#sometimes knowing what the floor underneath the barrel looks like really shows you just how good the better stuff is

[shower-racoon]

honestly, at this point, I think I'm developing an ironic love of garten of banban. it's completely abysmal (except for the comedy and maybe a couple of the puzzles, maybe the music is good too but I wasn't really paying attention to the music so I can't confirm), but they're still pushing out new chapters, and it's kinda fascinating just how messed up everything is. like an ironic "go banban devs! how fucked up can you make this!"

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

heyo your imagines are amazing and i like reading them so much. i really appreciate you for writing for Alice in borderland as there isn’t a lot of content out there~ can you please write an imagine for niragi where the reader has been at the beach for quite the time and when she gets to know niragi she somehow falls for him because she sees right through him, and that he maybe starts to develop feelings for the reader too because she’s fearless and very confident. if it’s not too much trouble, could you make it a bit suggestive as well? thank you in advance~~

Of course I can! I’m not the best at writing with suggestive themes so I’ll try my best! 😅 I’m sorry but I changed the story line a little bit for it to fit more, so I hope this is still kind of what you had in mind.

Unlovable | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. Ann, Aguni, Hatter, Mira, Chishiya, Arisu, Last Boss)

Summary: Niragi finally finds you, who loves him for who he is, well, not exactly. And he gets a bit too attached.

Warnings: toxic relationship, suggestive themes, a lot of gaslighting, obsessive themes, a little bit angsty, threatening, choking, swearing, name calling

Word Count: 3.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: Sorry this took a while to post. I was busy for the past couple of days so it’s kinda rushed 😣

“Y/N! Come quick!”

You jolted awake as Ann burst into your room, shaking the door frame from the force. You blinked your eyes to adjust to the light, looking at her dazed.

“What?” you murmured, sitting up and out of the comfy sheets on your bed. 

“The executives have called a meeting. They say it’s urgent,” she stressed, rushing up to the side of your bed and ripping the duvet off of you.

You shivered and sighed loudly in disappointment. “Why? It’s too early for this shit,” you whined, rolling back onto your side and closing your eyes again. These urgent emergency meetings have become ridiculous, always taking place in the morning when everyone’s still sleeping. You would gladly have quit having the higher place at The Beach if it meant for you to have some peace and quiet.

“Now!” Ann pushed again. You groaned in annoyance and got out of bed. She seemed serious, so you didn’t want to anger her more.

You both quickly made your way to the top floor where the meeting room for the executives was located. You noticed Ann’s heavy breathing and worried expression, making you anxious as to what she thinks could have happened.

Hatter had left the night before to replenish his visa, having a big celebration as he drove off with Aguni and a few more of his men. Things had been becoming more tense as time went on. It felt wrong watching Hatter drive away so reluctantly. You offered to assist him in his game, seeing as you earned yourself a high number at The Beach from clearing many difficult games yourself. But Hatter declined, insisting that he would return to The Beach safe and sound before you knew it.

But unfortunately, he was wrong.

You and Ann rushed into the large room. You saw Arisu and Chishiya standing near the end of the table placed in the middle of the room. You strolled over to them and laid eyes on the scene before you.

There, Hatter laid dead on the table. Limbs spread out lifeless, skin pale and dead. The horrific sight made you feel sick, making you cover your mouth with your hand. The scene almost felt unreal, this shouldn’t have happened. Hatter wouldn’t be dead if you just went with him.

Ann walked over to his body to examine it, but before she even had the chance to touch the bullet wound embedded in his bare chest, Niragi barged into the room with his usual cocky and obnoxious aura filling the air like a bad smell.

“Oi, don’t touch him as you please. You dissection maniac,” he growled.

Your eyes followed him closely. Now that Hatter was gone, people like him could start dangerous trouble at the hotel. But, as long as you said something about it, you would make sure Niragi wouldn’t start any fires that he’s not willing to put out himself.

After all, you were the only person who knew his true self, and how he perceived everyone around him. It was pathetic really. In a way you took pity on him. Such a simple tactic for the brain to protect itself, become a heartless and cold monster towards others so no one could ever do the same to you again.

With Niragi, unfortunately it was hunt or be hunted.

You kept your strong gaze on him as he lifted his eyes to meet yours from across the table for a hot minute. His dark orbs glistened as they locked with yours, making the tension in the room become thicker as every second passed. He smirked in your direction before turning away.

“He was shot by a gun,” Ann stated, breaking the thick silence in the room. She looked over the small hole in his chest in fascination.

“What will happen to The Beach?” a young man asked who was standing nearby you. You stayed silent, not wanting to start anything that may end in chaos. You always had good points and valid arguments, but sometimes you knew when the best time was to bring them up. This was not it.

“I mean it’s only reasonable for the strongest to become the new leader!” Niragi exclaimed over everyone. “We need someone who can take good care of The Beach and keep order,” he yapped on, swinging his sniper rifle all around making a few people flinch when he aimed it at them.

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. Trust him to be the most opinionated.

“I say, how about Aguni as our new leader,” he suggested, leaning forwards onto the table and watching everyone like a hawk. Aguni held no reaction, keeping his usual cold stone expression while having Niragi speak for him.

After no one reacted, all looking down to the ground to avoid Niragi’s gaze, he stood up straight and pulled a bored expression. “That’s not a good reaction,” he mocked, “Last Boss?”

You glanced over to where the hooded figure stood, watching in fear as he unsheathed his katana sword and rushed over to Ann, holding the deathly sharp blade a few inches from her throat. Your heart leaped to your mouth. If he was to try anything, you were ready to start chaos.

But nothing of the sort happened. Ann simply sighed frustratingly and held up her hand obediently. Niragi hummed, approving.

“This isn’t a majority vote,” Mira hissed from next to him.

Niragi stood and leaned his face close to hers, holding the barrel of his weapon close to her face to threaten her. “But it is! Isn’t it? After all, you’re all free to vote as well.”

One by one, he slowly circled the table, each person being scared for their life the closer he got to them. But you remained calm next to Chishiya, knowing that considering the relationship you have with Niragi, he wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you. He didn’t have the guts to.

As he moved from Chishiya, he finally locked eyes with you. He quickly strolled up to your still frame, stopping suddenly very close to you in an attempt to make you feel threatened. ‘As usual,’ you thought to yourself. ‘The old “I’m taller and bigger than you so I’m stronger” stupid tactic.’

“And what about you princess? Care to raise your hand for a vote for Aguni?” he hissed into your face. You held your neutral expression, becoming bored from this act he was putting on. It was purely for show, and yet wasn’t everyone’s personality? But Niragi, his act of this scary psychotic man angered you to your core.

“What if I don’t?” you snickered, walking towards him in an attempt of intimidation. He took a step back in shock. “It’s not like you need my precious vote, you already have so many.”

Niragi’s usual cocky smirk melted from his face, turning into a frustrated scowl. You felt him put his rifle underneath your chin, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “Be careful with that tongue of yours sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to lose it,” he growled quietly.

His threat made you smirk, almost bringing butterflies into your stomach. “I think you should be more concerned about that head of yours. You wouldn’t want to get it stuck too far up your own ass.”

You flinched as you felt his rough hand shoot from his rifle to your neck, instantly tightening around your throat making you widen your eyes in surprise. You lifted your arm and gripped his wrist in case he tightened his hold anymore. The look on his face was deathly. If looks could kill, you’d be already a few years into the afterlife.

Chishiya stood beside you watching the whole scene. He knew better than to intervene, as he could tell that Niragi wouldn’t ever intentionally permanently hurt you.

Niragi held you still as he leaned down to your ear, his hot breath hitting your sensitive skin. “Shut your fucking mouth you brat. You wouldn’t want me to hurt you too much later, would you?” You cringed as you felt his tongue slide behind the back of your ear, the piercing making you shiver.

“Niragi,” you heard Aguni say, saving you from the public embarrassment of getting felt up by Niragi in front of everyone you knew. “That’s enough, I think she gets the point.”

Niragi grunted in annoyance before loosening his fist on your neck. You sucked in a huge gasp of air, coughing slightly. Chishiya placed a gentle hand on your back in a sign of care, hoping that you’re okay.

Niragi aimed his rifle lazily at Chishiya’s face. “She’s fine, don’t touch her. A little choking is nothing she can’t handle.”

Chishiya immediately took his hand off of you, being taken back by Niragi’s comment.

You stood up straight after recovering, laying your eyes back on Niragi as he continued terrorizing the executive members.

God you hated that man. You hated how much you loved him.

*************

The room was now empty, consisting of no one except for you and Ann, who was still looking over Hatter’s body for any other injuries. You watched curiously, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“Seems a bit weird, doesn’t it?” you spoke up through the silence.

“What does?” Ann answered, not bothering to look at you.

“Someone with a hundred percent winning streak dies now? Just as the tension between the militants and the others was getting to its peak?” you questioned.

Ann rolled her eyes sarcastically and turned towards you. “Took you long enough to figure out. Really? You didn’t suspect that from the start? Even after that shit-show that Niragi pulled earlier?”

You were taken back by her sudden anger. Ann never became mad at you, even if she had a legitimate reason to. You looked at her as she stared into your eyes intensely before sighing and turning back to Hatter.

“Sorry Y/N,” she apologized. “I’m just stressed. This shit is getting too heavy to handle, and now with Hatter gone and Aguni in his place, who knows what will happen to people like you, me, Mira, Chishiya and Alice. They could kill us if they want to.”

Her words hit your heart heavily. It was true. Aguni and his militants were never a particularly predictable bunch. And you weren’t exactly on all their good sides, well, except for Niragi’s.

“Sorry Ann,” you muttered out quietly. You thought it would be best to leave her alone. She obviously was quite distraught from Hatter’s death.

You shuffled out of the room, head held low in despair. Who knew what would happen to this place now? It was like a ticking time bomb only no one knew how long there was left until it exploded.

As you walked through the large door frame that led outside of the meeting room, a sudden grip on your arm brought you out of your thoughts and made you yelp. You were yanked into a hard chest, being held close and tight.

“Hey love. How are you feeling?” the person growled. You looked to see it was none other than Niragi himself. Of course it was, who else would treat you so roughly?

You stared into his ominous eyes, trying to read him. He ran his hand down your back slowly causing you to shiver. “Niragi,” you breathed out. You pushed against his broad chest to separate you. “Sorry, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

You stepped away from him and tried to escape down the hall, but he grabbed your hand before you could go anywhere. “Bullshit. You’re never in the mood. And the sass you were giving me in there in front of everyone says otherwise.” He pulled you back towards him, pushing your head onto his shoulder and nuzzling into your neck. “I didn’t like how you treated me, it made me upset.”

He was lying through his teeth, knowing that making you feel guilty for defending yourself against him would bring him more of your attention. Simple gaslighting, worked every time.

You chuckled against him then leaned back and cupped his face with your hands. He held a sad expression on his face, obviously to make you sympathetic.

“You’re such a big baby,” you laughed. “Try to act so tough and dominant in front of everyone, but look at you now. Crying into my shoulder about your feewings?” you mocked him. Niragi scowled and pulled his head out of your hands. “Shut up, as if you’re any better.”

It was true. That’s why you both clicked together. He was a gaslighting maniac who knew how to put up a fake ‘nice guy’ façade around you and you were a tough and snappy woman, who felt much too much empathy for others.

That’s how you fell into his trap. He used your empathy to his advantage, making you fall in love with him so he could have what he’d always wanted. Someone who loves him for who he is, no matter how many masks he had to put on for them.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a small peck onto his lips. “Can you promise me something?” he suddenly asked after you pulled away from his face.

You grew anxious about what he wanted and nodded your head slowly in hesitation.

“When the chance comes, can we leave The Beach together? Like, run away?” he questioned, snaking his arms around your waist and squeezing tightly.

You laughed at his question, making him frown. He was being completely serious. “And go where Niragi? There’s not exactly a place we can go to.”

“Anywhere,” he answered sharply. “We could find a nice little hideout in Tokyo. Just you and me, no one else.” His grip on your waist tightened, making you flinch in his arms slightly.

He could see you tossing between answers. It wasn’t working, he had to try something else. He put on the fakest sad face he could do and pressed his forehead against yours while pouting. “Please? I promise I’ll take care of you.”

You practically melted as his begging. “Okay,” you sighed.

“Promise me,” he reminded you, running a hand through your soft hair.

There was a short moment of silence before you answered. “I promise.”

*************

You laid in your room with the sheets tossed lazily over you. Niragi was called to go talk to Aguni again before he went to sleep, so you were waiting for him.

Your eyes scanned your book quickly, wanting to finish the chapter you were on before Niragi returned. Because god forbid you having your attention on something that wasn’t him when he was around.

You glanced over at the door when you heard it creep open and Niragi stepped in, placing his sniper rifle carefully on the ground nearby and removing his boots.

“You took your time.” you teased, putting your book on the nightstand and sitting up in bed. Niragi groaned tiredly, stumbling over to your shared bed and collapsed dramatically face down onto the duvet. You giggled at him, running a soft hand though his midnight hair and pulling it out of it’s hair tie.

If he was a cat, he swore he could’ve purred at your touch. It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. Not having physical affection for years on end does that to a person.

He sat up and crawled over to you. He grabbed your chin and pressed your lips together roughly, running his tongue across your mouth as he did so. You groaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, making him smirk against your lips.

After a few minutes, he detached his lips from yours and started licking and sucking your sensitive skin on your jaw, slowly making his way down your neck. He felt shivers run down his spine as you gripped his shirt in your fist on his back. He loved having this power over you, and having you accept him and love him enough to not fight back.

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, giving him more access to your neck. As you did so, he placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him, forcing you to lie down on the bed with him hovering over you.

He pulled away from your neck and looked down at you, admiring your anxious expression painted across your face. He chucked. “What’s wrong baby,” he cooed, leaning down and continuing kissing your collarbones.

His voice was dripping in sweetness, so sweet it could’ve made you feel sick. It sounded fake, but you didn’t pick up on it. It was a shame. You saw Niragi as nothing but a victim of his own mind, but you weren’t able to see yourself becoming a victim of it.

“I’m just...” you mumbled out, feeling weak and vulnerable under his touch. “I’m scared Niragi.”

He pulled back again and looked into your eyes with a worried expression. “Why are you scared? It’s just me and you here angel. You’re perfectly safe,” he whispered out, stroking his knuckles down your cheek lovingly.

You knew you loved Niragi, but knowing he can change his personality in a blink of an eye unsettled you. Who knew when he would do that to you? You heard him speak up again.

“We’ve slept together many times before, why are you becoming shy just now?” he teased, lifting a hand and slowly running it up along your tummy underneath your shirt. Your breath hitched as his cold hands made contact, making your stomach muscles tense.

“So sensitive,” he cooed again, snuggling his head into your chest, just above your breasts. “I love you.”

The confession made your heart skip a beat and you tensed. Niragi noticed this, making his body fill with anxiety. Did he say it too soon?

“Sorry,” he mumbled against your shirt. “That was a bit much, you don’t have to say it back,” he gaslighted.

“No,” you cut him off. “I love you too.”

Niragi’s heart filled with warmth and he felt all his nerves tingle around his body. He hadn’t heard that since he was a kid, and hearing you say it did nothing but make him more fall in love.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he sniffed out. You looked down to see him staring at you, tears filling his eyes. It made your heart ache.

He took his body weight off you and hovered himself above you again. “I promise, I won’t let anyone ever hurt you,” he mumbled, voice cracking slightly. His arms that laid on either side of your head acted like a cage. Whether you were trapped willingly or forcefully was beyond your guess.

As he leaned his head down again and pressed his still wet lips against yours, you felt his lanky arms snake around your torso underneath you, keeping you in place.

You laid there, moving your mouths together and holding each other as close as possible. It would’ve almost been romantic and loving if it wasn’t for the context. While one was preying on their victim to achieve what they’ve so desperately wanted their whole life, the other believed that that person was the victim themselves.

Such irony, to love someone who has a ‘unlovable’ personality, when it’s not even the one that you fell in love with.

The one you fell in love with was nothing but one of his many masks. And no one could determine whether he would ever take it off in front of you.

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry this one was actually hard to write. It’s a bit all over the place but I hope it was still enjoyable to read! Also I’m not going to do a Part 2 to this fic, but if you want to read something similar to this kind of yandere theme with Niragi, read my other fic called You’re Everything You Once Hated. I’m going to be posting a Part 2 of that one soon.

[steter-bang]

Steter Mini Bang 2022 Prompts

These are all 100% optional!  If you like parts of one but not the whole thing, take what you like and discard the rest.  Want to combine multiple prompts?  Go for it!  If one of these inspires or sparks something else for you, even better! ☺️

Dialogue Prompt Ideas

"Look, dude, you lost the bet, I don't know what to tell you."

A: "Hey, check it out!"  B: "What the fuck."  A: "Yeah, turns out I'm a shapeshifter!" (via @prompts-in-a-barrel)

A: "Just leave me here to die."  B: "Quit being dramatic." (via @prompts-in-a-barrel)

A: "I don't want to die!"  B: "Then don't?"  A: "I... That's an option?" (via @givethispromptatry)

A: "Did you block my number again?"  B: "I wouldn't have to if you didn't keep sending me random emojis every few minutes, while I was trying to fucking sleep." (via @write-it-motherfuckers)

"...You're an apex predator, this is just sad."

Song Lyric Prompt Ideas

"I do this every night cause I can hardly sleep I drive alone to nowhere, slow I'm searching for the parts of me I know you stole" Back to You by Timecop1983

"I've blown apart my life for you And bodies hit the floor for you And break me, shake me, devastatе me Come herе, baby, tell me that I'm wrong" The Bomb by Florence + the Machine

"And I can feel the static rising up and out your mouth We're making waves of conversation Got a rush of energy" High On Humans by Oh Wonder

"We're all on the ride Sometimes it goes too fast Let's slow it down tonight I'm just here to connect with you" Connect by Elohim

"Lay down your head And show me if you like it Lend me your ears And read me like a book" Why Did We Fire The Gun by Waldeck

"I'll take you out tonight Throw away your phone Don't care about your boyfriend waking up alone" Nights With You by MØ

"You knew it still hurts underneath my scars From when they pulled me apart" hoax by Taylor Swift

Summer Prompt Ideas

Trip to the ice cream parlor

Heatwave strip tease (inadvertent or intentional)

Skinny dipping out in the preserve to beat the heat

The a/c broke and we're both hot and utterly shameless

Summertime after the apocalypse

One Word Prompt Ideas

Dragon

Puppy

Flower

Super Specific Mod Prompt Ideas

Summer road trip up the coast, taking their time, staying at little places with ocean views.  Peter drives and Stiles forces him to answer questions from the Gottman Card Decks to deepen their relationship.  Their friends and family don't really know how much work Stiles and Peter have put into making sure their relationship is healthy and stable, but they regularly see a therapist together, even when there's nothing majorly wrong.  They were even able to find a Gottman Institute trained therapist who is in the know about the supernatural to do pre-marriage counseling with and they keep visiting this therapist periodically.  Any time there's a big life change, they visit a therapist just to be able to work through their thoughts and feelings with a neutral third party.  They're both committed to doing everything they can to make their relationship work and they're more in love than ever.

Peter is running from his high-stress city life; he’s cut ties with everyone and is road tripping across the country, trying to find meaning in his life again.  In a small rural town, he stumbles across a ranch run by Stiles and his dad.  Stiles intrigues him enough to want to stop and stay for a while.  As he helps and begins to learn how to run a ranch, and actually do some physical work instead of being stuck behind a desk for 12 hours a day, he starts relaxing, letting his hair grow out, and starts falling in love with Stiles.  Stiles was wary of this city-slicker at first but Peter slowly wins him over and they take over the ranch together so Stiles’s dad can retire.

Everyone has a daemon (your soul outside of your body in animal form - read a primer on His Dark Materials’ daemons here) and Stiles’s daemon is obsessed with Peter’s.  Stiles isn’t really sure that he likes what this says about him but slowly gets to know Peter better due to always trying to pry his daemon away from Peter’s daemon.  Stiles’s daemon is smug as hell when Stiles finally realizes that he and Peter would be a great match and is entirely unhelpful when Stiles is trying to work up the courage to ask Peter on a date.

Full shift werewolves AU - Stiles is magical and can communicate telepathically with Peter when he is in his full shift wolf form.  Cue Stiles slightly freaking out because what does this mean?  Are they bonded somehow?  Is this some weird Twilight bullshit?  BUT also thinking it’s so cool because magic! Wolves! Talking to a wolf!!!  He read all of Tamora Pierce’s books growing up - who didn’t want to be Daine at some point in their lives, alright!?

[someowlhouseaccount]

OKAY, SO. I had made a thing to 99% completion in my winter holidays, but then I had to go back to uni for 8 weeks while this thing was waiting to get finished the whole time. Since yesterday though, it is now DONE. So, this is what it is: A model of Luz & King's room in the Owl House, built from Lego!!!

