted to hold their hands and tell them everything was gonna be alright, and this, to me, is what makes this story so grand. Despite having a case going on, despite all the mental hardship the characters go through, it made me feel like life is beautiful, and there is nothing in this world that can beat that feeling. I commend the author for a work so beautifully done, for how evident it is that every single word was put to paper with love and care and experience. I loved every bit of it.

As always, I’m going to leave ANOTHER LINK before I turn in for the night, and a thanks for sticking with my rambling all the way to the end ❤️ if you give this story a shot, make sure to leave the author some love in the comments and THEN slide into my DMs to gush together. Much love.

[doodlesfalloutcraze]

Here We Go...

Alrighty then, here we go!

This is the first post on my new self-indulgent blog that is completely dedicated to Fallout!

Mainly Fallout 4 at the moment, but I’m currently playing through Fallout New Vegas and I have the other games which I’m planning to play eventually as well!

Anywho, to celebrate, I went through my old Fallout 4 playthroughs and created backstories for all the characters I created! I hope... Somebody enjoys this? haha

(This got out of control really fast, so if you don’t want your dash absolutely destroyed by an info dump then don’t click ‘read more’ I’m so sorry)

All the characters here exist in the same universe and therefore only one of them is the sole survivor because I do what I want

This is Crystal. She is the character for my very first playthrough and also a self-insert (It helps me feel more immersed in the game okay?).

The sole survivor of Vault 111, Crystal emerged from the vault with very few survival skills. She didn’t know how to shoot a gun, wield a knife, heck, she barely even knew how to boil water. But the love for her son was greater than her fear of the unknown (And Deathclaws what the crap is that about).

While on her journey to find her son, Crystal tried to help as many people as possible and she did join the Minutemen, however, she refused the title of General, as she didn’t think she was in the right mindset to be leading anyone while trying to find her son.

When she first found Nick Valentine, she was immediately intrigued by him and it didn’t take her long to determine that he was just as if not more human than anyone in the commonwealth. In fact, she saw all synths as people who merely needed to be freed of the Institute to become their own people with their own thoughts, beliefs, and emotions.

Naturally, when she discovered the Railroad, she fit right in and vowed to help them free synths from the Institute. However, her methods are a little different than that of the original game. Rather than blowing up the Insitute, she instead agreed to take charge of it as well as raise Synth Shaun as her son in Sanctuary, but run the Institute differently.

She is still in the process of convincing the Institute to help the Wasteland and treat synths as people, however, it is the first step towards a better future. 

(realistically I know how incredibly difficult this would be, but shhhh let me live my dreams)

This is Rose. She is my most recent playthrough.

As a teenager, Rose lived in a small settlement with her younger sister. Until one night when her sister was kidnapped by raiders. She was determined to save her sister, even if she had to work for the raiders to do it. In the end, however, the raiders destroyed her settlement, killed her sister, and left her with a facial scar as she barely escaped with her life.

Ever since then, Rose was a drifter, not wanting to get attached to anyone for fear of losing them to her own mistakes. This is when she stumbled across a group of settlers, cornered by raiders in Concord. Maybe she wanted to redeem herself for her past mistakes. Or maybe it was just her hatred for raiders. Either way, she helped the settlers and escorted them to Sanctuary.

Originally, she planned to leave the moment they got to Sanctuary, but... they were so defenseless. And Preston was so nice. Maybe... She could stay... Just until they got settled and some defenses set up... Then she’d be on her way.

A couple of weeks passed, Crystal emerged from the Vault and Rose and Preston helped her get equipped a taught her some survival skills.

Soon Rose realized that she wasn’t going anywhere. And while she had previously denied the title of General, Crystal eventually convinced her to take it and now Rose lives in Sanctuary, traveling often to other settlements across the Commonwealth to help wherever she can.

This is Blaise.

Blaise was born and raised in the Brotherhood of Steel and was there the day that Danse joined the BoS. Blaise relies on her Strength and Endurance to survive and while she is an attractive woman, growing up in the BoS has given her a rough and rough demeanor that scares most.