As you can see, it's a very boxy shape, and includes the door, and even a lid to stop the inside getting dusty. Take off the lid, and wow! There's a room inside!!

It's a bit awkward looking inside with all the walls there though. So we can take some of them off, and easily too, because a lot of the studs that these walls sit on have been replaced with tiles. You have to remove two long bits from the front, two large wall chunks and one tile before you can see into the room like so:

And there we have it: the mouse tank, the beds, the old chests and paintings that are present in every room of the house, Jean-Luc in the corner, Luz's Azura poster, even the little doormat :D

I tried very hard to get the room looking as accurate as possible, but it was difficult at times to 1) get pictures of certain areas, and 2) build things to a scale that looked both accurate and nice.

Firstly, there are areas of the room we barely see in the show, like the righthand side and the corner at the front right, and while I was looking through my dozens of reference pictures, I also found that the positions of objects - and even the objects themselves sometimes - change slightly, so I either used combinations of multiple screenshots, or screenshots from the latest episodes (KKKOHD, Eclipse Lake) to help me decide some things.

Secondly, because of how things change slightly across different perspectives of the room in the show, and just the fact that I was constrained to the dimensions of Lego bricks, some things are a bit odd if you look closely. For example, the mouse cage is an entire 3 by 5 studs because it has to be large enough to contain the mouse piece I have.

Overall though, this thing looks awesome, and I'm sure 99% of people seeing it won't actually notice the odd parts, because not all of us spent a few weeks looking through 30 different screenshots of the place \o/

These next four pictures show some of the walls in more detail:

The top two photos are typical angles of the room, while the bottom two show areas we don't see much - the chest + barrel pile, checkered banner, and the door plus the doormat.

Things I loved building the most include:

- the chest near the window

- the Azura poster

- the mouse cage and the chest it sits on

- the red & black banner

- the bell on a string that hangs near the door

- the little Jean-Luc. Fun fact about him: I actually made a larger and more detailed one beforehand, realised it was far too big, then cobbled together this tiny one in a few minutes c: (the bigger one is gonna have to get its own post eventually)

(btw I forgot to put the hat on Jean-Luc at first, so it's only in this one photo, oops)

Now, something I think is really awesome about this room: Almost everything is completly stuck in place. This means you can lift up the whole thing, flip it upside-down, and nothing falls out! Not the broom, not the pillows, not the paintings leaning against the walls, not even the books sitting on the floor! Jean-Luc is the only exception to this - they sit very snugly in the corner, but aren't actually connected to anything.

If you do want to play with the room though, you can >:) Things are stuck down, but only on a few studs, with tiles underneath. This means you can easily take off anything you want - the chests, bed, mouse cage, etc! You can take the broom from the wall and sweep the floor, you can move the pillows, do what you want (: Finally, because there's so many pictures involved with this thing, I filtered some of the extra pictures and put them in some Imgur galleries because none of them fit in the post: Reference pictures (the main ones I used) Photos of building process

I don't know how to end this post, so I'll just bring up the only other Lego Owl House I've seen and tell you to support it if you haven't already: this one's on a smaller scale (minifig-scale) but is the entire house, and is on Lego Ideas trying to become an official set. It's almost halfway to the 10,000 supporters it needs before The Lego Group will consider accepting it, which is... cool :) https://ideas.lego.com/s/p:32fee4c55de840708cf62fd6eacddcf2

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 2

Pairing - Right now the pairing is General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner, but that will eventually change to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner

Summary - Ketterdam is a city of thieves and these three are no strangers as they find themselves the first to a huge money job. Past are uncovered and people who where thought to be gone to the other might yet still be alive.

Word Count - 1574

-

Ketterdam

Kaz Brekker had changed, he wasn’t the same as he was before Jordies death, when he got back from the sea of death everything was different. He learned very quickly that being alone was not how someone thrived in Ketterdam, so he joined the Dregs. His past was something that Kaz kept close to his chest, no one knew that there was one person he thought of but always tried not to, a girl with white hair. However, sometimes that one person was overshadowed by his greed to one up Pekka Rollins, the man that had ruined his life. Which made stealing the Heartrender from underneath Pekkas grasp very satisfying. With Inej and Jesper they walked up to the gates that belonged to Dressen, the man who was offering the shining million kruge job.

A man approached the gate to see who the visitors were “Who are you?” he asked

“We’re here to see Dreesen” Kaz answered

He looked at the group confused “you’re not with Pekka’s crew”

“And you’re no longer in Pekka’s pocket if you don’t owe him” Kaz threw a bag of coins in between the bars of the gate, the man caught the bag and looked at it.

The gates then opened and they were allowed in “Hey! One of these has a hole in it!”

“Inside, now” Kaz said ushering the group into the building

They were brought into an office where Dressen was sitting. Kaz knew that they would have the upper hand, being first to have what Dressen wanted was key to securing the job. They needed this, it would be a big deal for the Crows to be able to get this kind of money. Dreesen looked them all over and already had an idea about the people who were standing in front of him.

“Criminals, it only takes one look” he eyes them a bit more before returning to the papers on his desk “I am not meeting with anyone until midnight so you are just wasting your time”

“We have the Heartrender that you requested” Kaz said

Dressen sighed and took a moment to think “Well.. alright, she stays and the rest of you can wait here” he said getting up from his chair and walking around his desk

The heartrender went to walk forward but Kaz stopped her with his cane “No, she stays and we have an exclusive on the job”

“Now Mr. Brekker. No businessman worth his salt hires his first applicants”

Kaz shrugged his shoulders “of course, I understand. It’s a big decision to make, just like the decision to report you to the guild for kidnapping and harboring a prisoner chain of title” he smirked a little, showing off his confidence, Kaz was the one with the upper hand in their little exchange

Dreesen glared at Kaz “you wouldn’t dare”

“No businessman worth his salt bargains for what he can take” Kaz answered

The Heartrender raised her hand “I have to be back in an hour”

“Alright, come on”

Dressen brought them down to where he was keeping the hostage, he walked up to him and turned to face the crew. Kaz went from looking around the room then back to where Dressen was standing.

“This is Alexi Stepanov” he pulled the bag off of his head to reveal his face “two weeks ago Alexei here crossed the Fold on foot, he was alone”

Inej was shocked “how?” she saw that the man was mouthing the word ‘water’ and she got him a glass for him to drink

“They’re keeping it quiet, but allegedly he was one of a few witnesses to an event..”

“What kind of event?” Kaz asked

“I know an expedition was swarmed by Volcra, it should have been a total loss, but something happened.. Right now the running theory over here is that it was a new device, one only for the worst case scenarios, but something is different about what was seen. It lit up the Fold like a forest fire. However, whatever destroyed the swarming Volcra was not a device with fire, because it would have killed everyone on that skiff. It had to have been some sort of new invention no one has seen before. This man is the answer, he hasn’t been able to speak, some sort of trauma lapse” Dreesen explained

The Heartrender approached Alexei and knelt down then started to slow down his heart beat to calm him down “you are safe now, speak and I will just listen” she smiled gently at him “tell me what happened in the Fold, what saved you?”

Alexei took in a deep breath, feeling his heart coming down to a steady pace “If I tell you, will you set me free?”

Dreesen nodded “you are in Ketterdam now, you can go anywhere in the world from here, just imagine”

“Her name is.. Anna Mizeloph, she is the Sun Summoner” Alexei said, not realizing the gates he had just opened

Kaz’s world froze, the same name of the girl with white hair he thought of every day was at the center of a myth, the Sun Summoner. So many questions were running through his mind about her and what had led her to that skiff where she had somehow demonstrated that she was the mythical Sun Summoner. He couldn’t piece together what could have happened to get her away from Ketterdam to the other side of the Fold. Kaz did understand that they had been separated as children and hoped that one day they would find each other. After he had fought tooth and nail to survive from the killer ocean in order to get back to her, she had just up and disappeared. He was always confused about how a girl with white hair would be difficult to find, but it was like she had never existed. As he was dealing with his trauma Kaz was working day and night to find Anna, but he could never find a lead that could get him something. For a while Kaz held onto those memories with Anna, they were the only way he could get through his trauma. However, those memories could not always protect Kaz forever, he had to eventually become a new person, someone who could thrive in Ketterdam, not just survive. Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel had been shaped by his hardships in Ketterdam and he clawed his way to where he was now. Today, one thing that had always held him back was Anna Mizeloph even if he didn’t know it, if they ever found each other he questioned what she would think of him and how he had changed. In the end Anna Mizeloph was the last piece of Kaz Rietveld and he tried to let go, but Kaz never could.

Jesper and Inej knew they would want to talk with Kaz later about how he had reacted to Anna Mizelophs name. They had never seen him react so quickly just to hide it, there was something more to this and they were going to find out.

Dreesen smiled and checked the manifest “perfect” Alexei smiled “you will set me free now?” he was ready to see the world and erase the horrors of the Fold from his mind

“Thank you, of course” Dreesen then pulled out a gun and shot Alexei in the head, his body dropping to the floor, the heartrender screamed, shocked by what had just happened.

“We are now the only people west of the Fold who know this information, my ship sails for West Ravka at dawn. If you can prove that you have a way through the Fold and back, I will put you on that ship with an advance. If you don’t, I might consider giving the job to Pekaa Rollins”

“Give me a day” Kaz bargained

“You have until sunrise, then your ship will have sailed, Mr Brekker. The prize is one million kruge. Now, bring me Anna Mizeloph” Dreesens men showed them out

When they were finally back to the three of them Inej decided she would step up and ask first about Kaz's reaction “when that man said Anna Mizeloph, the look on your face.. I have never seen you react like that, you knew her didn’t you?”

Kaz looked at Inej wondering if he should indulge her question “I knew one girl named Anna Mizeloph, but she has been gone for a very long time...”

Jesper gave Kaz a look “I mean, how rare is the last name Mizeloph?”

“She is the only one I have ever known to have that last name, so it might be her.. If it is, then we have an advantage over the competition, especially if we are going to be competing with Pekka Rollins” Kaz knew that this would be the chance for his past to finally be useful

“You would really use your past with Anna Mizeloph to put her into a false sense of security?” Inej asked slightly shocked, she knew that Kaz could be a bit harsh especially when it came to the possibility of a lot of money and beating Pekka Rollins, but she did not think he would go this far to emotionally manipulate Anna if he needed to

“For a million kruge, yes” Kaz said and walked off thinking about how we would find them a way through the Fold, there and back.

-

Author Note - I am extremely happy that others are enjoying this story and the comments left on chapter 1 warmed my heart! Thank you so much for everyone who left a comment, I had no idea that would happen even when I asked. Again, it is completely up to you if you would like to leave a comment, but know that I enjoy reading them. Also I really hope that this is a decent introduction to Kazans Brekker and him finding out. Also! If you would like to be added to the tag list please comment and let me know so I can add you, I will try my best to remember everyone!

Thank you so much for all of your guys support!

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders

[angelisverba]

ambrosia

in which y/n hopes to find a loving new home, and faeking!h has a lot of love to give. 

word count: 12k-

pairing: y/n and the Fae King, Harry

warnings: descriptions of a sheep birth (for all the queasy readers, it’s brief)

author’s notes: this was made possible by @moonchildstyles wonder work “athens” (had it not been for that and her I would not have been inspired to write this, and it wouldn’t have come until months from now). i love u linds <333

Y/n woke to the sound of cooing doves startling near her ears,  and the warm feel of sunlight on her bare skin accompanied with a wet snout prodding at her elbow. 

Eyelashes fluttering open, the girl could see beams of sun streaming in through the arching window, motes littering the light that splayed over the stone floors and on the bed where she lay. The branches extending from the tree in the corner of the room had blossomed into a dainty pink flower that oozed a calming scent throughout, and the calming trickle of the stream surrounding the castle soothed her greatly, stroking her eardrums in a therapeutic caressed that stretched all the way down to her thighs, dissolving the sore knots that had formed there from her long walks in the forest. 

She could work with three days, especially if they all started this way. In a dreamy, etheral morning daze that was sure to carry on through the rest of the day.

Beside her was Angus, squealing excitedly now that she rose up from her position, stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied groan. 

“Good morning, Angus,” she cooed at the animal, giggling when he sniffed playfully at her chin. He plopped himself on his hind legs, and lifted his chin up to the sky so y/n could see the rolled up parchment that had been strapped on his neck with a thin, flowery vine. “What’s this?” She asked him, and he only tapped her with his hoof. “This is for me?”

The pig only squealed in response and, y/n gently stroked his warm back before untucking the paper from its place, and breaking the vine with her finger-nail so it wasn’t wrapped uncomfortably around his neck. It fell on the bed, and Angus happily bent to eat it. 

She unrolled the paper, and was stunned by the intricate cursive that was embedded into the rich material. Swooping lines of dark ink taking the shape of old-fashioned script. Y/n could imagine that whoever had written it had sat with a cork-topped pot of ink, and a long, sharp quill. 

It read, 

My lady, I’ll be awaiting your presence in the Courts. Agnus will lead the way.

A small giggle bubbled on her tongue and the king’s formal language. She hadn’t quite realized the different timelines their universes’ lived on. Not to mention, it was also a reminder of the ruling government. Harry was a king, and to have him waiting on her was a… very pleasurable feeling. 

Angus nibbled on her thigh again, impatiently urging her as they had somewhere to be. 

“Alright, I’m going! You don’t have to bite me.” Y/n patted the pig’s head once more, and hopped out of the bed, the soft material of her dress feeling like cool water against her skin. Now standing in the morning light, the shape of her calves could be seen through the material, the soft curves of her hips and swell of her breasts a hidden image; teasing in the most innocent way possible.

Agnus leads her out, his head turning to make sure that she was still following him. He led her down the same path the king took her when he showed her to her room, and even though she had seen it all already, the novelty of such a grand castle still hadn’t worn off. The brightness of the new day showered the stone walls with an enchanting gleam. Flowers had blossomed in the cracks, and tendrils of swirling leaves twisted through the arched windows. 

Harry hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night. 

He was overcome with a strange feeling of… deja vu. Even that didn’t begin to cover what he was experiencing. The moment that his eyes had landed on the female mortal that had so foolishly begged for entrance into the Faerie realm, the intense torment of loneliness he had endured for eons had just...sated, almost... relaxing with a sigh of relief. Something inside of him had… shifted. It was something that could only be compared to the righteousness that came with the correct alignment of stars; the balance of nature restored. 

One would think that he’d sleep like a baby because everything that had once felt so wrong was now feeling so right, but no. Not Harry. Harry was amazed and confused and… tentative. All of the many overwhelming emotions barreling in on his immortal body made it impossible to sleep. Instead, he did what he always did when he could not sleep.

He went to the library. 

From dusk till dawn Harry worked himself in the library, sifting through the eons of information that had accumulated to see if he could find anything that explained what in the worlds he was feeling. What had happened. Why a mortal girl had so easily, so pleasantly, been granted access to the fae realm. Why the wings of the newly hatched butterflies had fluttered and gained flight solely for the reason of covering her modesty. Why there was a sudden drop of… warmth* in the people that were known to be so cold. 

Alas, the king found nothing in the volumes he searched through that night. If* there was an answer, he wouldn’t find it that night. Not with the amount there was to search through. His search would simply have to continue after-

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” said y/n. 

His back was turned to her, as he was knelt over a bush of forget-me-nots. “Ah, didn’t I say you were to call me something else?” 

He was dressed in similar robes as the ones from yesterday, except that they were in a lilac shade, and the sleeves cascaded all the way down to his wrists, ending with a white trim. Although his look was more roman god-esque, y/n felt a very 70’s roller rink chic-ness to it. 

“Oh!” Her lips formed a surprised ‘o’, “right. Sorry, Harry.” He then stood up and turned to face her, a soft smile playing on his lips. A cinnamon curl swirled between his eyebrows. 

“That’s right. Good morning to you as well, my lady.” He folded a hand over his abdomen, and bent over in a bow. A king, bowing to her. 

Before she even had time to fluster over his unnecessary actions, he was barreled into by Angus, who had trotted off somewhere to eat his breakfast after leaving her in the tall arch that led to the gardens. 

“And hello to you as well, old friend,” Harry chuckled, and happily scratched behind the pig’s ears, crinkled forming at the corners of his eyes from all the smiling. Y/n noticed that he has a very, very* nice smile and his eyes looked a little less lonely when he allowed himself to grin. Angus snorted happily in his arms, nipping underneath his chin with the same tenderness that he’d used to wake y/n that morning. “Thank you so much for getting our guest to me this morning, I hope you enjoyed your breakfast?” Angus seemed through reply with excessive squirming and licks to his friend’s face. 

Y/n giggled at the interaction. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” She asked him, smiling warmly. 

“I would surely hope so. Raised him since he was a little piglet, and he’s been my loyal companion since.” He placed a tender kiss on the furry animal’s head. “Angus, my friend, I do believe that is enough love for this morning, do you agree? I have to show our guest around.” With a final scratch, Harry placed Angus on the floor, and clapped his hands together. “Shall we?”

“I would love to.”

    *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

They walked away from the castle and deeper into the gardens. Rows of thornless flowers on an endless field of soft grass that was a similar shade of the king’s irises. In the near distance, a river flowed and curved in a circle around the castle, separating the grounds where the people dwelled from Harry’s residence. Y/n found it odd for the king to live in isolation from his people, and she wondered if perhaps there might be conflict in the seemingly peaceful community. 

Side by side, they strolled in silence, Harry stopping every once in a while when his guest became intrigued by the constantly blooming flowers. He wanted her to take everything in at her own pace, and in that moment, silence seemed appropriate. Between the two of them, no interaction, no conversation, was present- because it was not needed. A comfortable, warm quiet atmosphere disrupted only by the soft swish of her dress and his robes against the blades of grass, the distant trickle of water, and the leisurely chirp of birds in the trees that littered the grounds. 

Eventually, they reached the halfway distance from the river and the castle grounds, where a single stone bench resided amongst a circle of sunflowers that were taller than Harry.  

Y/n gasped, “Those sunflowers are so tall!” She ran to the bench and climbed it so both her feet were planted on the smooth surface instead of her bum. 

Harry was still standing just a few steps behind the circle, hands behind his back as he watched her gawk with an amused smile on his taffy lips. He didn’t tell her that he grew those sunflowers, and tended them without the use of his fae powers, to create a private circle where he came to talk to the moon on the nights where he was most lonely. Sometimes, he would close off the open ends- then using his powers- like curtains, so none of the animals or fae people could watch him as silent tears of anguish slipped from his eyes like liquid silver. 

It was indeed, amusing, that she found joy in something that was used in acts of sadness. 

“I’ve never seen such tall sunflowers before,” she whispered, an awestruck look on her face. “They’re amazing.”

The sunflowers grew an inch at her praise, their heads tilting in her direction, like she was the sun. Their leaves stretched out to tickle her cheeks, and she giggled and squirmed at their actions. She didn’t question that it went against all laws of nature, how everything now had a touch of magic. She didn’t know that the flowers had a special connection with their birthgiver, their planter, and shared the same feelings he did. She didn’t know that they reacted because Harry saw her as his own personal source of light, as his happiness. 

Hells, the king himself didn’t know. But, the bond between the planter and his plants ran deep, and they knew the secrets that ran deep in his heart for they were nature, and Harry and y/n were natural.

“Thank you,” He mused, “I planted them myself. Though, they will grow a mighty ego at your praise.” 

Y/n giggled once more, and the leaves retreated back into the circle, and the sunflowers resumed their previous position. “I love it here,” she said to him. She was careful with her words, and her tone remained soft, dreamy. She didn’t know the king that well yet, and although he looked like the absolute gentleman, she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and test him. 

Harry sensed this, sensed her slight fear, and walked into the circle of sunflowers. He took a seat next to where she stood, and patted the place besides the hem of her robes, signaling for her to sit with him. “Take a seat besides me, m’lady,” he murmured.

Y/n pouted like a child at his formal words, and placed a hand on his shoulder as she sat herself down. She didn’t notice the way he straightened. “If I can’t say Your Majesty, then you can’t call me that, either.” 

No one beyond his mother and the water wraiths he sometimes took to bed had taken the liberty to touch him the way she did. A casual gesture, very nonchalant, and it held no underlying motive to it. She didn’t want to get into bed with him with provoking touches, and she didn’t want to get into a king’s good graces with friendly gestures either. She simply wanted to get down and not topple over. 

“Do you not like the term?” He wants to caress the side of her face, brush that single strand of hair off of her shoulder so it lays on her back. Everything and anything tender, and it is strange. Instead, he settled for placing his hands in his lap. Awkwardly. He was all around rigid and tense. 

Y/n, however, does not see to notice this, and she bumps her shoulder against his playfully. “Do you not like when I call you Your Majesty?”

All too quickly, he said, “No, I do not.”

The light air around her goes stale, and she goes stiff like him, too. A crimson shade blooms on her neck. “Oh… well… I just… didn’t want you to call me something formal if I couldn’t call you something formal.” That’s what she gets for trying to play with a king. 