She took a liking to Danse and tried to help him adjust to his new life in the Brotherhood. As time went on, she began to have feelings for Danse, however, she had no idea how to deal with them, not to mention elder Maxon’s feelings on ‘work’ relationships.

The day Danse was declared to be an enemy of the Brotherhood, Blaise was shocked, to say the least. She couldn’t believe someone she spent so much time with and trusted so completely could possibly be a synth. After Danse was declared dead, she cut off all her emotions and distanced herself from anyone she was even remotely close to.

Then, while on a mission, she came across Crystal... who was traveling with... Danse? Blaise broke down and all the emotions she had been bottling up exploded. Ever since then, Crystal has been helping Danse and Blaise overcome their prejudices and accept Danse for who he is.

This is Zetta (I really hate drawing backgrounds)

Zetta grew up in the Institute and therefore was given extreme schooling and very little physical training. Instead of relying on physical attributes, she relies on her mind and charisma as well as a little bit of luck.

Throughout her life at the Institute, she hated her parents, who were nothing special, merely janitors. Instead, she began to admire a man who not only was the best at what he did but additionally held a very important job: Kellogg. The man intrigued her and she saw him as a mentor.

The day the Institute brought back his dead body, she vowed to avenge him and while she was not as strong as him, she is willing to promise anyone anything to get what she wanted. Sometimes she’d follow through with the promise, but most of the time, she wouldn’t. It just depends on how far she needs to go to get what she wants.

Once Crystal took over the Institute, Zetta attempted to murder Crystal, but unfortunately for Zetta, failed. Crystal was forced to banish Zetta and Zetta was then forced to wander the commonwealth. She infiltrated settlements and caravans, sucking them dry of their supplies and slipping away before they even knew what was happening.

Finally, she stumbled into Nuka World, expecting to have to do exactly what she had been, but eventually realized these raiders were much like her, only their methods were much more... cutthroat...

She decided to join the Operators and was quite satisfied there, despite the growing tensions between the groups. That is until one day when a new challenger entered the Gauntlet and Colter was killed. Once again, Zetta’s way of life was being threatened... Crystal... Had become the new Overboss...

[marshmallowmalfoy]

Colors Of The Girl // Draco Malfoy // Pt. 1

Pairing: Draco X Reader

Type: Fluff? Kinda Angsty at first. Gifs inserted throughout.

Word Count: 2719

Summary: Metamorphmagus Y/N loses her mother when she was working as an Auror. Since then, she has had avoided human interaction at all cost. Draco didn’t know anything about what she was, so when her hair change colors before his eyes when he was giving her a hard time, he’s in total shock.

A/N: Pt. 2 coming soon. Not sure how I feel about this one... pt 1 isn’t very interesting between them... but next part will be better I promise! lmk what you guys wanna read.

Warnings: Suicide ment./self hatred, swears, name calling, physical violence, self-harm, suicide attempts... just some really deep shit.

Part 2 Part 3

Your free period was always the worst “class” for you, it gave you time to think… to thrive… to hate. Yourself. Her. The person that did this to you. Anyone. Everyone. If you had a chance to hate you would, you had to let your emotions out somehow. Since the second you first heard the news last summer, your hair had been a deep Navy Blue, besides a moment of confusion and anger here and there, flashing other emotions but always returning back to blue. Most days you spent sat out by the Black Lake or in the room of requirements. No one bothered you there.

But since the last snowfall, you’d been spending your free period in the library, sat far in the corner... it was warmer there. Most days you were left alone. Other days someone would try to flirt with you, or just spark up a conversation, but you never allowed it to last long.

Now, you sat waiting for the other students to leave for Christmas break, sitting in your corner of the library, no other student to be seen. That is… until the door creaked open revealing “The Slytherin Prince” and his usual entourage, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise Zabini. The pale haired boy was talking loudly as he walked in. That is… until he saw you.

“Look what we have here,” He said walking towards you, even though he never intended for you to be here. “Little Miss Quarter Blood.” He scoffed as he stopped in front of your table. “Not even good enough to a half-blood yeah? Your filthy half-blood mother had to get knocked up by some muggle and made you. Fucking waste don’t you think Pansy?”