“Very well. Then I shall not repeat it.” He cleared his throat. “I digress. Love, the fae realm is not what it seems.”

She tilted her head, confused. Harry continued, “Every living being residing in these lands will attempt to trick you into turning your life over to them, and my-”

“Harry, are you trying to change my mind?”

“No. I am simply trying to warn you of the dangers you will have to face every day if you decide to live here.” He was scared for her, and anxious over… something that he couldn’t put a finger on yet. The thought of her in danger roused an emotion in him that he could not name. 

“I know the dangers. Frankly, I would rather face them than going back…” There is a moment of hesitation. She is unsure what to name where she came from. It certainly was not home. 

“Was the human realm really so terrible to you?” Harry asked. He himself had only been there once, during a time when a woman by the name of Stevie Nicks had accidentally summoned him during a wiccan ritual. Had it been any other creature, Harry imagined it might have been much worse. But the woman was young, beautiful and kind. She offered Harry hospitality and apologized profusely for her mistake. She had a lovely voice, too. 

“Yes. And I really do not want to go back. When I said that by going back I would die, I meant it. Whether it’s the world that gets to me or…”

“Or what?” The king swallowed. He had a feeling that he knew what she was getting at, and the thought of her doing such a thing...

“Or my own hand.” She stared down at the dewy blades of grass, kicking up her feet so her toes slid from underneath the draping white fabric of her dress. 

Silence and nature yelled. Harry was at a loss for words at her admission. Could she possibly be in so much pain? Would she bring that fate onto herself? He was heartbroken that y/n- who had been nothing but smiles and admiration- could do something so dark and evil to an energy he saw as bright and innocent. He couldn’t- wouldn’t let her do that, whether she went back to the human realm or not. 

“I promise you, you will not meet such an end, dearest y/n.” And if there was one thing the Fae honoured, it was a promise; a bargain. 

Y/n only smiled at him sadly, as if she was merely humoring his attempts at keeping her from herself. Though, she admired the way he was so sure of himself, how he was so quickly willing to help her. It was remarkable how she had found friends in such little time; Angus and Harry. 

“Now,” he clapped his hands together rather abruptly, startling her and causing her to jolt upright from her sad slump. “Let’s bring an end to this somber talk, yes? How about I start showing you around, rather than just sit here?” 

“I’d like that.” She said. “Where will you take me?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stood up and extended his hand to her; an open palm, an invitation. The sunflowers around them shivered and grew another inch when she finally took his hand, and new stems shrouded from the dirt when the two shared a look. It was almost like… like an entire universe bloomed when their irises locked together, a supernova exploding in their chests in unity.

Neither of them reacted with more than a happy exhale. 

Harry led them out the other end of the sunflower ring, directly towards the river and all the while they still held hands. For Harry, it was the most intimate kind of touch he has ever experienced in the centuries that he’s been alive. He’s never had a serious platonic or non-platonic relationship with anyone other than… well, no one. The male and female beings he often took to bed to experience warmth never gave back the pleasure he offered; never stayed the night, and never caressed him back; never reciprocated the… love. It was highly embarrassing that no one respected him enough to even pretend to care or reflect his emotions in the most intimate setting, but that’s just the way it was (not to mention the fact that Harry started bedding others at the ripe age of one hundred because he wanted to learn how to be an adept lover, and the creatures that would be closely titles 'prostitutes’ in the human realm taught him well. For their own pleasure.)

For y/n, it was the most intimate kind of touch she had ever received from anyone of the opposite since ever. She’d been a neglected child, and the boys at school never felt she was adequate enough for their standards. Sure, there had been catcalls in the streets or in the bars she frequented, but those weren’t the kind of affections she wanted to give back. 

It was safe to say that the experience was electrifying for the both of them. Y/n couldn’t help but feel like a giddy school girl that had just received her first love note in her locker, and Harry wondered what kind of magic this human girl could possibly have that made tingles spread from where their palms connected all the way to his shoulder blade. Maybe, she was throwing a glamour over herself so that she appeared more beautiful than she looked, and was practicing wiccan love spells like that Nicks girl a few decades back… no. Who was he kidding. She was an innocent human girl. A beautiful human girl who had no idea of the effect she had on his ethereal existence. 

The closer they got to the river the taller the grass became and the easier it was to see the creatures that lived within it. A swan and her ducklings meandered down the stream, tadpoles and sparkling fish swam in the crystalline water. On the other side of the moving water, deer, rabbits, and squirrels scurried amongst the various shrubs and trees. It was like something out of a fairy tale book, but even then that comparison was weak. 

She slowed her steps as they reached the edge of the bank, just before her toes dipped into the water because… well, they weren’t prepared to go into the water. Harry seemed to have other plans; he only tugged her further, and did not pause like she did. 

His feet, however, did not dip into the water because the grass and dirt extended beneath their feet, lurching forward in an arch over the water to create a bridge for them to walk across. 

Astonished, she gasped, “Did you do that?” She held onto the large hand that was warm against hers and relied on it to guide her because she was too busy looking down at the bridge. 

“No, I didn’t. The ground did that itself,” he said. And it was true. The ground and nature loved him, and the amount of his magic he spent on it was minimal. 

Y/n was too surprised to say anything else. The bridge dispersed once they stepped back onto firm ground, and y/n let Harry lead their stroll on the other side. She realized that they were now in the non-isolated part of the Fae realm, which meant that any creature could pounce at them like how she experienced when she first arrived. That made her nervous. 

“The ground is- oh, hello!” 

She was about to make a comment regarding the earth’s self awareness, but something nipped at the hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s. Looking down, she sees a lamb licking and sniffing at the tips of her fingers. It was shaky on its legs, and it’s nose was a tiny pink triangle on the snow white wool of its face. The lamb jumped back when she opened her palm towards the sky so it could continue smelling. 

“It is not very nice to bite our guests, lovie.” Still holding onto her hand, he crouched down to meet the lamb and reached out to caress it’s back. “Where is your mother, little one?” 

“It’s not scared of you,” y/n noted. In fact, the lamb leaned into his touch, and similar to the upturning of Angus’ mouth, this lamb’s own lips seemed to smile. 

He shaked his head, “no, I would think not since I aided her mother during her delivery,” he gently squeezed her hand in reassurance that her actions weren’t harmful. “However, they are naturally skittish creatures.” 

The lamb’s mother skips out from behind a brush, preening for her kid to come back from any danger she might be in, until she notices that the only danger is Harry, and really he isn’t any danger. So, she quiets and scurries to his side to receive tender caresses. 

“Well, hello,” he said to her. “It’s been a long time since I have last come to see you, isn’t it? I have brought someone to meet the rest of you today,” the sheep bleated, “Oh she is no harm, I assure you.”

They seemed to understand each other, almost like they were having a conversation. It was intriguing, “You understand her?”

“Yes. As Fae King I am given certain abilities upon crowning day. One of those being the understating of all languages, and this includes all living creatures.” 

“I see.” A shiver runs through her when his thumb strokes the back of her hand. Her toes curl in the glass. It was an intimate touch.

Harry licks his bottom lick. “Would you like to meet the rest of them?”

She’s assuming that he meant the rest of the lambs and sheeps, but the sun-lit glitter of green in his eyes hypnotized her. He was a drink of spring on the last winter night. “I’d love to.” 

The mother then licked at the ear of her kid, and they trotted off into the same bush. Y/n could see that there was an archway in the brush, and through this they disappeared, even though there was no tunnel following beyond the opening. Like a portal. 

“You’ll have to crawl through m’l- love,” his eyes bounce from hers to their hands, and almost as if it saddens him to do so, he lets go of her hand. “After you.” 

She bends down and follows after the creatures through the tunneled arch. It’s a tight fit, but her size made it manageable. Harry had it worse.

His height and broad shoulders made it uncomfortable for him to get through; he nearly had to get on his forearms so his forehead didn’t smear all over the greenery. The lilac of his robes made it hard for him to move, but if he dragged them- and that meant grass stains on his knees- he could get by just as fast. Y/n, too, was experiencing the same issue but she had paused momentarily to tie to fabric in a knot above her thighs, and Harry… well, Harry was trying really hard not to look because he knew it’d be disrespectful. 

The passage twisted and turned, and it was unclear where they were going because the turns were sharp. The only thing visible ahead was the curved wall of greenery beyond the quaint trotting of the sheep and her child. Eventually, they turned one last time and a series of ‘baa’s greeted them behind a circle of opening light. 

Behind her, Harry chuckled. The heat of his breath spanned across her ankles and the soles of her feet like a blanket. She had not realized he was that close to her. 

Y/n and Harry hadn’t been in the tunnel for more than two minutes, but it was amusing to see him arch his back in a stretch and pointless try and wipe away at the dirt and grass stain on the lilac fabric covering his knees. 

Instantly he was surrounded by a flurry of white clouds that bleated and licked at him. 

“Oh my. Hello- Ladies, please! Ow, Ruby we talked about tha- okay okay,” He was protesting, sure, but he was also laughing. It was the widest Y/n had seen him smile. He was… happy.

There was an sense of home and right to the picture he presented. A gleeful king surrounded by creatures that adored him (there was no doubt why the way they licked at him, and the Angus-like smiles on their faces as they looked up at him). Harry was not isolated here. 

Here. Wherever this here was. 

It was different from the Fae realm. The ground was softer than the dirt that occupied the space between her toes before, and it was a lighter shade of green. The color of Harry’s eyes when the sunlight cut through the iris from the side. It sloped up and down like the valleys of the Fae village, but there were no homes, and it centered around a heart shaped pool of crystalline water. The sky was the closest thing to strange- out all things, this is what y/n found strange- about it all. It was a cotton candy pink color; a solid shade that didn’t suggest a fading of the sun even though there was a white spherical object in the 5’oclock position. 

They- Harry, y/n, and the few lambs that had come to greet him- stood atop one of the crests around the heart-shaped pool. 

“Welcome to the Land of Nurture.” He said, breaking her out of her dream. He held the tiniest- tinier than the one that had nipped at her palm- of the lambs she had seen yet in his arms, and it was asleep. “This is where the woodland creatures come to birth and nurture their young. I spend quite a lot of time here, helping with the births.” 

At the sound of Harry’s voice and it not being directed towards them in praise, the lambs turn to see what- or who is the object of his attention. Many of them are curious to greet the human woman, but a few stick to his side, rubbing back into his loving hands. 

Through that magical bond, Harry caught onto an unusual request. The sheep, they wanted… they wanted y/n to oversee a birth. The ‘midwife’ of the lands spoke to him,

Harry, we’ve never had a woman here before. Let her femininity bless a birth? One will birth tonight, and her hands as much as yours are needed. 

“H-harry?” Harry looks up from the wise sheep at his feet to the anxious voice that calls him name. 

The lambs at y/n’s feet had gotten a hold of the cotton at the hem of her dress with their mouths, and were tugging her, leading her to a place that she didn’t know. The fact that they were leading her away to some unknown destination wasn’t what made her nervous, no. What made her nervous was the fact that they were leading her away and Harry wasn’t with her. She was unprotected. 

She had taken a few steps with the pull of animals. “Harry?”

He was at her side in seconds, the fluffy creatures parting like the sea to allow him to get closer to y/n. “They want to take you to the birthing grounds. There is a lamb that will go into labor soon, and the rest wish for you to be there during the birth. They say they would like your… blessing.”

The lambs, like the sunflowers, knew more than the Fae King did about his feelings. 

Her jaw drops in surprise and her eyebrows furrow. “Wha- me? But what can I do?”  At her hesitation, the lambs still and wait, looking up at their king for his jurisdiction.

The lamb in Harry’s arms nuzzles into the crook of his elbow, and he saddens at the fact that he cannot take y/n’s hand without waking him up (it was the son of one of the feistiest sheep). “Your presence is all they require.” They lock eyes, and immediately her unease is dissolved. There was Harry, and with Harry everything felt… right. He smiles softly at her, his features melting because he felt it, too. 

Remembering that he had a job to do, he looks back down at the awaiting creatures, and says, “Let’s be gentle, yeah, lovies? We’re not going anywhere,” he cooed. 

A chorus of bleats responded, and the babes let go of y/n’s cotton dress. They trot away, their tails flicking and heads turning back to make sure they’re being followed by Harry and his guest, who looks around, amazed at the change of scenery. Slowly, the rosy tone of the sky was melting into a serene shade of red, and the white orb of light was dimming, it’s positions growing smaller, like a light slowly going out. 

“Is that the sun?” She asked. 

Harry laughed, “No. It acts more like a heating lamp, and it fades away to replicate the night, so the animals huddle together for warmth until it… turns back on again. The color of the sky is connected towards menstruation and placenta; blood, a symbol of females and fertility.”

“That’s a beautiful meaning,” she mumbled. The ground on which the lambs walked on was so fresh and healthy-looking, a bright shade of green, that almost looked artificial. “So, is this another… realm?” 

He had to bite on his lip to keep from shouting endearments at her. She was smart, bright, curious, and Harry loved the way that she was right on track, a few steps behind, but she understood. “I suppose you could call it that. Although, it is more like a pocket in the Fae realm, a singular realm on itself entirely. It is a space where mother’s can come to have their children safely. This pocket belongs to the sheep. There are others for other animals, and even one for the Fae.”

“Do… Do other Fae come here?”

He shook his head. “No. No, they are not trusted.” Even he, at first try, was not trusted. It took him three days of sitting underneath a large oak tree, watching and letting the sheep sniff him, in order to let him pet them. Another two months for them to let him through. Why Harry wanted to become a part of their society, Harry himself could not tell you, but in reality, he yearned for their tenderness. He watched the way the animals loved each other, and deep down, he wanted their affection, too, because it wasn't something he was getting from his people. 

“And they trust you?” They were beginning to descend the hill, when two large rectangular rocks spaced about ten-feet away from each other sprouted from the ground without so much as a rumble. The animals thought nothing of this, and walked right through the space between the rocks, the image of the grassy land rippling as if a drop of water had just hit a pond’s surface. Another portal.

Y/n is only slightly fazed, and the halt in her step lasts a second. If Harry is going through it, then she would, too.

“Yes. It took me months to get them to trust me, but I would do it all over again for their company.” 

Their company? Harry was a king and he was looking for company among animals? 

“Prepare for warmth when we pass those stones,” he said, “The cave replicates the coziness of a womb to make it easier for a newborn to transition to the world.” At this point the lamb in his arms stirred and began to bleat in his arms, to which Harry shushed quietly and patted to silence. 

Y/n subtly crept closer to Harry, the head of the lamb that laid on the bend of his elbow brushed against her arm. Walking between the stone walls was similar to the time she walked through the portal; the similar consuming sensation, only it was accompanied by immense heat, almost suffocating. Not the type that made you sweat, but the kind that put you to sleep. A blanket of warmth, just like he had described. A dull, but concentrated, heat rolled over her skin like a fitted membrane. It was comforting and hazy.

Upon first walking in she was more focused on the feeling than her surroundings. She shut her eyes and took a waking breather before opening them and noticing that, again, just like Harry said, they were in a cave. The walls were a vein-y, papery texture- like when you shine a flashlight through a chicken’s egg and can see the embryo in a shadowy red silhouette. Lambs were sleeping in curled piles on top of each other so they looked like tufts of cotton clouds. There was a crackling fire in the middle of the large cavern that added to the source of heat, and the brightness of the papery walls suggested that there was a light source coming from the outside. 

A nervous ‘baa’ called out to Harry. In the far corner there was an isolated circle of space where a sheep lay on her side, her legs stiff in pain. The only ram present was next to her, nudging his horns against her womb (not in aggression, but in concern). He must’ve been her mate.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re almost there,” Harry cooed. He put down the lamb he held in his arms into the pile of nestled clouds. “Go, on. Keep pushing, you can do it.” He’s quick to kneel at the sheep’s side, and rub down her belly in encouraging strokes. The female gives another strangled cry when Harry looks up at a horrified y/n. “Come, my dear. It’s all right.” He said, summoning her with an outstretched hand. 

“I know I’m supposed to be helping, b-but it really looks like she’s in pain,” her voice is wobbly, and she’s fidgety, not knowing what to do with herself. It’s a relief when Harry offers physical touch, almost like he knew that it put out whatever fire of anxiety burned in her heart. She took his hand and knelt besides him. 

He nodded. “She is experiencing labor, and with that comes the pain.” The sheep’s lower half contracted, and her legs stiffened, a pained bleat escaping her. “Being a mother is not an easy task, from the start.” With a soothing hand, Harry patted her belly softly. A sheen of sweat settled on his forehead, his eyes darting, assessing the animal’s pain. 

“What can I do to help?” Her hand grew sweaty in Harry’s grip, and she was worried that he would grow repulsed and let go, but he only squeezed reassuringly. There was a moment of silence, even the mother sheep took a break from labor pains and took deep breaths. 

“Nothing, yet. Your presence itself is calming. If there are issues during the labor, then we step in. Otherwise, we are only to oversee and let nature take its course.” 

Y/n nodded, and that was it for speaking until the sheep began to cry out again. Harry didn’t say anything either. He was too busy trying to comfort, trying to soothe, not at all surprised or disconcerted by the scene playing before him. She wasn’t disgusted or repulsed, but definitely in shock, having never seen such life-altering events. 

“Will she be in pain much longer?” She squeaked out. The ram besides the sheep was growing restless, huffing through his nose and stomping his hoof. The mother’s legs curled forward again, and something- the lamb or the placenta- became visible. 

“Your baby is almost here, love, keep going- not much longer. She is a brave being. Her last birth did not even last a three hours, but this one seems to be going by quick. Her time between contract- oh, I know it hurts, c’mon, keep pushing,” Harry looked up at y/n and smiled, “Her time between contractions is short.”

Y/n bobbed her jumbled head. It was safe to say that the girl was very confused. Confused and shocked, and at a loss because she knew absolutely nothing about what to do in this situation. So, she sat still with her hand in Harry’s and stayed quiet, listening to Harry murmur to the mammal in labor.  For how long she sat there, who knew, but everything past her ankles lost feeling, and the back of her neck grew damp. Although Harry told her that the mother sheep would be fierce through this experience, she was slightly hopeless in the fact that she couldn't further help the animal. Her mate- the sheep’s- was too. 

It wasn’t until there was the sound of water spilling, and the thump of something hitting the floor accompanied by several rounds of excited bleats from not just the ram, but the surrounding animals as well. They were celebrating the birth of-

“Look at you, you did it!” Harry joined in on their celebration, and y/n- still very… still very out of it- looked up to catch the most breathtaking expression on his face. Awestruck, amazed, bewildered, did not even begin to cover what was playing out on his features. There were crinkles on the edges of his gleaming, green eyes, and a breathless smile on his lips. He was so absorbed in the act of new life, that he didn’t notice the extra attention he was receiving from the person sitting next to him. Her expression nearly mirrored his, captivated by the complete consumption of himself he allowed. It was not hard to tell that every bit of his soul was consumed by what’s playing out. 

Harry extended his unoccupied hand towards the yelping baby lamb, a golden drop of light appearing on his palm and it floated towards the damp head of the newborn, spreading all over it’s- the lamb hadn’t been sexed yet- body like a sheet. The mother stopped her licking to allow this to happen. 

“What- what is that?” y/n asked. She knew that whatever was happening was not a bad thing because the source was Harry himself, but she wanted to know. 

He looked at her then, the bewilderment and drop of his guard slowly disappearing. “It is my gift. A drop of good luck.” The glow of the fire licked his jaw a warm shade.

“A gift?” Again, she was at a loss. 

“Yes.” He said it like it was obvious, and she became slightly embarrassed. Should she have.. brought something to this? She didn’t have anything to give, but still. “As a token of my gratitude.”

Gratitude… gratitude…

Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she thought of the one way she could give.

Y/n got up from her knees and leaned across Harry’s bent thighs, reaching out to smooth over damp ears (much to Harry’s loss, this mean that she had to let go of his hand). The lamb arched into her touch, and she pressed forward to kiss the place where the golden drop made contact on it’s head. 

Harry watched this, amazed that his guest had taken such initiative, and flustered because in the process, the white cotton fabric of the cloth that he had so tenderly manifested around her body had crawled up the skin of her thighs. Resting just below the curve of her bum, on top of tempting skin that Harry wished- gods, he wished they could reach that mutual understanding, that mutual agreement that didn’t require hesitation on his part if he wanted to caress her. Or, even though they were present in front of only delicate and graceful creatures, adjust her clothing to protect her modesty. What was wrong with him?

“Aren’t you a cutie?” She cooed. After a few more pats, she leaned back with a content sigh, using Harry’s thigh to push herself upright. “I’ve given my gift as well.”

“He’ll never forget it.”

“He? He’s a he?”

Harry chuckled. “Yes, he is his father’s first male descendant, and the future leader of the herd.” 

“Does he have a name?” 