“Such a disgrace. You shouldn’t even be a witch, you filthy whore.” Pansy spoke nastily. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t say anything. You just looked at them tiredly, wanting them to leave you in peace.

“You need to leave Y/N. Get out. I need to have a private conversation.” He practically spat his words at you. You looked at him, and in a complete monotone, you spoke;

“Why don’t you just go to the room of requirements like you have been every other night?” He was frozen in place, “I’m quite sure no one will be there.” You looked back down at your book. You heard him chuckle, then you felt your hair being pulled, and your shoulders slammed up against the wall.

“What would you know about that?” His eyes were narrowed down to slits, glaring at you intensely.

“Enough that you should just leave me alone before you give me a good reason to tell anyone what you’re doing in there.” You spoke in the same monotone. His grip tightened and he leaned closer to you.

“You don’t know anything.” He hissed into your ear. His friends looked entertained behind him. You only had to say one word;

“Vanishing Cabinet.” You whispered in his ear, making sure no one could hear you but him. He slammed your head back against the stone so hard you felt the heat of blood flowing down your scalp. He began to speak;

“If you tell anyone so help me Merlin I will-”

“Kill me? It won’t work I’ve already tried.” Your voice did not shake. His facial expression fell.

“You’re your mothers’ daughter all right. Too bad you don’t have parents to go home to this week. A filthy family you had. Father died straight off the bat. Mother dies just as you’re growing up. Must feel good to be an orphan.” He choked out as if he didn’t want to say it. He watched as you looked down at your shoes and slowly, hair by hair, the color that he clenched in his fist began to turn a violent red. He let you go and backed away slowly. You looked up to meet his cold face, your eyes now a screaming red.

“Malfoy we should go. Now.” Blaise said, beginning to back away. Before he had a chance to respond, you were verbally assaulting him.

“I’d rather be an orphan than be like you and have a father that doesn’t love me. Even worse, a mother who’s making no effort to ever stand up to what your father does. How ‘bout you roll up your sleeves huh? Let’s see what your mother let your father do to you.” He looked horrified. You, the quietest girl he’s ever met, was now going off. “Come on Malfoy!” You laughed, throwing your head back. “You wear it proudly right? Yeah?” You turned, “How ‘bout you Zabini? I know you’ve got one too. I’m not ignorant like everyone else. I can see it clear as day. So come on!” You were yelling now, “own up to it!” They all looked at you in shock before scrambling away. 

“Freak!” Pansy shouted after her as the door closed behind her.

~~~ It was two nights later, and you were in the Room of Requirements, sitting on a small sofa surrounded by bookshelves. It was really the only uncluttered part of the enormous room. From where you were, from the left of the door, you had a clear view of the door. That’s how you’d seen Draco all those times. But he’d never thought to look your way.

You’d noticed that he too stayed at Hogwarts this break, though you hardly saw him, you spent most of your time where you were sat now, reading endlessly until you’d fall asleep on your little brown sofa. You were at that point now, your eyes fighting to stay open to read the words on the page, your other senses becoming less keen.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out.” Startled by the unfamiliar voice, you reached for your wand and held on tightly as you pointed it in their direction. Here he stood, his hands out in front of him as a sign of surrender. Draco Malfoy. “This is how you knew.” He spoke quietly as you lowered your wand cautiously.

“You aren’t exactly cautious. Anyone could have been here, you’re lucky it was someone who doesn’t care if they live or die.” You spoke bluntly.

“I suppose,” He lifted a hand, pointing to the other end of your cozy sofa, “May I sit? I believe we have some things to discuss.” You shrugged and told him he could do whatever he wants, so he took a seat four feet away from you.

“We have nothing to discuss. We could never talk to each other again and I would be content.” You spoke in your flat voice, which seemed to lose its depth when your mother died.

“I want to know what the colors mean.” He spoke when he realized that going around the point wasn’t going to work in his favor.

“Read a book and you’ll learn all about it.” You retorted. “That’s not something you ask someone. That’s like me asking what your stupid dark mark means. But I’m not dumb so I already know.” You ran a hand through your blue hair.

“You’re not scared of me?” His voice was quiet.

“Of course I’m not scared of you.” You looked away before mumbling, “I’m not scared of anything anymore. You lose fear when you have nothing to fear for, had I the need to fear for my life perhaps I would be afraid. Even then you wouldn’t kill me. But my life ended when she died. I have nothing to live for.” You didn’t meet his eyes, unsure as to why you were spilling all this information to him.

“Love?” You scoffed at his comment, a stripe of yellow coming from your roots and flowing out the ends of your hair.

“Love isn’t real, simply a societal stigma towards enjoying someone.” You rolled your eyes and leaned back into the cushions.

“Love is real. I feel it every day.” Your entire head of hair turned green as he spoke.

“Well, whoop di doo good for you!” You rolled your now green eyes and glared at him, your hair fading back to blue. He then had an idea. He wanted to see how many different colors he could make your hair.

“You know I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. I really am. I know it was wrong of me to say those things.” You were skeptical, small twinkles of Silver waved through your hair and speckled in your eyes. His words were honest. They had meaning behind them. “You know you’ve got really nice eyes, almost as nice as your smile.” Your hair was now a very light pink before fading to white.

“What are you doing Malfoy. What are you up to? Buttering me up so I don’t tell anyone about your stupid plan to kill everyone? I don’t care I’m not going to tell anyone. Just leave me alone.” Your hair was a pale orange for a moment before fading back to blue.

“Okay fine.” He hopped up, “Which one of these books-” He gestured all around him to the semi-circle of bookcases around you, “-will tell me about… your… hair.” You rolled your blue eyes.

“Why are you so suddenly interested in it.” You muttered, not actually looking for a response, but you got one anyway;

“You see my darling Y/N,” He took steps toward you, “Have caught my attention, and quite frankly I want to break you down and get to know you. One way to start is that… beautiful hair of yours.” He gave a nasty smirk, “You should expect to be seeing a lot more of me.” You scoffed and just pointed to the bookshelf where he would find the book he was looking for.

Once he sat down again, he pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, preparing to make a cheat sheet for himself. By the time he had finished his cheat sheet and gathered what he wanted to know, he had noticed that you had dozed off, your knees tucked to your chest as you rested your back against the arm rest. Your hair was yellow, your eyes closed peacefully.

He looked down at his cheat sheet. In small sloppy writing it said:

Pink - Embarrassed / Flattered

Blue - Sad / Distressed

Purple - Love

Yellow - Happy / Amused

Orange - Frustrated / Annoyed

Red - Angry / Furious

Green - Envy / Jealousy

White - Mixed emotions

Grey - Confused

Black - Scared / Terrified

Brown - Calm / hopeful

This was the first time he had seen you happy. He began to wonder if you would ever be happy awake.

~~~~

You and the Slytherin Prince had been spending some time together, you’d never object to having someone around to talk about books with. He often tries to bring up other subjects, asking about you or talking about school, but you just want to talk books. Some days you two read, some days you would sit in a big red chair that Draco dragged across the entire room of requirements and read while he would silently work on the vanishing cabinet. Not a ton of talking would occur in the first couple hours, only occasional ‘are you hungry?’ or ‘are you enjoying it?’ from him. From you it was mostly, ‘how’s it coming?’ or ‘would you like some help?’

You sat there now, the Malfoy Heir sitting only a few feet away from you on the floor, frustrated and slumped down in anger. You sat sideways in your chair, deep into Modern Herbs and Healing Volume VII. 

“I can’t figure this damn thing out!” He groaned in frustration.

“May I offer my assistance?” You spoke, letting the spine of your book fall closed.

“No... I have to do this myself. I have to.” He ran his hands through his platinum blonde hair.