“No. The sheep do not identify themselves in that sort of way. The call out to their souls.” He said. The ram walked in to harry, and bowed his head without aggression. A thank you. Harry did the same, and touched his forehead onto the ram’s horns. 

Y/n realized that it wasn’t a thank you. It was a...a moment of communication. What went on, what occurred, that was unknown to her. But the gesture between leader to leader was clear.

Harry’s knuckles supported his weight, and his biceps flexed as he leaned forward. Chocolate curls flopped over morrocan sand horns. It was a touching view. 

When the ram retreated, Harry looked on in silence at the budding family for a moment before he said, “I believe that now is the time we must go.” 

Y/n nodded. “Okay,” she said. Harry stood up, and again he offered her his hand. He did not let go when she stood up on her two feet and was steady, and neither did she. The two were content to hold the other’s hand as they sidestepped sleeping piles of sheep and lambs to eventually reach the egg-shell wall. The king knew the stop which to walk through, and led them right through.

Outside, the light had dimmed noticeably, and the sky was a deep, blood-red. 

“Is it nighttime?” asked y/n.

“For the lambs, yes. In my realm,” a smile quirked on his lips, “no.”

Y/n looked for the shrub tunnel at the top of the hill which they came through, but it was gone. The only thing visible in their ascend to the crest was the grass clearing in harsh contrast with the bloody sky. All of the sheep were gone into the cave, and an eerie silence misted across the grounds. Not even the lapping of the heart-shaped pool; the water was still. 

“Where’s the portal?” she said. 

Amused at her labeling for the entryway, Harry chuckled quietly. “It is not a portal, love. Merely a door that chooses to show itself only sometimes. Besides, I have other means of travel.” He pulled her close from an ounce of courage that had rooted in his ribcage. A strong arm around her waist; iron security. 

Y/n let out a surprised yelp, and stabilized herself with a hand on his bicep. To a human it would look like they were getting ready to dance. With their faces millimeters apart, she wanted nothing but for him to kiss her. Hold her like he was already doing, and never let her go. He was absolutely delicious. From how close she was to him- her front lining up with his side- she could see the pointed tips of his ears for the first time. The one characteristic that set him apart from being human. 

She was unable to help it. The urge to touch was too strong. In fact, there was a lot she wanted to touch so technically she was holding off on a lot. He was looking at her as she slid her hand up his bicep, leaving goosebumps behind, and delicately reached out a single finger towards the tip of his ear. 

Harry held his breath, a scalding heat trailing the path her skin left. In that moment, when every inch of his celestial self was hyper focused on her, he was convinced that there was more to the situation than he was aware of. It simply was not possible that she held no magic in her arsenal, and that she was not possessing him. 

“I’d never seen these before.” Her voice was a whisper, because she knew that it would crack under extreme stress if she tried to speak at a normal level. Being that close to him, touching him, and the way that he looked at her… it made her weak in the knees. 

“Do you like them?” Harry’s tone of voice imitated hers, his chin dipped. The tip of his nose ghosted over her forehead. His breath smelled like mint leaves. 

A shiver raked down y/n’s spine at the same pace that his breath smoked over her face. She nodded. She did like them. Very much. 

“Good.” He nodded his head, as if convincing himself that she did like them. His voice dropped again, and the only reason why she could hear what he was saying was because they were standing so close to one another. “Close your eyes for me, darling.”

 This was it. He’s going to kiss me, she thought to herself. Her eyes fluttered closed upon his instruction, and her head tipped back just the slightest bit. Taught, likes the strings on a violin is what she was, waiting to be plucked and played by Harry and his fingers.

But… that kiss never came. 

Y/n’s lips parted and her body came to rest completely onto Harry’s side, but she never felt her lips on his. Instead, the ground disappeared beneath her feet and her hair lifted from her back. She kept her eyes closed, waiting, until-

“You can open them now,” he said. He watched y/n’s eyebrows furrow, and her lips dip downwards. Her dissatisfaction was clear on her face, and even though she knew exactly what she yearned for because it was the exact same thing that he wished for as well, he didn’t make any advances. Instead, he took his thumb and smoothed over the center of her eyebrows to make the wrinkles go away.  “Don’t look so distraught, beloved. Come, come, open your eyes.”

Embarrassment, anger, sadness, disappointment, all wrapped up in one and presented to her in a box with a pretty red bow; deception. She really thought that he was going to kiss her. 

Dejected, y/n opened her eyes and immediately turned to look towards the side to avoid meeting his gaze. She wasn’t sure she wanted to attempt to read further into the situation and receive incorrect signals. They were back in the ring of tall sunflowers, besides the stone bench, though this time their petals were closed as if they were still budding blossoms, arching high towards the glittering stars in the night sky.  

She stepped away from him, and for a moment they stood there awkwardly. Y/n toed the ground, and Harry stood still. The only thing moving on his figure was the soft lilac ripples in the wind. Eons of life had taught him how to be still at times of boredom. 

He cleared his throat, and tried to strike a conversation again. “Time travels differently in the Land of Nurture, which is why I was unsure to say whether it was nightfall here.” He cleared his throat once more, “I suppose that-”

“I’m tired.” A cricket chirped somewhere in the grass. Y/n had no remorse for interrupting him. She needed to remove herself from the situation. Sleep on it, maybe. 

Had she been looking at him, she would’ve immediately kicked herself for cursing the fallen look on his face. “Of course. I’ll walk you back inside.” 

The night call of nature serenaded their stale parade through the garden. And through the halls of the castle. The bottom of her feet grew cold for the first time in the entirety of her visit in the Fae realm. When he stopped at the arch of her doorway, y/n wanted nothing more than to curl under the covers, but she knew it would be rude to bolt for a bed the king provided for her while he was standing right there, no matter her feelings. 

“I would… uhm,” he swallowed, and the harsh rasp of his voice diminished. “I would sleep soundly if I knew that you were going to bed with fresh clothing. I know that you cannot eat, and there are no bathing quarters in this room, so let me… uhm,” a pink tint blossoms on the apples of his cheeks. “Will you allow me to provide new clothes for you?”

Y/n was stunned. There was underlying symbolism to his request, this she knew. How, despite everything he was willing to make sure that she was comfortable. How he cared for a stranger he could obliterate with a flick of his wrist if he wanted to. 

He was getting flustered. His hands were behind his back, but by the way that his biceps moved it was clear that he was nervously fiddling his fingers. “I’ll take you somewhere to wash up tomorrow, but for now, clean clothes is the best I can-” 

“I’d like that,” she nodded slowly, sucking her lips into her mouth. It was her turn to feel awkward, as she stood there silently with her eyes bouncing from his, to the floor, to him, to the ceiling, to him... and he did the same.

“Stand on the pedestal for me?” He asked. 

“Okay.” She moved further into the room, and climbed up to the step. The coldness of her skin was eradicated by a heat eminating from the wood. It made her shoulders sag and her eyes shut in pleasure. It was a good feeling. 

Y/n didn’t question whether Harry would bare her naked by stripping her at the first go, but a tickling feeling of lace wrapping around and underneath her breasts told her that he would place pretty little underthings before manifesting new fabric onto her body. She was staring down at the floor, flustered because it felt as if his fingers were the one’s dressing her. 

And she was right. Soon after the feeling of feathers on her skin stopped, the white milkmaid’s dress with grass stains vanished into thin air, leaving her only in lacy pink underwear that so delicately wrapped around the curves of her breasts and the swell of her mound. They were just barely transparent, and the swirl of her areolas were a ghosting tease underneath the material. 

In a brief second, she realized she was exposed to Harry, and her head snapped up to meet his. A strange, lonely king that was looking at her- a human in a land of immortals- expectantly. “Would you like something different?”

Dazedly, she shook her head, “no. These are pretty.”

Harry’s mouth went dry, but he kept his eyes on hers. He wouldn’t look down. Not yet. He dressed her in a dress that was in similar fashion to the one before. Light, airy, and loose on her body, and in a light blue shade. The straps were thin strings on her shoulders, and pooled on the floor so her feet disappeared.

Y/n stepped down from the stump, her feet on the cold floor again. “I am most appreciative,” she whispered. Her eyes nervously dropped from his again, and he sighed in defeat.

Harry shook his head. “You can say, thank you, you know. I won’t hurt you.”

“Thank you. They’ve lovely.” A yawn ate up the last bit of her sentence.

“You should rest. We have a short walk tomorrow.” He started to walk back out the doorway, but stopped just before he turned the corner. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

She went to sleep that night thinking of the warmth that emitted from his hand against her palm, of the way his lips curled into a smile, of the way that he allowed himself to become so wholly absorbed by what was going on around him. The sticky feeling of embarrassment tried to snake in on the picture she was trying to paint to lull herself to sleep, but y/n pushed it away. 

She went to sleep that night thinking of the Fae king. 

The area where her feet lay at the end of the bed was particularly warm all through the night. 

    *                                                *              *

                                                  *                                **

The next morning was equally as glorious as the one from before, only that this time her stomach and foul mood stained the innocent sunbeams that casted across her sheets. 

After nearly a day and a half of not eating, her stomach was beginning to ache. During times when money was tight, y/n wouldn’t eat and drink only water. This was similar to that, but… she had no water. She couldn’t eat or drink because Harry wouldn’t let her. If it was up to her, she would’ve helped herself to a full course meal at breakfast because she loved food, but alas, the king wouldn’t budge. 

Angus was there again, with another note. He smelled like corn. It read,

Good morning, beloved. I will be waiting with the sunflowers for you when you are ready. 

Beloved. Y/n smiled down at the piece of paper, the swirls of ink on paper enticing butterflies to flutter in her stomach. Never having ever experienced it herself, she heard of the exhilarating feeling that came with the drop of a roller coaster. The tightening of her abdomen was strikingly the same to the description of what that felt like. 

Angus tentatively poked her thigh with his hoof, and the reminder of his presence, y/n dropped the note and scooped the animal into her arms. He squealed and wriggled with happiness. 

“Why hello, handsome. It’s been a while since I last saw you,” She pressed kisses behind his ears, and when she lifted her mouth, Angus rested his head on her shoulder. “Where’d you run off to, hmm?”  

He snorted and lifted his head, his back legs shifting on her thighs and pressing into her skin. It hurt, but she didn’t have it in her heart to say anything. “Should we go see the king now?” 

Another squeal. 

“Yeah, I think so, too. Let’s go.” Y/n set him down on the floor and placed her feet down next to him. The warmth of her soles and the cold floor was a contrast that made her hiss and lift her feet up momentarily. The piglet stopped to look back at her as if concerned, and y/n smiled. “It’s just a little cold, Angus.”

He bobbed his head, understanding, and waiting for her to get back on her feet to continue walking. The cerulean blue of her dress swished around her ankles as she followed him out and through the castle. Vines and flowers bloomed and sprouted as they passed, bees and butterflies fluttered in through the flowers. 

The curtain of foxgloves parted as she approached and she was momentarily blinded by the morning sunlight. After her eyes cleared, she could see the walkway through the garden, and in a short distance, the opening of the tall circle of sunflowers that encased a bench, where a pale yellow figure sat. It was Harry, and y/n was frozen in place when she spotted him. 

The movement caught Harry’s eyes, and he stood from the bench. Both of them watched each other, frozen in their spots like they were scared movement would blow the other away. Y/n’s lips parted and her chest twisted, the flowers around Harry shivered. 

Angus, bless his soul, bumped his head, annoyed, on y/n’s calf as if to say ‘what are you waiting for? go talk to him!’

“Alright, geez,” she said, rolling her eyes at her friend before she started walking towards Harry. He waited for her at the edge of a stone bench, and toyed with the edge of what he was wearing; a veil-like material over his chest the color of wine, and a snow-white pair of flared pants. The most non-greek outfit of his that y/n has seen. Though his shirt was still extravagant and elegant, flowing bell-caps that reached the middle of his thighs, and an open, unbuttoned collar with ruffles around his neck that exposed his smooth, taught chest. 

“Hello,” she said once she reached him. Up close she could see that there was a wreath of stained purple leaves and fuschia colored flowers with white bulbs in the middle. To her, they were just flowers. Harry knew they were horny goat weeds. He had no control over them, and they usually reflected his mood. At a certain point of his adolescence, his elders noticed that he had a knack for herbs and gardening. It was part of his magick, part of who he was and what he felt. 

One careful look at the draping white cloth of his pants, and she’d see the tenting fabric at his crotch. He was having trouble… containing his thoughts late at night. “Good morning,” his words cut off in a way that suggested there was more to come after, but nothing did.  He shot a quick glance down at Angus, who had plopped down besides his feet. 

The sunflowers around them tilted towards y/n as she dug her toes into the grass and watched Harry, blushing and trying her hardest to hold back a cheesy smile that wanted to spread on her face from just seeing him.

“Are we going swimming today?” She whispered. Whatever tenderness had settled over them, she didn’t want to disturb it with a loud voice. 

Harry understood this, but chose to poke fun at her anyways, “Why are you whispering, darling?” He was whispering, too. Angus watched, his head turning back and forth like it was a tennis match.

She couldn’t hold the smile back anymore, and the blush spread to a warmth on her ears. “I dunno,” she shrugged.

“Yes, we will go swimming today. Angus will be joining us. I believe he may have been a fish in a past life, he loves the water so much.”  He placed a kiss on the creature’s head, and nodded his head towards the river. 

Y/n laughed, and began walking with Harry, the sunflowers following her way out of the ring, and then tilting back up towards the sun when she was out of reach. They moved in silence, their strides in sync so they looked like one. 

“How did you meet him?” She threw out a question just to hear him speak.

He tilted his head to the side to see her, the ruffles of his collar tickling his chin. “Who? Angus?” 

“Mhm.” She hummed. 

“Well,” he sighed, “It was on a rainy spring day, about three years ago, I reckon. Maybe more, this fella does not like to age. He was a victim of a foul trick, and lost his mother.” Angus whined, and Harry covered his ear so he couldn’t listen, the other side of his head pressed against Harry’s chest. “To what extent ‘lost’ goes, it is knowledge I am not privy to.” He removed his hand, and Angus looked up at him. “ But he found me, and we have been friends since. Isn’t that right?”

“It’s lucky that you found each other,” she said, smiling sadly.

“Will you be leaving any friends if you decide to stay?” His interest was heavy in his question, as was the hope that maybe she might stay. That maybe they might reach that mutual understanding. 

Y/n shook her head slowly, “No, I wasn’t much of a social butterfly, and not many people take the time to get to know me. And I think you mean when.” They were beginning to reach the bank, the sound of flowing water louder as they got closer. 

“I- I don’t understand,” his eyebrows furrowed, “were they mean to you?” Right before they dipped into water, Harry wrapped an arm around her bicep to gently redirect her so that they walked alongside the stream. In his arms, Angus was looking to be sleeping. 

“When I was in school, yes. I guess that I just didn’t fit in, because everyone else turned against me, and sometimes girls would make fun of me. Once I got older, I was the outcast at work. And I didn’t go out much because I didn’t, you know, have any friends to hang out with,” she said. 

“What?” Y/n looks over at him, surprised at his outburst. His brows are deeply furrowed and his voice is heavy with hurt. “You did nothing to them and they decided to be foul over nothing? That is completely unfair.’

 Y/n shook her head. “It’s alrigh-”

“No, it is not alright, and it is not fine!” He was getting agitated, and Agnus was waking up. A vein on his neck protruded from his neck. He was shaking his head as he spoke, his distaste showing through his rigid body language; the curls that were pushed back with the flowers in his head fell out with his movements, framing his face in a chaotic way. “It should not have to be this way. It’s the same reason why my* kingdom is in ruins. I just do not understand why-”

With a comforting hand on his bicep, y/n stopped him in his tracks. “Harry, it’s okay. There’s nothing we can do about it now. That’s why-”

She stepped in front of him so that she could place her other hand on his biceps, holding him. When she came into clear view of his eyesight, Harry tilted his head to Angus, who had settled back in the crook of his arm when he noticed that y/n took initiative to comfort him. His pink lips were pressed into a firm line, his eyelashes fluttering every time he blinked. Blinked back tears. 

“I’m sorry. I know that that feels like.” He sniffled and y/n cupped his cheek with her hand, swiping away the first tear that fell. Her heart cracked in two at the wavering of his voice. “I wish it did not have to be this way.”

“I do, too,” Her own voice was watery. She was always the one to cry when she saw someone else do so as well, “but if it wasn’t that way, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have met you.” 

His gaze lifted at her words, and a weepy frown found its way onto his lips, “as much as I want you to stay, I fear the troubles you might face. The people here do not listen to me, and their treacherous ways are not something that I endorse.” 

Her hand dropped again, to his bicep, and she tilted her head to the side playfully, like she was thinking. “I’ll stick by your side, and-”

He smirked. “I stick by yours, yes.” He took a hand out from underneath Agnus, and bopped her on the nose. “But, that is only after the three days.”

Y/n rolled her eyes at him, and stepped away to take her place besides him. “Again with the three days? Why are you so hung up on them?”

He shrugged, proud and smug. “I stick by my word, honeybaby.” 

Y/n’s jaw dropped, and her eyes shut for a moment, “H-honeybaby?” Harry’s lips puckered like he was taking joy in her flustered state. He waited for her hands to unclench. A bird chirped in the distance.

He licked his bottom lip, “Do you like it?”

Y/n brushed it off, and cleared her throat. “Come on, I wanna go swimming,” She tried to tug on his delicate sleeve, but he wrapped a hand around her neck and pulled her close, looking down at her with fierce domination. Y/n’s eyes widened and her heart thumped wildly in her chest. She was, what you could say, intimidated.

He tutted his tongue, his head cocking, “You didn’t answer me, honeybaby. Did you like the name, or no? I wouldn’t want to displease you by calling you something you don’t like.” Y/n shut her eyes, her left foot hooking around her right ankle so she could press her thigh together where a heat was building up. “So, I’ll ask you again, do you like the name, honeybaby?”

“Yes.” She swallowed, opened her eyes, and nodded. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she was frozen. He was a different person then, his eyes a darker shade of green, the smile on his lips borderline malicious with all the subliminal filth it held. “Yes, I like it.” The tent in his crotch was more noticeable then, and if he shifted his hips forward just a hair, the tip of his dick would’ve brushed her silk covering her stomach. He almost shivered at the thought. 

In a blink, he was back to the ‘regular’ Harry she knew. Bright and cheerful. “Come along now, honeybaby, we’re almost there.” An inconspicuous brush down the front of his pants fixed his dilemma. 

They walked for a few more minutes, following the river up-stream, curving around the back of the castle where it trailed off into the horizon, leaving a strip of land wide enough for five people to walk through in between the river that went, and the river that came. A loop; a fence, around Harry’s castle. Down this strip they went, encased by water and a canopy of willow trees, until they came across a fork in the river. Stepping stones rose just above the water level to their right, leading to a lake-like retention of water. A pool, if you will. 

Harry slowed just before the rocks, and y/n got close enough that the first was a step away, “is this it?” She asked. 

He nodded, and set down Angus, who shook off the last of his sleep and hopped through the rocks. Y/n followed after him and jumped right into the sparkling pool of blue water, the same color of her dress; a crystalline aquamarine. She did not care if her clothes got wet, or if she had to walk back to the castle with wet clothes. The distraction was what she needed. 

It felt good, a nice cleanse from the two days of travel and sleeping in dirt, and yesterday, when sweat from the warmth of the Land of Nurture collected and dried on her skin. A heavenly feeling. She hated going to the pool at recreational centers because she hated the smell of bleach, and she didn’t have the guts to go out into the lake by herself. y/n had learned how to swim when she was little, and this? This felt like a rebirth.

When she resurfaced, she pushed her dripping wet hair back and cheered. “Come into the water, Harry!” He was sitting on one of the stepping stones, only his feet and an inch of his pants dipping into the water. “It feels so good!” He shook his head, and the corner of his mouth lifted. “Come in! It’s not even cold!” It wasn’t, it was actually warm. 

She pleaded once more, and he finally gave in. He said, “oh alright,” and jumped into the water, a swift and graceful dive she only ever saw on TV, in the olympics.

He dove deep, just where the water got murky- though it wasn’t even that, the water just got too, too blue*- enough that she couldn’t see him. 

“Harry? Harry, where did you go?” She fumbled around the water, looking around her circle of space for his lithe body. “Harry, it’s not funn- AH!” Her kicking foot brushed against something sleek that moved away, and she shrieked. 

Harry came up in a splash besides her, shaking his wet hair in his face. “Here!” 

Y/n shrieked again, her fright so big that she swallowed a gulp of water and lost her equilibrium, her head dipping underneath the water. Immediately, Harry lunged to grab her by the waist so her head was above water. She coughed up the water that was in his lungs, and breathed raggedly. “Woah, woah, honeybaby,” Harry stroked her hair back, “tt’s alright, I’ve got you. It’s just me, ‘was-” He was breathless, “‘was playing.”

He watched her as her breathing returned to normal. Her hands were gripping his biceps fiercely, and her legs had somehow wrapped around his waist.

When she felt him clear his throat, her eyes focused on his, and her breath hitched. The look in his eyes, the stroke of heathen… it was there again. Though his lips were curled upwards, and he was watching her carefully to make sure that she was okay, there was a sliver of space from control and loss of it. 

Y/n felt it. She felt it every time his legs moved, kicking to make sure they both stayed afloat.

“Can I ask you something?” She was quivering with anticipation in his arms. Although she had faced rejection just the day before, the warmth she felt in that moment was enough for her courage to build up again. 

“Anything, my darling,” he rasped. The octave of her voice rumbled down her spine. My darling.

“Will you… will you kiss me?”

   *                                                *              *

                                                 *                                **

The third and final part has already been completed, I just wanted a clean break between the two :) It’ll be posted after a mafia!h blurb. 

[peachcitt]

falling, flying

a miraculous ladybug fic

for @softkwami for @mlsecretsanta

Tags: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ladrien, Adrinette, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, MLB Wing Au

Summary: 

“It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

or

in which marinette and adrien speed toward a foreseeable end on purpose. and also a little bit on accident

read on ao3

enjoy :)

=

Marinette felt, all things considered, that this situation was not her fault. 

Granted, she was the one who threw herself into the fight without coming up with a plan, but how was that supposed to be her fault when this akuma had started making problems exactly seven minutes before her chemistry exam? She’d stayed up nearly all night cram studying (that much, she’ll admit, was her fault), and she’d be damned if she didn’t show up on time to at least get a B minus on it. So she’d barreled into the fight without Chat because she really wanted to get this all over with. She could hardly be blamed for that.

And she certainly couldn’t be blamed for the fact that she was currently speeding toward the hard cement ground right outside a posh business building in the heart of the city at terminal velocity, hands, legs, and wings bound tight.

Sure, there was that comment she’d made to the already very upset akuma about his nose, but, well.

Okay, so maybe this situation was a little bit her fault. 

But, like, that was just the nature of being a superhero.

Sometimes, you ended up speeding toward a very foreseeable end, knowing that it’s going to hurt, but not quite knowing how to avoid it. And that’s just life, too.

Not that she was going to let herself become a smear of sidewalk gum. She had her miraculous to protect, after all, and she also had this Daedalus-damn chemistry test that she was going to get a B minus on - no, screw that - a B plus on. There was also the matter of dying at the tender age of seventeen, but that existential dread didn’t touch her as she watched her pissed-off reflection follow her down, down, down on the polished windows of the building she had been thrown off of.

It’s not like she could rely on Chat to get her out of this one. Who knows when he’d show up.

She twisted around in the air, trying to maneuver her bound arms to her hip, where her yo-yo was. If she could grab it, she could summon her lucky charm, and she could stop her fall with the help of a handy-dandy polka-dotted tube of chapstick, or something.

The tips of her fingers brushed against her yo-yo, and her arms ached. Icarus above, the akuma couldn’t have tied her arms in the front of her body? At least then she wouldn’t have to try and bend her left arm at a weird angle to get around her wings.

This, as it turned out, was becoming a dire situation.

She had about ten floors to go before she would eat cement. Her left arm was cramping, and her fingers could only brush up against the feathers of her bound wings instead of anywhere near the yo-yo. She tried to stretch her wings out, test the binds, and only ended up crying out in frustrated pain.

Well. She could always aim for a clumsy rolling landing.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a shaking breath through her nose, and braced herself for the inevitable impact. The bitter cold air whipped past her cheeks, and she released the breath she was holding.

This was fine.

She’d had more than a few landings that had left her battered and bruised throughout her lifetime, and this was just another one.

Not that she’d ever fallen off of a thirty story building before, but, like, semantics. She would probably be fine.

Unless she died.

Just as the thought occurred to her, her body connected with something hard, a jolt traveling through her bones, and she sucked in a punishing breath, eyes flying open.

But she hadn’t hit cement, like she first thought. She’d hit-

She’d been caught in someone’s arms.

There was a familiar smell - mint and spice - and she relaxed into familiar arms. “Nice of you to fly by, Cha-”

The person holding her looked down, and her words caught in her throat. 

It was Adrien who had caught her. 

Not Chat.

Adrien. Adrien Agreste. Adrien with the beautiful wings he never used to fly, Adrien her classmate, Adrien with the green eyes that sparkled in sunshine and glimmered still on cloudy days, Adrien with the kind smiles, Adrien with the nice hands, Adrien with the nice hands that were currently holding her as they soared up into the air. Adrien freaking Agreste.

“Ah,” she said, and she could feel his hand, gentle, cradling her wings, fingertips light and steady on her feathers.

“I thought you might,” he started, his cheeks coloring, “uh, need a hand.”

“Right,” she said rather weakly. They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then he looked away, looking for a suitable place to land. She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes following the strong line of his jaw, up the smooth curve of his cheek, over the sharp bridge of his nose. Her eyes caught on a little crease in between his eyebrows, and she frowned.

Her eyes flicked down to his lips, and she saw they were pinched tightly, as if he was in pain but trying to hide it.

“Are you-” she started, and then stopped, breath catching in her throat. His wings. She was only just now looking at them properly.

“Am I what?” he asked, glancing down at her as they landed gracefully on the next building over from the one she’d been thrown off of. He tucked his wings back in their normal, perfectly straight posture, and his pinched expression relaxed.

But she couldn’t get the image out of her mind. His wings - his golden, regal wings she so admired but had never seen spread - had been littered with spots that had been rubbed raw. Feathers falling, skin red. Raw.

“Your wings,” she said, and she felt his grip tighten on her legs, but he just as quickly relaxed, setting her down with a smile.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he said, moving around her so that he could untie her hands and wings. “Not really.”

“It looks like it hurts,” she said, shaking out her wings once they were free and bending down to untie her ankles.

“It doesn’t,” he said, and she looked up at him, at his perfect posture that hid his injuries.

She stood, and his gaze followed her. She reached out a hand, shaking fingers just barely brushing along his smooth outer feathers. Her eyes met his, and he took in an unsteady breath. “Doesn’t it?” she asked, and he shrugged half-heartedly, feathers bristling.

“Not usually.”

“Oh, Adrien,” she whispered, pained, and he blinked. And she remembered.

She wasn’t supposed to know him. Sure, she’d saved him a couple times with the mask on, but she wasn’t supposed to whisper his name like she knew him, like she felt for him.

“S-sorry,” she said, stepping away, and she saw, belatedly, that his hand was reaching for her. Her heart ached. “I- you- we.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “I have to get back to the fight. You should get to safety.”

“Yeah,” he said.

Neither of them moved.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek. “It’s not supposed to hurt,” she said softly. “Flying, I mean. It’s not supposed to hurt.”

His jaw worked. His mouth settled on a smile. “I know.”

Chat showed up not long after that, and they made quick work of the akuma. Marinette avoided any more comments about his nose, rolled her eyes along to Chat’s dumb jokes, and tried not to think about Adrien.

During her chemistry exam - which she showed up ten minutes late for - she also tried not to think about Adrien. But he was sitting right in front of her, and every time she looked up to think, his wings were right there. Regal, golden. Raw.

How many people had seen his wings spread up close like that? Adrien never flew anywhere - he never had to. Perks of being the son of a famous fashion mogul who owned fancy cars and private jets. In gym, he always ran laps because of a daily doctor’s note - who knows what it said. He always took the stairs instead of flight paths, and his wings were always tucked neatly away, glimmering underneath the crappy public school fluorescents.

She tore her eyes away from Adrien’s wings, staring hard down at her test. Icarus, she’d be lucky if she scraped by with a C. Today sucked.

---

“I’m going to spend the entirety of winter break curled up in a blanket nest,” Alya groaned, flopping down at their picnic table. Marinette scooted to the side to make room, hardly looking up from her lunch. “These tests are killer. I think our teachers are out for blood this year.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nino scoffed. “I have my literature exam on lock.”

“Yeah?” Alya asked, raising her eyebrows. “And what about pre-cal?” Nino made a face. “That’s what I thought,” Alya replied.

Adrien looked away from his friends, eyes focusing on Marinette. She’d been acting strange ever since chemistry - she’d shown up late, no doubt caught up in the akuma attack just like half of their class, including him - but this quiet from her seemed more heavy than the quiet dejection of a student afraid of midterms. She kept on shooting him looks and then looking away, like there was something on his face that made her want to cry.

“How have your exams gone, Marinette?” he asked, and she jumped, not expecting to be spoken to. Her eyes met his, and she quickly looked away, a smile forcing itself onto her lips.

“Oh, you know. Terrible. But that’s fine, I guess.”

“I’m sure you did better than you think,” he assured. “We’re our own worst critics, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said, and she squinted her eyes at him, as if trying to mimic a smile reaching up to her eyes, before looking away again.

Well, he was sure she hated him.

Okay, so maybe he was overreacting.

He was definitely - probably - overreacting.

It was just something about Marinette - something about her that always made him think a little too much. He supposed it was a residual rub from the way they had met a couple years ago what with them starting off on the wrong foot, and, yes, he was aware that if he was a healthy person, then he wouldn’t still be overanalyzing their first interaction every time Marinette’s face fell in his presence, but that was beside the point.

He just.

Well. He wanted to be liked by her. And that was natural, to want to be liked by a friend, to want to be liked by someone as amazing as her.

He didn’t want to see her upset. He wanted to see her smile, as much as he was able. She had a wonderful smile, after all.

Marinette’s strange behavior extended through the rest of the week, and on the Friday before break, Adrien mustered up his courage to ask. She normally flew home, so Adrien raced up the stairs to the roof, only just catching her as she was saying goodbye to Alya. Her eyes caught on him, the same color as the bright, cold winter sky, and her eyebrows twisted in something akin to pain.

Alya followed her gaze to him, and her eyebrows raised. She looked back to Marinette, said something that Adrien couldn’t quite hear, squeezed Marinette’s arm, and then lifted off the roof, rust-colored wings causing a wind to rustle through Marinette’s hair. Marinette looked after her for a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, before turning back to Adrien.

“Hey,” he said as he walked closer, and a small smile twitched at her lips - almost as if on instinct. 

“Hi,” she replied, tilting her head at him. “You’re flying home?”

“Ah, no, not today,” Adrien said, shaking his head and ignoring the itch of the binds hidden beneath his feathers. “I just, well. Uh.”

This was new. He was normally very good at talking.

Marinette watched him, gaze careful. 

“I wanted to ask,” he continued, running a nervous hand through his hair, “if there was anything I’d done. To upset you.”

Marinette blinked. “What?”

“Because,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting, “I’ve noticed that you’re more, um, quiet around me than usual, and I” - he remembered his father normally kept his hands clasped behind his back, cold, professional, and he unclasped his hands, stuffing them in his pockets - “I just wanted to know, I suppose. If it was anything I’d done. So that I could apologize.” The air was cold, and a biting breeze nipped at his cheeks and nose. He swallowed. “I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

“I’m not!” Marinette said, hardly before he finished his last sentence, and he blinked. Her cheeks, red with the cold, became a little redder - no doubt from the new gust of wind that brushed past them both. “I’m not upset or angry with you or anything at all like that, not even a little bit! You haven’t done anything wrong, you’re perfect, I promise, I just-” She stopped, biting on her bottom lip, her shoulders travelling up to her ears. She didn’t continue.

“Is there anything I can do?” Adrien asked, and Marinette’s expression travelled somewhere between a smile and a pinched frown. 

“Just…” She trailed off, and she reached over, dainty hand settling on his shoulder. He was sure her fingers flexed, brushing along his feathers. “Have a good break, okay? Spread your wings a little bit for me.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze, and then she let go, lifting off from the roof of the school. Her pretty brown wings, speckled with white, carried her through the cold winter air, and Adrien stared after her silhouette.

Spread his wings.

Somehow, Adrien thought, Marinette always seemed to say just the things that made his chest ache.

---

Marinette spent the first half of her winter break thinking. She also spent that first half of her winter break trying not to think. She made dresses and sweaters and pants from old clothes and bedsheets, trying to keep her hands busy so her mind wouldn’t take over. She pricked her fingers more times in those first few days than she had all year.

She looked forward to Morpheusmus by making her friends gifts and dropping them off at their respective houses, determined to keep her spirits high for the holiday. 

It was winter, and Morpheusmus was supposed to be all about cheer and friendship and good dreams. Giving gifts to friends and family to encourage peaceful nights through the long dark hours, while nature slept in its cold. And she was giving her gifts with a damn smile on her face, no matter how much she kept thinking about-

She held Adrien’s wrapped gift - a warm red sweater made from the softest fabric she could find - tightly in her arms as she dropped down to the ground in front of the gates of the Agreste mansion. She dropped the package in the drop box, checking twice to make sure she’d signed her name, and then looked up at the mansion. Towering and cold, colder than the winter air.

She’d done some research, on those nights when she couldn’t avoid thinking.

About wing binding.

It was a common practice in well-off families to encourage good posture and to show off wealth. In excessive amounts, it could cause pain and long-term injury to the person binded. 

She bit at the inside of her cheek.

So, she was doing something stupid.

It’s not like she decided - right then at the gates to the Agreste mansion - that she’d do what she’d decided to do, but staring up at that awful mansion had certainly encouraged her. It wasn’t her place, to intrude on family affairs, but Daedalus be damned, she didn’t give a shit.

She lo-

She cared about Adrien. It was awful to think about him hurting, every day, all the time. She couldn’t have another friend that meant so much to her living a life of pain - not when she knew  that she might be able to do something about it. If she went in and didn’t find any bindings, then she would take her leave and that would be it. But.

But if she did find bindings, then.

Well. It was a stupid plan. A disaster in the making.

But Marinette was quite used to being a step away from disaster. 

She found it quite nice, in fact, to step close so disaster for the sake of someone else. It was a nice change of pace from her own disasters. 

---

On the last night of Morpheusmus, Adrien walked into his room from a late night kitchen raid to see Ladybug standing before his bed, arms crossed. He froze.

The moonlight stumbled through his windows, reaching out for her, just barely managing to catch its fingers on her red wings, on her dark hair. She turned her head to look at him, bright blue eyes reflecting the stars of the night,  and then she looked down at his bed once more.

He realized then that there were things on his bed that hadn’t been there before he’d left for the kitchen.

His bindings.

Each one of them, their unforgiving lines of gold-colored vines, laid out on the bed. But they looked wrong, somehow. He stepped closer, frowning, and he realized, eyes wide, that they’d all been cut apart, each and every one of them.

Ladybug watched his face as he looked over his useless bindings. “Are you wearing one now?” she asked, voice quiet through the night, and Adrien nodded, speechless. He hadn’t gotten the chance to take off the one he’d worn throughout the day. “Come here,” she said softly, beckoning closer, and he followed the sound of her voice as if on instinct.

She turned him around, and he noticed idly that she only came up to his shoulder. But he felt small, smaller than her, and she seemed to know it. But she didn’t do anything with that knowledge, like other people in his life might’ve. She simply moved her hands through the feathers of his wings, gentle fingers finding the clasps of the bindings and undoing them. The bindings fell to the floor, and he turned around, watching her bend down and pick them up.

For a moment, she seemed to consider them for a moment, so little and heavy in her hands, and then she took the pair of scissors she’d left on the bed. And she slowly and methodically cut it apart.

He shivered at the freedom.

“I’ll leave a note for your father, if you’d like,” she said, setting down the remnants of the bindings on the bed and admiring her handiwork. “Say it was me who did this.”

“No,” he said, and she looked over at him, furrowing her eyebrows. He felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, and she touched a fleeting hand to his cheek. “He wouldn’t know where to find me,” she said, and then she looked back down at the bindings, her smile turning a little satisfied. “And besides, I chose to get in trouble.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she turned her smile to him, soft and sweet.

“Merry Morpheusmus, Adrien,” she said, and she turned to leave.

“Wait,” he said, and he caught her wrist in her hand, so small and strong. She turned, raising her eyebrows. “Why?” he asked. He didn’t need to elaborate.

For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer. And then she sighed, turning and sitting down on his bed. He sat down next to her, heart racing.

“You know of my partner, Chat Noir?” she asked, and he felt himself smile.

“I might’ve heard a thing or two about him,” he said, and her lips twitched up into a smile before it faded.

“When we first met, he was absolutely terrible at flying,” she said, and Adrien raised his eyebrows. She’d never told him that before. “He was like a toddler,” she said, and Adrien bit back a retort. She didn’t seem to notice. “He was all crash landings and giddy laughter, like he was doing it all for the first time. And his wings…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“His wings?” Adrien prompted, and she let out a small sigh.

“Well, they looked like yours. Damaged. Raw.” She shook her head again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “At first I thought that was just what the miraculous did to him for his disguise, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought that maybe… That maybe outside of the mask, he probably didn’t fly.”

She paused, and Adrien ached.

“I asked him once, if it hurt,” she said softly. “He told me it didn’t. Not then. Not with the magic.”

He remembered. Remembered the way her expression broke.

“Chat gets to fly - during fights, yes - but still. He gets to fly. Without pain.” She turned her eyes to him, and he saw all the weight of the world there in her eyes. “I saw your wings, when you rescued me, and it reminded me of him. And the more I thought about it, the more I thought…” She trailed off, letting out something that might’ve been a laugh. “Sorry, it’s silly.”

“Please,” Adrien said, voice breaking of its own accord, “tell me.”

“I just thought,” she started, eyes finding his again, “that if I couldn’t help him, then I might be able to help you.”

And, like, Adrien was no stranger to the rush of emotion in his chest; of course he wasn’t. But he always chose not to act on it most days because he was always afraid - afraid of losing her. 

He leaned in.

This was a bad idea. 

She leaned in, too.

But sometimes.

Well.

Sometimes it was perfectly understandable to act on a bad idea, wasn’t it? It’s not like he could be blamed for doing so, not when she was in front of him, soft and vulnerable, powerful and beautiful. She’d given him more than he could ever have asked for, and she’d done it simply because she cared. 

This was a bad idea, but that was alright. 

Their lips met.

It was a gentle, fragile thing - their kiss. It was soft and it was hesitant, and Adrien hoped even as he didn’t that she could feel how much she meant to him. His hand reached up, and he cradled her cheek, thumb tracing along the edge of her mask. She let out a small sigh against his mouth, pushing closer.

He felt, almost, like she was trying to tell him something. Something important.

And then she pulled away, blue eyes heavy on him. She stood, and she cupped his face in her hands, something sad and indecipherable travelling across her face. She rubbed her thumbs along his cheeks, and he reached up, holding on to her wrists, loosely. He wanted her to stay. He knew she had to go.

She brushed the hair away from his forehead, and she pressed a kiss there, soft and caring. “Sweet dreams, Adrien,” she whispered against his skin, and he closed his eyes. Her hands left him, and he mourned the loss. “Spread your wings a little bit for me, okay?”

His eyes flew open, but she was already gone, his window open and welcoming in the cold night air. 

He ran to the window, leaning out and letting the wintry air bite at his cheeks as he stared after her silhouette.

“Marinette,” he whispered.

He was probably wrong.

But he didn’t feel wrong.

He felt - awfully, terribly, wonderfully - right.

---

Marinette spent the next few days thinking about mint and spice.

It’s what Chat always smelled like - not that she’d, like, made an active effort to notice. It was just that in the heat of a battle, he’d catch her or she’d catch him or they’d be huddled close and she would smell it. Mint and spice. That was what Chat smelled like.

It was also what Adrien’s room smelled like.

What Adrien himself had smelled like - when he’d caught her, falling mid-air. When he’d kissed her, sweet and gentle.

Against her better judgement, Marinette was having thoughts. And feelings.

A whole lot of feelings.

So when Adrien showed up at the bakery, wearing the soft red sweater she’d given him for Morpheusmus, Marinette had done what any rational person would do.

She sprinted out the back door of the bakery.

Was it the best possible thing she could do in that situation? No, absolutely not. She knew that. And that was fine.

She was speeding toward an end, an end she wasn’t quite sure if she would like, so she squeezed her eyes shut and pretended that she was alright with free-falling just so she wouldn’t have to look down at the fast approaching ground.

“Marinette!”

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked up at the sky, following the sound of her name. It was Adrien, above her, beautiful frame backlit by the bright winter sky. His wings looked better - still a little raw, but better.

Marinette considered running.

Adrien landed in front of her, graceful and intentional, and his eyes searched her. “Why did you run away?”

“Bug,” Marinette answered immediately, her mouth providing her with a lie. “On the cash register. A bug.”

He tilted his head at her, stepping closer, slowly, carefully, like she was a flighty bird. 

Which.

Yeah.

“You mean it wasn’t because of me?”

So that was super rude of him, to look so honest. 

Marinette let out a strained sound from the back of her throat, throwing her hands up into the air and turning away from him.

“It’s because of the- the Daedalus-damned mint!” she exclaimed, whirling around to face him again. He had a confused sort of smile on his face. “And the- the stupid spice! And your wings, a little bit- no, a lot a bit. It’s all so much- which is. Which is absolutely-” She cut herself off with a frustrated groan, shaking her head and meeting his gaze.