“Okay... Whatever.” You simply opened your book and kept reading for a moment before letting your book fall closed again. “Malfoy?” Malfoy turned to see your hair slowly during brown, strand by strand. “I noticed... your marks aren’t particularly good in  Astronomy... I was wondering if you maybe wanted some tutoring?” He smiled lightly at you, then opened his mouth to speak. “Actually, don’t answer that... just meet me in the astronomy tower tomorrow night if you want help, if not... just don’t come.” You stood up and dismissed yourself, your hair still brown as you hoped to be joined by Malfoy tomorrow night.

~~~

The next day, your hair wasn’t quite as blue, it was more blue with thin brown highlights, hardly noticeable, but it wasn’t invisible either. Pansy caught onto this quickly and approached the y/h table at breakfast.

“Well hello there Bitch Y/L/N.” She snarled, shoving your plate away from you and sitting on the table in its place, making your hair flash orange before turning back to completely blue. You said nothing as she watched you for a reaction, which you didn’t provide her with. “Oh come on, you’re so boring.”

Unintentionally, your eyes drifted over to Draco to get some sort of help... he was the only person to seem to maybe care for you. He was watching everything go down with his friends, they were all shoving each other and laughing at you. It was then when you realized he didn’t actually care for you at all, he just didn’t want you to rat him out about the cabinet. You were pulled from thought when Pansy laid a solid smack on the back of your head.

“Hey, stupid who are you looking at?” Pansy looked over her shoulder to see Draco watching you guys with a stupid smirk on his face. She immediately broke out in loud, obnoxious laughter. “No way! This is golden! You fancy Malfoy?” She laughed even louder. Pink streaks ran through your hair before your entire head turned white. “Why would a pureblood like Malfoy ever care for a quarter blood freak like you. You’re repulsive. I’m sure he’d rather kiss a pig than your ugly mug. How could anybody ever care about a freak like you.”

You said nothing. Realizing she was right, your hair turned a deep, dark blue. You stood and walked out. What you didn’t see, was Malfoy pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment and checking what your hair had done.

You skipped all your classes that day, you just laid in bed all day, staring up at the ceiling. One by one, each strand of your hair lost all color, your eyes lost pigment. 

You didn’t feel anything. There was nothing left to feel... All the emotions were drained, all dried up. That was when you decided you were done. You left your dorm before the end of dinner and sat on the edge of the black lake until the sun had completely set. It was quite beautiful for your last sunset, but surely it did not change your mind.

You wanted to see the stars one last time, but once you did, you were ready. You kept your uniform on, you simply walked, one foot after the other, into the black lake. As your fingertips reached the water, you traced designs in the water, speaking to yourself, “I always was the lonely kid with the ugly face”

Your plan may just have worked, had you not forgotten one fatal flaw. You not showing up to the tutoring session caused Draco to worry. When no one had seen you, he grew even more concern.

Being a Prefect, he could stay in the common room after hours, which he was doing at the time you decided to take your last (permanent) dip in the lake. You also had overlooked the fact that the Slytherin common room had a window straight into the black lake.

[slytherflynn]

Steven Universe

A/N: Hey guys! I’m back with another self-insert in honor of having 80 followers! I love all of you <3 Feel free to request anything at any time, I’ll be glad to write it! Anyways, hope you like this! :)))

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Warnings: None (Fluff)

“If I could, begin to do, something that does right by you, I would do about anything, I would even learn how to love...”

     - If I Could/Love Like You, by Rebecca Sugar, from Steven Universe

“Go away, Draco!” Y/n yelled, throwing a shoe at the door of her dormitory. “I’m done!”

She sank down onto her bed, crying. This was the second fight this week, the fifth one this month. What happened to us? Y/n thought to herself.

Y/n had found Draco bullying a Muggleborn wizard three years below them. She told him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. Finally, she just used rictusempra on him, and walked the lonely and sad Hufflepuff back to his dormitory, apologizing the whole way for Draco’s behavior, saying how it’s not bad to be Muggleborn and that both of her parents were Muggleborn, and look at how great they had become, etcetera.