His eyes were so green. His hair so gold, the strands wind-blown and familiar.

“It’s all just so much like him,” she said, her voice breaking into quiet.

Something in his expression cracked open, and he smiled, bright and honest as the sun. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it!” He laughed as he said it, throwing his arms around her and pulling her close.

“Adrien-”

“You said the same thing that night,” he said, pulling away and holding her by the shoulders, grin wild. “‘Spread your wings a little bit for me.’ I didn’t want to hope I was right.”

She felt like she was falling.

She felt like she was flying.

“You know,” she said, and he nodded, excited.

“And you know, too,” he said, “don’t you?” And she realized that she did. She’d known for a while.

“Oh, Icarus save me,” she breathed, and then she grabbed Adrien - Chat Noir, her partner, her best friend - by the collar of the soft red sweater she’d made for him, and she kissed him hard. 

And he kissed her back, just as hard. She could feel his smile, pressed up close to her mouth, and she laughed, breathing in the wonderfully familiar mint and spice.

---

Looking at this rationally, Adrien was absolutely certain this was a bad idea. His father wasn’t going to be happy about him getting a girlfriend, let alone getting a girlfriend that cuts up all the new bindings he buys with a gleam in her eyes that is, quite honestly, downright terrifying. 

However, Adrien didn’t like being rational. He did like this bad idea, though, and all it was speeding toward.

And Marinette felt far from a bad idea, she felt like soft feathers and softer kisses, gentle smiles and quick laughs. She felt like everything absolutely and totally right, and he couldn’t exactly fault himself for falling - flying toward her.

It was only natural. 

That much, at least, he was sure of.

=

hey apple i hope you loved this as much as i loved writing it (can you tell i got carried away a little bit? because i did. i totally did) and i hope anyone else reading this enjoys at least one sentence. it doesn’t really matter which one

happy holidays everyone!! i hope you’re able to spend this winter, no matter what you celebrate, safe and happy and surrouned by things you love

thank you so much for reading<3<3<3

[atlafan]

Jordan I have an idea... what if college Harry wants y/n to be his model so he can practice his nude drawing or painting?!? 😉😘😘 and maybe they get caught?!?

a/n: okay, okay, okay, I got inspired by something else so I’m tweaking this a bit, but let’s goooooo. This just ended up being a quick fluff, I’ll put smut in the next blurb! 

Lock the Door - Blurb One - Harry Ran Out  of Canvas

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Harry groans while he searches under his bed. 

Y/N had her headphones and was studying on her own bed. She pauses her music when she notices his clear frustration. 

“What’s wrong, Harry?”

“I’m all out of canvas, and I’m supposed to paint something for class tomorrow...it’s late and all of the stores are closed. Shit, how did I not notice? Now I’m gonna have to go down to the fucking studio and it’s freezing out, and-”

“Slow down, what do you need to paint? Couldn’t you just use paper?”

“No, that’ll just get messy.” He sighs. “Fuck, I don’t have time for this!” He looks at you and squints. 

“What?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Harry.” She scoffs. “I don’t think now’s the time to-”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I have to paint this scene of like a field or some shit. I can throw some tarp on the floor and you can lay down on it. Let me paint your back. Then I can just take a picture of it and show my professor. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it, she’ll admire the creativity or some shit.”

“Why did you wait to do this until the last minute?” She asks, already taking her shirt off. Harry blushes and clears his throat. 

“Because I’m an idiot, okay?” 

Harry lays a tarp on the floor and gets his paints out. He gently sits on Y/N’s bottom while he begins to make strokes with the brushes. She shivers underneath him. 

“Sorry...paint’s a little cold.” 

“Just a little.” She giggles. “Feels kinda nice though...” 

“Shh, if you talk you could move and mess it up. Just relax, alright?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Thanks for doin’ this, I owe you.” He leans down quick to kiss her cheek. 

“I think I know how you can make it up to me later.” She turns to look up at him, and he shoves her face back down, making them both laugh. 

Harry dips his brush in a new color and continues making gentle, yet precise strokes on her back. 

//

Liv and Chris were hanging out in the living area doing some homework. Liv’s stomach growls. 

“Was that you?” He laughs.

“Think so. I’m starving, I didn’t eat much today.”

“Not many places are open right now, but I bet we could order a pizza from Keith’s.”

“Oh! Good idea, baby. I think Y/N and Harry are still up, let me just ask them if they want in before we order anything.”

“Sounds good. They’ve been spending a lot of time together, huh?”

“Yeah, they’ve gotten really close. I guess they cuddle platonically sometimes.” 

“Aw, that’s cute.” 

Liv goes up, and then up again to the few steps that lead to Harry and Y/N’s room. Their door was open, so she goes right up. 

“Hey guys, Chris and I are gonna order a pizza, do you want...” She stops short when she sees the scene in front of her. “Uhhhhhh...”

“I ran out of canvas.” Harry says bluntly. “This was the next best thing.” 

“Okay.”  She swallows hard.

“Pizza would be great, Liv. I’m actually pretty hungry.” Y/N says.

“Oi, I said no talkin’, I’m almost done.” He scolds her and looks at Liv. “Yeah, order some pizza. I’ll give you some money later.”

“Alright...I’ll just go do that...” Liv practically sprints back down to Chris. “Oh my god.”

“What? Do they not want pizza?”

“No they do.”

“Cool, I’ll order online. Their delivery is faster that way.” 

“I think something more is going on between them.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Y/N was laying on the floor topless, while Harry was sitting on her painting on her back. He said he ran out of canvas or something, so maybe it’s for a class, but isn’t that a little weird to do with someone?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I mean they’ve clearly gotten close and comfortable with each other. Maybe it’s no big deal.”

“Either way it wouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, say they were hooking up or something, I don’t think you or I would care. I don’t want them to think they need to sneak around.” 

“Well, if something more is happening, maybe they’re just trying to figure it out before they start telling a bunch of people. You and I probably aren’t a factor in all that, Liv.”

//

“Done! Okay, let me just take a few pictures.”

Harry gets off of Y/N to grab his phone. He snaps a few shots, close enough that one couldn’t really tell whose back it was he painted on. He crouches down next to her.

“Look, it came out pretty cool.” She smiles at the photos and then at him.

“It’s a shame to wash it all off.”

“It’s okay. My professor will either accept this or have me paint it again on canvas.”

“Will you paint it either way? It’s really pretty.”

“Sure, when I have a little bit of time I could try to recreate it. Gimme your hands, I’ll help you up.” 

Once Y/N is on her feet she looks over her shoulder in the mirror.

“This is really cool, Harry.”

“Thanks.” He blushes. “You know...” He circles around her. “For one of my finals we have to sketch a live nude, and I could use some practice.”

“Oh no, no way. This was plenty.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“I wouldn’t draw your face, come on, it would really help me out.”

“Mhm, and how come I always seem to be helping you out. What do I get in return?”

“Multiple orgasms.” He smirks.

“Oh, right.” She giggles. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Fair enough. Come on, grab a bathing suit or somethin’, and I’ll you rinse all this off. S’not good to have that on your skin for very long.”

“I can just shower alone.”

“But you might not get it all off.” 

“You can’t fuck me in the shower with them home, Harry.”

“Not where my head was at, but I like that that’s where yours went.” He smiles.

She rolls her eyes and grabs a bathing suit top from her dresser, and a bottom. Harry watches as she wiggles into the swim shorts and they both head downstairs. 

“Do you guys wanna see what Harry did to my back before he washes it off?” Y/N asks Liv and Chris brightly. 

She turns around and they both gasp.

“That’s so cool!” Liv says. “The detail you were still able to get is awesome.”

“Yeah, you’re really talented.” Chris says. 

“Okay, okay.” He blushes. “When’s the pizza gettin’ here?”

“Should be any minute.” Chris says.

He nods and leads you into the bathroom. Liv and Chris can hear them giggling while Harry washes the paint off. Later on they all settle in with the pizza. 

“How was the free skate the other night?” Chris asks, making Harry almost choke on his pizza. “Liv and I were thinking of going this Saturday, was it worth it?”

“Yeah! We had a lot of fun. It wasn’t too crowded, and they played music.”

“And Y/N fell on her arse a few times, which was pretty funny.” Harry says and she nudges him. “I would definitely recommend going.” 

“Maybe the four of us could go.” Liv says.

“Definitely, that would be a lot of fun.” Y/N says.

//

“Y/N, Y/N!” Harry barrels up the stairs to their room. 

She was laying on her stomach on her bed, doing some reading for class, legs bent and feet swaying to her music. 

“Y/N!” 

“Jesus!” She takes her earbuds out and sits up. “You scared me, what is it?”

“I got an A on my painting, the one you helped me with. My professor wasn’t even mad that she didn’t have a physical piece. She said it was very resourceful or some shit. Either way, I got an A.” He hugs her and kisses her a few times.

“I’m so happy for you!” She giggles. “We should celebrate.”

“I agree.”

“Go lock the door.” 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part One: Should Have Known Better

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Hello everyone, and welcome to my latest indulgence. This tale will run parallel to the show, picking up between episode three [The Sin] and episode four [Sanctuary], so spoiler warnings for all portions!

Our story begins a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...on Nevarro, to be specific. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel

[And here is the playlist for this (now completed) series! Be warned that this post does contain spoilers for all chapters of Stay Safe, so if you would rather just have the playlist without additional exposition or breakdown, you can find it here!]

The ship was filthy. 

Whoever the pilot was had clearly gone bellying in a mudflat. Dried grime was spattered as far up as the cockpit! You wiped the sweat off your forehead, squinting in the brilliant sunlight. 

She had the potential to shine, you decided, and in your current line of work, that was really what mattered. "I'll get it done." You said aloud. 

"You will? Excellent!" The person hellbent on hiring you pressed a small, yet strangely-weighty bundle of cloth into your hands. "Your payment. The other half will be delivered upon completion." They said, voice muffled through their thick cowling. You waved off their promise, absently giving them the usual 'the work is its own reward' rigmarole as you made a mental list of what you would need to pick up from your tools. 

A few panels looked dented and carbon-scored underneath all the mud; this puddlejumper had clearly seen some kind of action. Not too surprising, what with the Empire getting upended. Skirmishes were all too common in the brave new world, where the tenuous New Republic sought to bring peace to a galaxy full of warlords and criminals.

In hindsight, you probably should have checked what you were being paid with. You might have saved yourself a lot of trouble.

Instead, you launched yourself headfirst into sweeping the crusted muck off the cockpit shielding and scrubbing as high as you could reach on the grungy fuselage. Clients sometimes got antsy about you traipsing around on top of their fancy vessels with your sturdy boots, so you always did your best to be expedient when brushing off the sand and grime. 

Once the brunt of the outside work had been done, you went and punched in the code you had been given to open the hatch.

Nothing happened.

You pulled your notebook and tiny charcoal stub from your side pouch, running your eyes down the line of old codes from previous jobs. No, that had been correct. How bizarre! What if the owner had changed it and forgotten? 

You grimaced at the keypad. You hated leaving a job half-finished. Maybe you could guess it? It would be a fair bit easier than trying to locate the owner, and you didn't want them returning to find you twiddling your thumbs.

To your surprise, it only took six tries at the combination before the boarding ramp extended with a throaty hiss. Your grin of triumph at your own cleverness was woefully short-lived as the thunder of approaching footsteps alerted you to the fact that you were no longer alone. You went to turn and see who was coming, barely glimpsing the bundle that was your payment flying at your face with purpose. 

Metal, you realized dimly before consciousness deserted you.

…

You awoke to a boot in your ribs and you coughed, gasping for air. The bundle was clutched to your chest tightly. How had you picked it up? The last thing you remembered was getting clobbered with it. Why would your attacker leave you with your payment?

You opened your eyes sluggishly, realizing even in your barely-coherent state that you were in the hold of that ship you had been cleaning. "Wonderful." You groaned. Your whole body felt bruised. This wasn't exactly your first time being Shanghaied, but it definitely was up there on the list of 'experiences that don't bear repeating'.

Now, to find out who owned the boot that had so graciously awoken you from your slumber. You struggled to roll over, still keeping a hand on the heavy bundle. As you moved to stand, however, the cloth that made up the bundle began to unwind. You clumsily fought to catch the edges to no avail, fumbling the whole thing until it ended up dropping to the floor with a resounding clack!. Whatever was inside it was clearly metallic, but you already knew that from how sore your face was. 

Any further musing on what it could be took a back seat to the disruptor rifle suddenly inches away from your face. 

"Wait!" You yelped, your hands raised over your head.

The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, the pronged rifle barrel trained between your eyes. You had never seen a Mandalorian so close before, but right now was hardly the time to dwell on the magnanimous rarity of the occasion!

"Oh, oh please wait. I...this is all a huge mistake. Please don't shoot me." They didn't move and you took that as your cue to start trying to get yourself out of this mess. "I've been working this port all cycle, I was hired to clean thi-"

"Not by me, you weren't." A male voice, clipped and irritated but distinctly human even through the doubled-back modulator on that helmet. "Continue."

"I…" You were at a bit of a loss. You had been hoping, albeit vainly, that it was a droid under all the beskar. You might have been able to reason with a droid. "W-Well, I…"

"Five seconds." The rifle clicked loudly and you flinched, closing your eyes. 

"Okay, okayokayokay, I was h-hired. At the port." You rushed to explain, tripping over your words in your haste. "I didn't get a good look at him, he was all wrapped up like everyone else. He showed me this ship and I told him I would absolutely do it. I was p-promised two-part payment, half now and half on completion." 

You swallowed hard, daring to squint open your eyes. The Mandalorian hadn't moved a muscle, that T-shaped visor alone keeping you pinned with its unfriendly glare. 

"Um, I went to open the hatch once I got done with the hull and it, uh, wouldn't open," you stuttered. "Th-The man who hired me gave me the wrong code. So I tried a bunch of different ones."

A heavy sigh issued from the helmet. "Until you got the right one."

"Yes." You pointed down to the analog flight notebook hanging out of your hip pouch. "I've never been good at remembering codes. But the next thing I knew, I was attacked from behind!"

"Karga must have been waiting for you to get the door open." The Mandalorian muttered, lowering his rifle slightly. "Doesn't explain the beskar, though."

"Beskar?" You repeated.

He gestured downward and you followed his hand to the formerly wrapped bundle, now revealed to be a single ingot of beskar. The Imperial crest stamped into it gave you pause, the symbol by itself enough to make you uneasy.

"It was my...p-payment." You suddenly felt tiny. Everything you had heard about Mandalorians pointed towards them being an incredibly stoic and honor-bound society. Their beskar armor was revered, practically sacred; attempting to remove a Mandalorian's helm by force was akin to asking for death. Who knew where this beskar had even come from?!

You were in deep trouble.

A breath chuffed out of him and he carefully scooped the metal up off the floor, brushing away a tiny bit of grime. "Not anymore, it's not." He growled, re-wrapping the ingot in the cloth. You bowed your head in acquiescence, startled when two leather-clad fingers tilted your chin back up. "Your nose," He began, his thumb scrubbing at something crusted above your upper lip, "it's bloody."

"I remember getting whacked with that right after I opened the hatch." You grimaced. "Is it bad? It's probably pretty bad." 

"It's not great." Your attention was abruptly drawn to the side when you heard a soft cooing noise. A blaster barrel replaced his fingers under your chin even as you moved. "I wouldn't try anything." He warned.

"I'm not, I'm not." You whispered in reply, your whole body shaking. Gods, he was fast. Even with you just shifting on instinct alone, he easily outpaced you. "I heard-"

"I know what you heard." He spat. "As much as I'd love to throw you out the airlock, I'm sure I'd get more for you alive somewhere else."

For the first time, you noticed the sound of the FTL engines humming. Oh. He had taken off while you were unconscious. Honestly, you had probably been a nasty shock for him when he came across you all curled up in the cargo bay.

That soft noise caught your ear again, but this time you forced yourself not to move. The Mandalorian exhaled after a moment, taking a step back and holstering his blaster. "What I want to know is," He paused, like he was mentally mulling something over while he weighed the slab of beskar in his palm. "Are you any good with younglings?"

You stared up at his visor blankly. All the other stories you'd heard about Mandalorians, the seedier ones, came rushing to the forefront of your mind, leaving you a little flushed in the face. "I...I'm not too bad? I've got none of my own, b-b-but it's not like I have an issue with them?" Your reply was half a question in and of itself. 

"Good. Your job is to manage the child until I can find someplace to deal with you."

"'Deal with me'?" You squeaked. "I'd really like to go back to Nevarro, if it's all the same to you."

"You stowed away on my ship. Inadvertently or not, that's a crime I don't take lightly."

"Wait, b-but--" A reedy cry cut you off and you finally saw what was making all the noise. "Oh." You breathed.  

It was definitely a baby. A baby what, you had no clue. But a baby all the same. It was tiny, sporting enormous ears that dwarfed its green body. Huge black eyes shone in the dim light of the hold, and a minute hand with three fingers stretched out towards the Mandalorian from the comfort of its bassinet.

"I trust there won't be any problems?" The beskar-clad man across from you asked, seeming a little bemused by how quiet you had gone.

"What's their name? What do they eat? They're so small, I've never seen anything like it!" You babbled nervously, barely able to fight back the primal urge to pinch their cheeks.

"No name. It'll eat damn near anything. I've seen it eat live mudjumpers whole." The Mandalorian replied shortly. "Doesn't seem to eat regularly, though. Might be boredom motivated." The armored individual waited a beat before speaking again, the strap securing his blaster making a loud snap in the stillness he created, "Anything happens to it, I kill you. Understand?"

"Ab...absolutely." You nodded jerkily, wincing when your neck protested the motion.

"Good." He turned on his heel and pointed towards the alcove off to the side of the ladder. "Refresher is there. You do anything I don't like and you're getting slabbed. Full carbon treatment." He informed you brusquely. "You're not quarry yet. Don't make yourself quarry."

"Got it. Th-Thanks for not vaporizing me on sight. I'm sorry about," You gestured helplessly around you, "all of this."

"An apology from you means nothing to me." He informed you, not unkindly. "I'd rather learn who the person that hired you was, and why they were paying you in Imperial beskar."

"I had no idea what it actually was. I was so excited to get started, I didn't even look at it." You confessed. "For all I knew it could have been a rock."

"You're not particularly bright, are you?"

"I like what I do." You retorted before you could think twice about it.

He stayed by the ladder for a moment, and then stalked back towards you. You braced yourself, waiting to get blown to smithereens. Instead, he stopped a good two feet away and barked, "hand over your tools."

"M-My--"

"Tools. Any weapons. Drop them." His voice came out as a modulated snarl. "Now." Shakily you undid the heavy buckle at your waist, then struggled out of your shoulder straps and dropped the whole belt on the deck. You hesitated a second, something that he absolutely noticed. "Do I have to slab you or are you going to cooperate?" He inquired.

Your last ounce of bravery went out the hold at his threat and you hurried to unstrap the sheath attached to the inside of your calf under your pants. "Hang on, I just-" You plopped down on the floor, shoving your pants leg up around your knee. "Shit, c'mon please." You begged under your breath, tears pricking your eyes while the buckles refused to budge. "I'm sorry, I swear I'm trying-"

"Stop." 

You froze, watching out of your periphery as he crouched in front of you. Gloved hands miles more dexterous than your own made quick work of the sheath buckles. He was close enough for you to see your terrified reflection in his helmet, warped by the contours it bore.

"Breathe." He reminded you. "I haven't slabbed you yet. Don't give me a reason to and you'll be fine."

"Right, right." You choked. 

The blade came loose with one sharp tug and you heard him whistle. "What in the hell is someone like you doing with a knife this mean?" He asked incredulously, testing the heft of the nearly cleaver-sized weapon.

"I traded some rocks for it." You whispered. 

He huffed out a breath in what might have been an expression of mirth, rising to his full height to give the knife a practice swing. It sang as he ripped it through the air, a testament to his substantial strength. "Not sharp?" He sounded curious.

"It's for crushing." 

He twisted his wrist back and forth, lazily twirling the knife by the handle. "You'd rather maim than kill?"

"I'm not smart enough to make good use of a sharp blade." You recited the phrase you had heard aimed at you so often in your youth. He paused in his motions with the knife, his helmet visor slowly turning towards you as you continued. "It's too easy to get comfortable with hurting if you have a weapon that doesn't take any thought to use. Like a sharp knife or...or a quick blaster." Or a disruptor rifle, you added mentally.

He dropped back into a crouch in front of you, effortlessly balancing his weight on his heels. You swallowed hard, still unnerved by the proximity of a real, honest-to-gods Mandalorian. You had seen a few of them in your travels, but never up close and you had certainly never spoken with any of them. Their armor alone exuded a certain air that tended to dissuade attempts at conversation.

"Wise words." With a strange amount of care, the armored man replaced your knife in its sheath. "I'll hang onto it for right now. Don't try anything stupid and you might get it back." He muttered. Despite the featureless void of his visor, you got the impression that he was studying you intently. "Take care of the kid." A rag was thrust at your face. "Wash the blood off from under your nose."

…

Honestly, it was a relatively easy gig.

You quickly discovered that the child liked it when you sang, even if it was just nonsense words and babble. You made up a song on the spot about the dewback that jumped over the blue milk moon, sitting on the floor and serenading the giggly being while you cleaned yourself up with the warm rag.

They appeared to be maybe toddler age, just getting to the point where they were learning by putting everything in their mouth. You lost track of how many objects you eased away from them, finally resorting to relocating the hazards into an empty cargo net overhead.

There was one thing in particular that they seemed to love, a silver ball with a threaded hole in it. They rolled it back and forth on the deck, squealing excitedly when you got involved in their little game of fetch. At least they didn't seem keen on putting it into their mouth, thank the Maker for small favors.

You knew enough time had passed that you should be hungry, but the idea of asking for anything made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The child only ate when they were bored, right? Maybe you ought to adopt the same schedule.

Your mind wandered back to the Mandalorian as you engaged the tyke in a rousing game of peekaboo, their explosive giggles making you smile in spite of your lingering aches and pains. How had someone like him come across this baby? If he was a bounty hunter, as the empty carbonite slab hangers overhead would indicate, what was he doing with such a small child? 

"Well," you said aloud, "it's not as if kids are just convenient things that drop out of the sky when you're ready for them." You clapped your hands and the child mimicked you, bouncing a little. You set into a barely-remembered song from when you yourself had been quite young, "Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you'..."

Your father had often sang while he cooked meals, pausing occasionally to throw you a grin. You imagined it must have made your parents' toil-filled days of farming a little more bearable. You vaguely recalled the sound of their voices, but the years between their deaths and the present day stretched long. All you had left now were half-impressions of your mother's fond smile and your father's songs, fleeting and bittersweet. 

You blinked away the memories when you felt the touch of a small hand on your sleeve, looking down at the child. They chirped at you, tilting their head to the side. "Hello, little one." You whispered, noting that their enormous eyes were half-lidded. "Are you sleepy?" They yawned in reply, making you smile slightly. It was almost as if they understood what you were saying! "Alright, let's go to sleep." 

After checking to make sure that they were still dry, you tucked them into their cradle. Then, you tugged the bassinet over behind a stack of crates, proceeding to curl up on the floor in your cloak. You kept one hand draped over the side of the cradle, smiling blearily when you felt tiny fingers take hold of your index. 

You had never had any issues sleeping in an unfamiliar environment and despite your rumbling stomach, tonight was no exception. You were exhausted and sore from the day's events and you were more than ready to put it all behind you.

…

Something was nudging your side. 

You frowned, flailing an arm out of the warm cocoon you had created with your cloak. The back of your hand hit steel, and then your palm landed on what seemed to be a boot upper. "Five minutes." You murmured, patting the leather and trying to recall where you were without opening your eyes.

"Get up." 

The ship detail. Getting hit with the beskar. Mandalorian. The child-

You thrashed your legs out of your cloak, suddenly more awake than you had ever been in your life. "Where is the baby?" You asked frantically, "I'm sorry, I-I just-"

"The kid is over there." The Mandalorian jerked his helmet to the side, indicating the cradle. "Still sleeping." He took hold of your elbow, pulling you upright. "Come on."

You straightened out your tunic and followed his silent form up the ladder to the cockpit, your heart pounding in your throat. You wrapped your cape tightly around you, your shivering having nothing to do with the temperature. Through the clear shielding you glimpsed the sight of tall coniferous trees, gray-green in the light of dawn. How long had you slept for?

He settled into the pilot seat, swiveling it backwards to face you after a moment. "Sit." He gestured behind you to one of the co-pilot chairs.

You did so, trying your hardest to hide how much you were trembling. He wouldn't kill you right now, would he? No, not in the cockpit. There would be blood everywhere-

"Hey!" The Mandalorian barked, gloved fingers waving in front of your eyes. "Focus. Are you cold?"

"N-No, not at all." You denied through chattering teeth, your back aching with the strain of holding yourself still. 

"Then why the hell are you shaking?"

"I'm terrified." You admitted bluntly. 

"Oh." He was silent for several moments, letting you panic inwardly. "Well, knock it off." He muttered gruffly. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

"You...you're not?" 

"No." You went nearly boneless at his exasperated grunt, feeling as though you had just run a marathon. "You're good with the kid. It's been quiet. No one trying to pilfer any of the shiny things I have to fly with, or touching important switches." 

"Glad to be of service." You replied weakly. 

"Don't make me change my mind." He growled, jabbing a finger at your face. "If I find out you were planted on here by the Guild to double cross me, I won't hesitate to blow a hole in your sternum. Do we understand each other, stowaway?" 

"Y-You drive a hard bargain." You squeaked, bunching your fists in your tunic. His hand remained extended and after a moment he impatiently jerked his chin down at it. "Oh!" You tried to subtly wipe your sweaty palm off on your thigh before you accepted the handshake, nodding stiffly. 

"If I double cross you, you can feel free to take your mean little knife and crush my ribcage with it." The Mandalorian rotated his wrist, the movement fluid and nonchalant. "Turn and turn alike." 

"I think you might have an unfair advantage. That knife is no match for beskar." You pointed out, almost delirious with relief.

"It's not about the tool, it's about how you utilize it." 

Your empty stomach suddenly decided to make itself heard, growling deafeningly loud. You flushed, wrapping your arms around your midsection.

"Stars, was that a Corellian hound?" The bounty hunter tossed a small pouch your way, the bag landing in your lap with a quiet crinkle. "Eat the rest of that. Today, we look for lodging." He ordered.

Your question of whether he would possibly consider returning you to Nevarro died in your throat and you bit your lip, struggling with the seal on the bag.

The jerky-like substance, traditionally made from the tough, bitter pulp of hubba gourds, served to take the hard edge off of your hunger and give your mouth something to do while the Mandalorian did his pre-departure walkthrough.

He halted by the now-full cargo net loaded with the flotsam and jetsam from the floor of the hold and turned to look at you, his head tilted slightly in question. 

"Baby wanted to mouth things, so I had to put them out of reach." You elaborated after swallowing.

"Little womp rat." The armored man grumbled, sounding strangely fond. The womp rat in question babbled from their crib, their arms outstretched in the universal sign for pick me up! The Mandalorian ignored them, continuing his sweep. 

He finally nodded, appearing satisfied with the state of things. You moved to scoop the child out of their crib, only to get stopped in your tracks by a very familiar knife sheath hitting your chest.

"Weapons on before we leave the ship." The Mandalorian muttered. "Remember our agreement. You can have your tools later if you prove yourself trustworthy." 

You took the knife back, wordlessly strapping the sheath to your calf once more. The weight was an immense comfort and you felt your nervous energy still for a brief moment. "Okay." You breathed, clenching your fists and then shaking out your tense shoulders.

The Mandalorian nodded towards the child. "Let him walk. He needs to use his legs."

While the boarding ramp hydraulics hissed and creaked, you dug around in your side pouch. You didn't have much in the way of actual credits, normally you accepted trades of goods or food. "Here, I...um, for when we get lodging." The seven credits looked pitiful even to your eyes, so you could only imagine what this obviously-successful bounty hunter must think of them. 

He waved you off, one gloved hand closing your fingers securely around the meager fistful. "Save them for a rainy season, stowaway." 

"B-But-"

"We still don't even know whether we will find lodgings here," He reminded you. "Hang onto them." 

"I'm not going to just scab off of you." You protested as he walked down the ramp. "I can work, I know ships inside and out and I can-"

"We can discuss it later." He said over his shoulder, the words muffled by his cape, "once I've decided you're worth the trouble."

You huffed out an annoyed breath, jamming the credits back into your pouch. "Oh of course, wouldn't want to trouble you with bringing me back to fucking Nevarro." You muttered. The child squealed, tugging on your pants leg and pointing towards the forest. "Yeah, we'd better get a move on." You agreed quietly. 

With mindfully-shortened steps, you set off to follow the armored man. At least he was shiny enough to be spotted easily in the sun-dappled forest.

Part Two

[wwitbeyondmeasure]

Summer at the Burrow / r.w. fan fiction

Previous Chapters

Introduction / Author’s Note / Chapter 1: The Journey to the Burrow / Chapter 2: Hidden Letters / Chapter 3: Ron’s Return / Chapter 4: Nighttime Conversations / Chapter 5: A Morning Surprise / Chapter 6: The Quidditch Match / Chapter 7: Girl Talk / Chapter 8: Aphrodite’s Push / Chapter 9: Mistakes and Love Potions

Chapter 10: You Would be Fine

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Thank you so much for all the love and support for this fic, it means so much to me :) Get prepared because this chapter is a lengthy one (about 4,200 words I think...oops). Also, the gif has nothing to do with the chapter I just thought Ron looked really cute lol. Okay anyways enjoy!!!

You were fine. Really you were.

Every time Hermione or Ginny gave you a concerned look while passing, you could easily plaster on an "I'm-good-everything-is-good-thanks-for-asking" smile onto your face.

In reality though, your heart hurt ever damn day.

About 2 weeks ago, Ron broke your heart. Under the oak tree outside, he told you that whatever happened between you was a mistake. Mistake. So instead of moping around for the rest of your summer vacation, you tried to be happy. During the day time you would laugh and joke with the Weasleys, help make meals, finish your school work, and do chores. But at night is when you finally let yourself feel your heartbreak. Once everyone fell asleep, you would creep down the stairs and sit underneath the oak tree, and cry.

It was therapeutic, kind of. With each passing night, you felt better. Yes, it still hurt seeing Ron's freckled face every morning at breakfast. And it still made your skin and body ache when he accidentally brushed up next to you in the tight kitchen. But you were okay.

You knew that if you let Ron fully see how heartbroken you were, it would change the dynamic between you. You were best friends, and nothing more. No matter how much you loved him, that's all you would ever be. Instead of jeopardizing the friendship you had come to cherish so greatly, you simply suppressed your love for Ron so you could maintain it. And it was working, king of.

The night after your heartbreak at the oak tree, you started treating Ron exactly as you had before you came to the Burrow, before you had let your emotions run wild. He reciprocated this and before long, you were best friends again. You played Quidditch on each other's team, joked around with Fred and George, tried the newest Weasley Wizard Wheezes products (though you stayed away from the love potions), and played wizard's chess together. Although your heart still skipped a beat whenever Ron leaned closer to you, everything was back to normal with your best friend.

Over the past 2 weeks, you had been alternating between sleeping in Ginny's room for sleepovers, the bed in the attic, or the couch in the living room. Ron didn't offer his room to you again, which made you sad but you understood. If you were alone with him late at night when your emotions were high, your cover of "nope-i-don't-love-him-we-are-just-best-friends" was going out the window. So you stuck to your usual 3 beds.

That morning, you had awoken from the attic bed bright and early. Hermione had been getting the girls up at 8am for the past 2 weeks so that you could finish your school work early in the morning and have the rest of the day to relax. Although you hated her every morning for this, you were glad she had such a strict regimen because you had all finished your homework yesterday. Now, for the rest of the summer you were homework free.

By now you were so used to waking up early that it was no longer a surprise for anyone to see you help cook breakfast with Mrs Weasley. Besides Hermione, you two were usually the first awake and in the kitchen right away. This morning was no different as you padded down the creaky wooden steps into the kitchen.

"Good morning Mrs Weasley," you greeted her, tying an apron around your waist. There were four aprons in the Weasley house; a floral one designated for Mrs Weasley, a dark blue one for Mr Weasley when he would attempt to use a muggle grill, a plain white one for whoever decided to help cook, and a yellow one with stars for you. Mrs Weasley even spelled your name, y/n, on the edge in elegant cursive.

"For my newest child," she has said when she showed it to you. She pinched your cheeks, the way she did with all of her kids, and the action almost made you tear up. You threw your arms around her in a tight hug and thanked her profusely.

Mrs Weasley smiled approvingly at you as you started on the breakfast. As the usual morning rhythm took place, you cherished the routine of cracking the eggs, putting them in pans, flipping them, and then doing the same thing again and again.

But soon, Mrs Weasley's voice broke the silence. "Sweetheart, what happened with Ron?" she asked.

Your head snapped up from the frying pan, your eyes meeting Mrs Weasley's. She looked at you with motherly concern, and for some reason you couldn't look at her loving face and lie to her.

"I don't think he feels the same way that I do about him," you stated, turning your attention back to cooking.

Mrs Weasley huffed. "Well, my son has never been the sharpest boy, as you know," she said. You giggled, though you were still sad, and she smiled at you. "Maybe things will change honey," she told you, "love happens unexpectedly."

Before you got the chance to reply, thundering footsteps sounded from the staircase. You whipped your head around to see the twins barreling down the steps, practically tripping over one another in their hurry.

"Where's the fire?" you asked.

Fred ran across the room, picked you up around the waist, and spun you around.

"Percy's home! His work is called off for the week because of his birthday!" He shouted excitedly. You laughed, swatting at him with your spatula until he set you down.

"I didn't know you two were so excited to see your brother," Mrs Weasley noted, fixing her sons with a stern and skeptical stare.

"Oh mother, we're not," George replied.

"We're excited to mess with him for a week straight," Fred added with the largest grin you had ever seen.

As soon as the words left his mouth, more of a promise than anything else, the front door swung open and in entered the most prestigious Weasley of the house. With his rigorous work schedule, you hadn't seen Percy once this entire summer. But now, here he was, standing in the kitchen in a three piece suit with a pocket watch and shiny black shoes at 8 in the morning.

"Hi Percy," you said, trying your best not to laugh at the long tail of his suit coat.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Fred asked, his face shocked as he took in Percy's outfit. George's face was bright red as he held in his laughter.

"This," Percy said, unironically spinning so everyone could see his outfit, "Is traditional Muggle-wear. As I climb higher in the Ministry's success ladder, sometimes I have to encounter Muggles, so I must dress accordingly. This particular suit was a gift from one of my many clients."

He turned to you and you tried to wipe the teasing smile off your face. "Y/n, this is what muggles wear to their jobs, isn't it?" he asked.

You schooled your features into seriousness. "Oh yes," you responded, "definitely."

At that moment, Ron, Harry, Ginny, and Hermione stumbled down the stairs, looking like they had just woken up. Everyone stayed up late last night playing nighttime Quidditch (an especially difficult yet fun game considering the fact that you can't see the bludgers because of how dark it is).  

Ron froze when he saw Percy standing in the kitchen, his shoes so shiny they were reflecting the kitchen lights into the eyes of anyone who looked at them.

"Bloody hell, what happened to your clothes?" he asked incredulously. Him and Harry shared a look and then burst out in laughter.

Percy's ears turned pink at the tips as he huffed before sitting down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. You and Mrs Weasley decorated the center of the table with plate after plate of delicious warm breakfast food. Proud of your hard work, you took off your apron and sat down next to Percy.

Ron sat down next to you as the others joined the table.

"For your information, Ronald, your girlfriend says my clothes are the proper Muggle attire," Percy said, glaring at his little brother.

"She's not my girlfriend," Ron responded, his ears turning pink now too.

"How's Penelope?" you asked Percy before you could let yourself get too caught up in the fact that you really wanted Ron's response to that question to be different.

Percy smiled at the mention of his longtime girlfriend, who had been a Prefect at Hogwarts with him. "Oh she's fantastic," Percy said before launching into a long-winded story about Penelope's latest project she was working on at the ministry. Words such as "top-secret" "highly important" and "imperative job" floated past your ears.

Ron leaned closer to you and mumbled in your ear, "I wish you hadn't asked him that."

"Me too," you whispered back, giggling behind your hand.

As breakfast began, you were proud of all the compliments you received on your cooking. Waking up early to cook with Mrs Weasley was a part of the day you always looked forward too, and the compliments only made you feel better about it.

After everyone finished eating, and cleared their plates, chairs scraped against the wood of the floor as everyone prepared to go about their daily business.

"Wait!" Percy shouting, using his wand to spell everyone back into their chairs. "Nobody leave this table until we discuss my birthday party details."

Theses past few weeks your brain had been so focused on Ron that you had forgotten Percy's huge birthday party that was taking place at the Burrow next week. From the guilty expressions of everyone else around the table, you could tell they had forgotten too.

"I want this party to be perfect," Percy said. "My bosses are coming to this party, as is Penelope, so I will not tolerate any shenanigans." He fixed his eyes on the twins and gave them an icy glare. "I mean it, no funny business."

Fred and George saluted him, shouting "yes mother" before jumping out of their chairs and running to their room. A memory flashed in your head from the beginning of summer. The twins were showing you fireworks in their room, "special fireworks for Percy's party" they had said. There was definitely going to be some shenanigans taking place.

Increasingly interested about what kind of pranks the twins were going to pull on Percy, you excused yourself from the table and followed them upstairs. You were about to knock on their door before it swung open and Fred dragged you inside.

"Can I have a sneak peek?" you asked them giddily as soon as the door closed behind you. Apart from the twins, you were the most excited about their funny products and pranks they always pulled. You knew Percy's party wasn't going to disappoint.

Instead of reciprocating your excitement, the twins traded nervous glances.

"What is it?" you asked them. You felt a strange sense of deja vu to the time when they picked you up to drive you to the Burrow in the beginning of summer. They were hiding something from you then, and they were certainly hiding something from you now.

"So we take it you're not going to tell Ron about your unconditional love for him anytime soon?" George asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression on his face. Fred was ringing his hands nervously next to him.

"That is correct," you responded flatly.

"Well, you see," Fred began, "When we ordered these special fireworks for Percy's party, we assumed you two would be dating and in love by the time of the party. And the thing is, there's no refunds on the fireworks, so we kind of have to use them." He spoke so fast that the words were tumbling together in your head.

"Okay...what does that mean? What do the fireworks have to do with Ron and I?" you asked, getting increasingly more upset by the moment.

The twins must have sensed your anger because they traded a quick glance before assuring you "Okay, never mind, love, everything is under control," Fred promised.

"Yep, totally under control," George said, steering you out of the room. You didn't even register what they were saying before you were standing in the hallway.

"What aren't you telling me?" you asked, eyes narrowing into a glare at the twins.

They both gulped nervously.

"Don't worry about it, y/n, everything is fine. Percy's party will be full of lots of laughs and fun," Fred promised, before promptly shutting the door in your face. Once again, you got deja vu.

And with that, you left the twins room, feeling even more confused about your relationship with Ron than ever.

                                                                                              ...

The next week was frantic, hectic, and insane as you all scrambled to prepare for Percy's big party. Decorations needed to be made, food needed to be cooked, and you totally forgot to get Percy a present. After a day trip to Diagon Alley, you had returned home with a bag of more owl food for Dite and a magical watch for Percy. Despite all of the high energy and excitement in the house, the twins words still weighed on you. The party was quickly approaching and you had yet to "confess your unconditional love" to Ron. What would happen if you didn't? You didn't even want to think about it.

It was the night before Percy's party, and you were in the garden helping Bill string up lights around the outdoor tables. You and Bill had been spending a lot more time together over the past week. Bill had always opted to help you in whatever decoration or cooking you were tasked with for that day. Although you could tell that made Ron grumpy, you tried to ignore it. Your feelings were confusing enough without trying to unpack Ron's jealousy at the moment.

You wobbled on the chair you were standing on as you tied the last string of lights around the nearest tree branch. After you finished, you put your hands on your hips and took a look around the garden. It looked amazing. 10 tables were arranged in a neat circle around the yard, completed with white table clothes and centerpieces with Percy's photo in the middle. You bought a couple packs of muggle Christmas lights to hang from the trees to illuminate the area, which Mr Weasley was very happy about. He spent about 2 hours asking you about the mechanics behind muggle electricity.

There was a long table for the buffet to be served at and a short circular table for Percy's gifts to be placed on. At the corner of the garden the twins had set up a firing booth for the fireworks. To be totally honest, the decoration fit more for a wedding than a birthday party, but Percy wanted things to be perfect, so the family followed his decoration ideas to a tee.

While being distracted by observing your handiwork, you weren't really paying attention to what was happening behind you. This was unfortunate because Harry and Ron were practicing disarming charms right behind you.

"Y/n, look out!" you heard someone yell behind you. Whipping around towards the voice, you saw a red ball of sparks sailing towards you from the end of Harry's wand. How did Harry always manage to accidentally attack you?

You dove from your chair to avoid the sparks, and were fully expecting to land roughy in the grass. Instead, you felt strong arms wrap around you to prevent you from hitting the ground. You looked up to see none other than Bill Weasley as your knight in shining armour.

"Thanks," you said quietly.

Bill didn't let his arms drop from around you.

"Anytime," he replied with a grin. His arms were still wrapped around you when you heard angry footsteps marching towards you.