When she returned to the Great Hall, she saw that Draco had gone. She suspected he went to the Slytherin common room, so she went and found him there. She started arguing with him, saying why-can’t-you-just-be-nice and I-can’t-believe-I’m-dating-such-a-rude-person.

He said a few choice words, as well as, “Stop pretending to be a pure-blood, y/n, everyone knows you parents are mudbloods. You might as well be one yourself, or even worse, a squib.”

Y/n slapped him across the face, stormed to her room with him following behind her, dumbstruck, and locked the door so he couldn’t get in. Which brings us back to the siutation she was in at the moment.

Did Draco really think that of her? It’s come up before, and he denied that he could ever think differently about her because of her heritage, but he’s been in such close contact with those stupid Death Eaters in the last few months, maybe he’s changed.

Y/n was talking to Blaise about it just at the last meeting for the Slug Club, and he thought the same thing. “It’s idiotic,” he’d said, “And the very idea that it’s in good standing to give up your education for a life of murder and chance being thrown into Azkaban, further ruining your family’s reputation? It’s ridiculous.”

Draco must’ve changed then, or how else could he have said something so horrible to her?

She was so hurt. She hadn’t asked to be born into a family of two Muggleborn parents. They were what she got, and personally, she didn’t care about lineage. What she did care about was that Draco judged her abilities based off of her parentage. Everyone in Slytherin house knew she was the best at curses. It may not have been something that is normally desired to be the best at, but it’s still something, at least.

Y/n didn’t know how long she had been crying in the dorm for when she heard something being slipped under the door. She looked over, and saw it was a piece of paper.

She walked over to the door and sat down with her back against it, picking up the paper, she flipped it over, and saw it had writing on it.

“If I could begin to do something that does right by you, I would do about anything, I would even learn how to love.”

It was in Draco’s handwriting. It was a quote, from a show y/n watched with her Muggle friends before she came to Hogwarts. Y/n had told him about it before, but only once. She didn’t think he would remember it, especially because it was created entirely by Muggles.

She wondered... y/n slipped it back under the door, halfway, and waited. A few seconds later, someone grabbed it. Y/n waited again until it was slipped back under.

Under the quote this time, Draco had written: “Please open the door.”

She stood up, unlocked the door, and opened it up a crack. Draco was there.

“Y/n,” he said, “I’m so sorry, I-”

“Don’t make excuses.” Y/n interrupted sharply.

He hung his head. “I’m not. I know what I said was wrong, and I know we’ve been fighting a lot more now than we used to, and I know it’s my fault.” he paused, and looked back at her, hopefully. “But I was thinking about this all, and I realized that you’re too special to lose. I will do anything you ask, y/n, if you’ll please just give me another chance.”

There were still tears in y/n’s eyes. “What makes you think you deserve it?” She asked, coldly.

He didn’t lie. “I don’t.”

“Exactly.” She started to close the door, but he stuck his hand in between it and the door frame, and said quickly, “Y/n, I love you, please, I’ll- I’ll change, I’ll- I’ll stop working with the Death Eaters, I don’t know how, but I’ll do it, for you!”

This made her stop. “How do you know that?”

“Blaise told me you two had been talking about it. He was trying to help me. With the relationship, I mean.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

For what seemed an eternity, neither of them said anything. Then y/n spoke. “Do you promise?”

He said, “Yes. I promise to do what I said I would.”

“Then you get one shot.” she answered.

Draco looked shocked. “Really?”

“Yes,” y/n said, “But that’s your only chance. Don’t screw it up.”

Draco opened the door the rest of the way and wrapped y/n in his arms. “Thank you, y/n, I love you so much. I won’t forget this.”

She said, “I love you too, Draco.” Into his shirt.

He kissed her on the forehead, and Blaise walked around the corner at that very second. “Ewww, get a room!” He shouted, very loudly. He grinned devilishly.

Y/n shouted back, “Why should we? You never do!” at which Draco laughed.

Blaise said, “Because, I am entertainment here, duh!”

Draco yelled behind his back at his friend, “Just shut up and go away if you don’t want to see it, Zabini!”

Blaise sighed, and reluctantly left. The smile on his face showed he was perfectly satisfied with what he saw, though.

Y/n and Draco focused on each other again.

Draco said, “I’m sorry, y/n. I hope you know that.”

She smiled. “I do. And I forgive you.”

Her boyfriend kissed her again on the forehead and she closed her eyes, sighing into his shirt. This boy may not have been perfect, but he did love her, and she loved him, too.