"Get your hands off her, you prat," you heard Ron's voice say. Bill's arms dropped from your sides as you both turned to face Ron.

"Calm down, Ron," Bill told him.

Ron glared at his older brother. "Stop flirting with her, she's my best friend," he said sternly.

Your heart hurt. You wanted Ron to be jealous because he liked you, not because you were just his best friend.

"He can flirt with me if he wants." The words were out of your mouth before you could even filter it.

Ron's gaze snapped towards you and you almost had to take a step back from their intensity.  "Do you want him to?" He asked you, his voice strained.

The answer was easy. No. You knew you didn't want Bill to flirt with you. He had been your first crush and he was beyond attractive, but he wasn't Ron. The only person you wanted was Ron. You said those words not because you wanted Bill, but because you wanted Ron to stop acting possessive if he didn't even love you back. It just hurt too much for him to act like your boyfriend if he was never going to be.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Bill said, mediating the situation. "I know you and y/n have something together, I shouldn't have overstepped. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

It won't happen again.

That's exactly what Ron told you after the night he had taken the love potion. The night that made you believe that maybe he did have the same feelings for you. But in the end, he regretted the moment that you had loved so much.

It won't happen again.

Tears crowded your vision and you tried your best to blink them away, you were not about to cry in front of him and show him just how much power he had over you and your emotions. But soon there were hot tears slipping down your cheeks and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Bill and Harry exchanged nervous glances as you and Ron just continued staring at each other. They both took a couple steps away to give you and Ron the space you needed to hash things out. Ron was breathing heavily, obviously still angry from the flirting between you and his brother. But you were angry too, angry that he didn't want you the way you wanted him.

"I don't want you flirting with my brother," he said, his intense gaze never leaving yours.

You rolled your eyes, "It's not your choice if I do."

Ron bristled at your comment, taking another step closer to you. You could practically feel the heat and anger radiating off of him.

"You know, you've really been pissing me off these past couple weeks," he said. "You prance around making breakfast in the mornings, but in reality all you're doing is trying to get with Bill. It's so fucking frustrating! I'm your best friend, we were supposed to be together every day you visited, but instead you found someone better to spend your time with."

God, he was thick.  You told him that.

"I'm not trying to get with Bill, you dumb git!" you shouted back. Why couldn't he see that he was the only one you wanted. Bill hadn't even crossed your mind this summer, your heart was too full of Ron as it is.

At this point, you were practically nose to nose with him, your shouting words bringing you closer and closer towards each other.

Ron mimicked you from earlier and rolled his eyes. It was beyond infuriating. You set your jaw and clenched your hands as you tried not to yell more.

"Oh of course you're not. You just spend every waking moment with him and barely hang out with me, but sure you're not trying to get with him," he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Now it was your turn to get angry. "Oh really? I'm the one to blame right now?" You shouted at him. The words were hot rolling off your tongue.

"You're the one who treats me so poorly! You cuddle me in your bed, and then run out the next morning. You almost kiss me and then act like it didn't happen! You told me what happened in your room was a mistake," the last sentence flew out of you, the anger just boiling and boiling up towards your breaking point.

Even though you knew it wouldn't do you any good, you kept talking. "Don't you dare try to put blame on me for this summer going to shit, because it's not my fault Ron! It's not my fault you're jealous of Bill, it's not my fault things aren't the same between us, and it's not my fault you don't love me back!"

Both of you froze as the words left your mouth. You wanted Ron to say something, needed him to say something, but he remained silent. You couldn't read his emotions and it was going to drive you crazy.

Ron stared at you, his eyes full to the brim with turbulent emotions that you couldn't read. All he did was shake his head.

"I don't want you with Bill," he finally said.

"You're not my boyfriend! You've made that perfectly clear!" You shouted back, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

Ron raked his hands through his messy hair, obvious frustrated. "If I were your boyfriend..." he started. "If I were your boyfriend... I wouldn't...." He glanced up at you and the words stopped forming at his mouth. You had tear streaks on your face and your eyes were still watery. The look of you must have shaken him too much for him to continue speaking.

"But you're fucking not! So stop acting like you are, because it hurts too much," you responded, all the fire gone from your argument. Instead it was replaced with a sad silence, the only sounds were the rustle in the tree branches and your occasional sniffle.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said, taking a step closer with his hand out to you, almost like he was thinking of reaching out to you.

You couldn't do this. You couldn't stay there, letting him reach out to touch you. It was clear he didn't love you back, so you couldn't stay and let him hold you when there wasn't any hope. You backed away from him, shaking your head as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

"You did. You do," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. If not for Ron's body suddenly becoming stiff, you would have thought he didn't hear you.

"Y/n, please..." he began, but no words followed. You shook your head again before turning and running back inside to the Burrow.

Nobody moved when you entered the dimly lit house. The family was sitting around the crackling fire, chatting with one another. But all talk stopped as soon as you entered.

Hastily wiping the tears from your eyes, you tried to make yourself presentable.

"Sweetheart," Mrs Weasley said with that loving tone of hers only a mother could have, "are you alright?"

You nodded, despite the fact that you knew none of them believed you.

"I'm just a little tired is all, I think I'm going to head up to bed," you said, before climbing the stairs as quickly as possible.

As soon as you entered your makeshift room in the attic, you slammed the door shut behind you. You couldn't even make it to the bed before you crumbled onto the ground, your back pressed against the door. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you buried your head in your arms and let yourself cry.

Sobs racked your body as you replayed the conversation from outside. Ron didn't want you. He didn't love you back. He was angry and jealous, but he still didn't love you back.

You stayed there, pressed against the door for the next hour. Everyone headed up to bed at some point and Hermione and Ginny came to check on you. They explained how Harry told them about what happened outside but you just asked them to let you be alone for now. Being the good friends they are, they listened to your request, but not before Ginny promised to "beat Ron to a pulp for hurting you" the next morning.

Even Harry came to check on you. He was visibly uncomfortable, crying girls were never his strong suit (as you could remember from his first kiss with Cho Chang) but he still managed to give you a comforting hug. You thanked him and he left almost as quickly as he arrived. You got ready for bed in a trance, your eyes now swollen from the crying. Slipping on your pajamas, you barely noticed you were throwing on the vintage band shirt Ron had gotten you for a gift earlier. This only made you cry more. Dite landed on your shoulder as you lay in your bed. She affectionately pecked your ear and nuzzled her feathers against your cheek.  

"I'm okay, Dite," you told her, petting her soft feathers. Your fingers traced the black heart on her head. Ron bought you an owl named Aphrodite, with a heart literally on her feathers, but he couldn't even tell you he loved you. These mixed signals made your head and heart both throb.

You fell asleep fitfully, waking up every couple of hours and tossing and turning in bed. Tomorrow was Percy's party, and you had to be okay for it. You couldn't let Ron know just how much he had hurt you. You would be fine tomorrow. You would be fine, just like you had been these past few weeks. You would be fine.

[myhaikyuuthings]

“These Words” soulmate series

prompt: soulmate au your soulmates last words ever said are on your body, they turn red when said, first words ever said to you are on another part of your body, they turn gold when said

pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

warnings: angst, major character death

wc: 1200 (exactly, damn go me)

a/n: this is going to be a mini series that I write for Minimum ten characters, so any specific ones you have in mind please feel free to request them

‘Well ain’t ya a pretty thing’ and ‘It’s a little early now ain’t it?’ were tattooed forever on the sides of your ribcage in messy handwriting, the words haunting you every time you looked in the mirror. At first, you thought it was obvious which words were what, but you didn’t realize just how close together they would be said. 

You met Atsumu in such a mundane way that it was almost comical. You had been visiting your childhood friend Sakusa when the blonde man approached you, the words falling from his lips like he had them memorized just waiting for you. His smirk had blossomed into a wide smile when you spoke, the words along his collarbone turning a brilliant gold. Your friend wasn’t exactly amused but he was happy for you, and the two of you quickly fell into perfect harmony. 

Over the first few weeks there were small hiccups but that’s normal. You both agreed to take things slow, not wanting to rush into the ‘I love you’ and relationship aspect just because you were soulmates. Truthfully it wasn’t uncommon for someone’s soulmate to be platonic, so it was the best decision to let things play out naturally. 

You never missed the way his eyes lingered on his collarbone when he passed the mirror, or the way he would glance at your ribs with a fond look in his eyes. The two of you promised to not show each other the last words until you were officially together, admittedly no one should know what their final words will be but it was inevitable if you pursued a romantic relationship. You were a little against the idea at first, mainly because of what exactly your words were, but you agreed none the less. 

He had invited you to watch one of his games a few months into your friendship. It was common knowledge now that he had met his soulmate, but no one really knew who you were. He played as well as ever, and you couldn’t help the pride that swelled in your chest at watching him perform. After the game the two of you took his car downtown, opting to walk around instead of driving the few blocks. 

“Y/N, I think  we have a good idea of what kind of soulmates we are now, don’t you?” he asked as the two of you strolled under the street lights, his hand brushing against yours with every step. 

You smiled softly, turning to look at him properly, “I’d say we do,” you agreed. 

He smiled at you, raising his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes flutter shut. He leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to your forehead with a smile, his other hand pulling you closer to him by your hips. You pulled back, bringing him in for a gentle kiss when you saw the headlights behind him. 

“Atsumu-” you gasped, pulling him out of the way before the car barreled onto the sidewalk. 

The car barely clipped him as it sped into the building you were previously standing in front, sending the two of you onto the ground. His body landed on you, the weight making it difficult for you to breathe as the world spun around you. The impact from the fall had definitely caused some damage to your head, but the groans above you brought you back to focus. He rolled off of you, falling flat onto his back on the pavement. 

“Hey hey it’s okay, you’re going to be fine alright,” you stammered, noticing the blood pooling underneath him. 

The fear coursing through your body was the only thing keeping you moving. You called for an ambulance while trying to keep him conscious and engaged in conversation. There was no way to tell how bad the damage was, but you knew there wouldn’t be that much blood if it wasn’t serious.

“Baby,” he coughed as you hung up the phone, reaching for your hand slowly, “i’m gonna be okay don’t worry, I still gotta take your ass on a date right?”

“Right, you aren’t going anywhere yet,” you agreed, taking his hand in yours tightly, “The ambulance will be here soon and we’ll get you help and everything’s fine, you’re fine.” 

“I gotta be fine, can’t die on you here,” he laughed, wincing at the pain it caused. You choked on a sob, trying to get him to stop moving. You cupped his cheek, wiping away the tears that ran down his face. 

“I love you,” you whispered, saying a small thank you to the universe as you heard the sirens approaching. He turned his head until his lips pressed against your palm, leaving a light kiss on your skin at your words. 

“I think,” he started, coughing slightly, blood pooling on his bottom lip, “it’s a little early now ain’t it?” 

You froze, your heart catching in your throat as you processed his words. He gave you a sad smile, his eyes beginning to droop as he looked at you. He knew from your reaction those were his words, this was it for him. His heart broke for you more than himself, and every moment with you flew through his mind in his last moments. Every time he could have made you his, really his, flashed through and he realized that would be his only regret in death. The sight of his eyes falling shut snapped you back to reality and then you were screaming. 

He didn’t die that night, the paramedics got him to the hospital and sent him directly to surgery. He lived, but he was in a medically induced coma so his body could heal without stress. A part of you hoped his words had been purely coincidence, after all they didn’t turn red. They weren’t red yet, that was a good sign. 

You visited him daily, even though he couldn’t respond back to you. You sat by his bed, telling him about your day and the newest things in volleyball. Sometimes his brother was there when you arrived and the two of you talked about the possibility of him waking up. One of you had to be there when he woke up you decided one day, so you alternated shifts. If you weren’t there Osamu was and vice versa. 

You went home that night, knowing he would call you if his brother woke up. Trusting him to call you. The morning you woke up you decided to take a shower before you headed back to the hospital. Your phone rang from your bedroom as you fell to your knees, the sight of red against your skin staring back at you from the floor length mirror. 

He had passed merely ten minutes before, Osamu couldn’t call immediately, the pain too much for him. By the time he did you already knew, and you rushed to the hospital. The two of you mourned Atsumu together, he was truly the only one who understood your pain. Atsumu was your soulmate, but he was Osamu’s in a way too. You lost the other part of your soul and Osamu lost the other part of his entirety. 

[stilesloverdaily]

You Found Me

Cedric Diggory x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

Words: 4k 

Warning: sad cause Cedric is dead and i’ll never forgive JK for it. ANGST, FLUFF. reader is hufflepuff. SERIOUSLY prepare tissues

♡ playlist ♡

Cedric ran out into the Hufflepuff common room, shrugging on his House cloak with one hand as he rushed to get to his potions class, as he’d slept in. “Crap.” The sixteen, soon to be seventeen, year old boy whispered to himself as he stubbed his toe on the chaise on the way out of the boy’s dormitories. A tendril of his hair fell in front of his face for a moment, before he ran his hand through it.

Helga shook her head above the fireplace at the boy’s foul language, before turning back to what she was doing, taking a sip from a golden cup. Her badger-covered-frame on the yellowish brick wall, as the sun fell in from the circular windows near the low ceiling. A fire aflame in the fireplace, continuous and homey, cheerful. Green plants covered the room, hanging and potted, ferns and ivies as well as the cacti dotted around the space. Occasional feet passing by the windows, creating brief shadows in the light. The rounded transparent glass showing the flowers and grass of the floor level to them.

“Sorry.” He quickly apologised to both Helga and the bumblebee coloured chaise. Diggory opened the rounded door and ran through, his books in his arms. A gasp took him from his frantic mind in a rush as he hit something. Reaching forward with one arm automatically, he caught the arm of the girl he had ran into, helping her stay upright. “Sorry.” He spoke once again.

Y/N looked up at the taller boy, with brown locks, fair skin and grey eyes, the boy wonder, the golden boy of the Hufflepuff house. Cedric Diggory was the captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team, where he played seeker, and was also a school prefect. She had had the biggest crush on him, everyone did, and kind of looked up to him as a person as they were in the same Hogwarts house. “It’s okay.” She spoke softly, her cloak slowly falling from her shoulder.

Her eyes held a warmth that Cedric hadn’t seen before and it made his stomach feel a light, reminding him of the fireplace from the common room. His eyes showed a light that was hard to see around here, something that was optimistic and merry, unlike the events of the previous years at their school.

“I was in a rush, and I wasn’t really paying attention.” Cedric muttered, his palm still on your forearm and his eyes still locked onto yours. “I should actually head out, um…” The boy trailed off, lost completely in you.

“I’m Y/N.” 

“Cedric.” He hummed.

She coughed after a moment, stepping out from his arm, reluctantly. Shaking her head lightly, a hair falling from her ponytail as she motioned behind him, “I forgot my Transfiguration textbook…” He slowly nodded as she stepped around him and towards the entrance honey-coloured wood barrels.

Spinning around to turn to Y/N, “Wait.” He held his arm out, grabbing her wrist lightly as he spoke. Turning around, her skin tingled at the limited skin to skin contact that there was, due to her cardigan sleeves higher up her forearms. Her eyes gazed up into his as he spoke, “Did you want to uh,” He shifted on his feet. “Want to hang out later?”

Cedric’s Potions class was gone from his mind, even if he would be chewed out by Slughorn, something in him needed to talk to her. Y/N smiled at the boy wonder, “Yeah, I’d like that.” What can she say, it was like they were drawn together.

Three months later

They had been dating ever since, even if it took him a couple times to officially ask for her to be his girlfriend, and Cedric had never felt more content. 

She supported him through his games, cheering in the stands in her black and yellow wool scarf, her jumpers and earmuffs, sometimes he even got distracted due to how cute she always looked. It felt weird for her to be dating the captain of the quidditch team and a prefect, as though all eyes were on them, but she didn’t care and people were nice about it.

The two of them became the golden couple.

Y/N was there for when he wanted to put his name into the goblet for the TriWizard Cup, even though she assured him that he didn’t have anything to prove, he understood but guaranteed you he wanted a challenge and to show that Hufflepuffs weren’t dimwits or duffers and could win such a prestigious award. She admired how loyal he was to their house, and it became one of the things she liked about him, his loyalty.

Cedric had been through the first two TriWizard events, tying first with Harry Potter, and to say that Y/N was on the edge of her seat during the events, was an understatement. She barely sat, having to always shift out of nerves for her beloved boyfriend. After the first event, she was sure that the next two events would leave her anxiety driven.

The second event, she was submerged as part of the task. Although not in real harm, Cedric had reached the village not long after Harry, and was shocked to find the item stolen from him was Y/N, and that she wasn’t safely on the sidelines. He swam directly to her in an instant and freed her from the restraints, not having the previous knowledge that she was indeed in no harm.

Once back on the shore, she had awoken, informing her boyfriend that she wasn’t in any harm, but he still held her face in his hands and checked her over for any signs of trauma. Giving her a short kiss, it was a reassurance if anything, but also a show of care.

A towel was placed over her by a teacher, before she grabbed one for Cedric. Hugging him in the towel, to help share her body heat and the need to hold him closely after terrifying events. Her heart was pounding against her chest, absolutely knowing he could feel it, but she couldn't help it, even if he was using a Bubble-Head Charm. He appreciated Y/N so much, the thought of putting her through so much worry or her being in any danger was the only downside to the tournament, he hated to see her so filled with anxiety or worse, hurt.

Her arms were wrapped around his torso, trapping him in the towel with his arms underneath, her head resting under his chin as they warmed each other up; her towel wrapped across her shoulders and held taut in her hands to keep herself warm also. Cedric beamed to himself, before moving to kiss the top of her head, humming against her. She smiled softly into him as he moved so his left cheek sat on top of her hair and closed his eyes, embracing her touch.

Cedric could stay like that all day. With her, safe.

The night before the final task, Cedric had asked Y/N to meet him in the common room, as he had wanted to take her somewhere special to them.

On their first official date, the captain of the quidditch team decided to take Y/N to a hidden spot he’d found in the castle that was abandoned. To get to this special place, you had to fly. He took her on his broomstick, after a small debate whether she trusted him or not. The conversation had begun upon the sight of his broomstick and the allusion it was safe to have two on it. She had rejected at first, saying riding with two was difficult, to which he bragged about being an experienced flyer.

She trusted him, of course, he was the head of her house’s quidditch team. But, she wanted him to work for it a bit. Y/N, of course was a trusting person anyway, it was in her nature, in her appointment to her Hogwarts house.

After small playful banter, she agreed although still nervous. Ced just had a playful smirk on his face as he assured her it was safe, which got her thinking how many girls he’d flown to the hidden spot or had just ridden on the back of his broom, causing her tummy to flip anxiously. Ignoring that feeling, she got on behind him and held tight and the journey to their destination was one to awe at.

Flying high, the two flew above the castle, amongst the clouds, passing the moon. Looking at their school, she noticed how breathtaking it could be from this angle, the castle’s sharp spikes giving a thrilling allusion but also providing a strong fairytale atmosphere. The lights in the castle windows made their flight feel dangerous in the sense that they could get caught, giving an excitable ailment to their ride. Gazing across the expanse of their school, she smiled leaning against Cedric’s back with a content sigh.

Cedric didn’t refuse the contact, feeling tranquil at her touch.

After rounding the castle a few times, Cedric flew to one of the spiked coned roofs, that held light through an opened rectangular window, easy to spot in the darkness. Flying closer to the window, he asked her to get off and into the window which she scoffed at, no way was she getting off a broomstick this high to get through the window.

“Please?” He softly spoke.

Y/N sighed, holding him tighter as she shuffled close to the windows edge, and successfully climbing through the window. He smiled and waited for her to safely get inside before climbing in himself, holding his broom securely.

Y/N opened the round honey wood door, spotting Cedric straight away standing with his arms behind his back as he swayed on his feet, staring at a knot in the wood floor. He was wearing weekend clothes, a grey sweater that complement his eyes, a yellow shirt collar poking out from underneath, some dark brown khaki pants accentuating his long legs, and some black converse fitted on his feet. His hair was styled messy, with little gel, a curl left hanging above his right eyebrow.

Upon hearing the door open, he saw Y/N quickly shutting the door to the girl’s dorms so as to not let light into the room, before she turned back to him. She was also wearing weekend clothes; a pair of black skinny jeans around her legs, frilly white socks in a pair of dijon coloured flats, a pale peach t-shirt with loose dandelions on, a black school cardigan and the classic house scarf. Her hair was down, and pushed behind her ears as she beamed up at him, the firelight lighting up her soft features.

Her smile was contagious as his lips turned up, as he smiled from ear to ear whilst she walked towards the centre of the room to meet him. Leaning down slightly, he kissed her lips briefly and pulled back.

Chuckling softly, she laced her arms behind his head and pulled him back in gently to kiss him again, for longer. It was sweet, full of passion and caring, a peaceful moment between the two. Helga noticed the two kissing, and as she was about to say for them to go to sleep, she held back, letting them be young. A smile to her face as she looked on at the two, not creepily but with remembrance, to be young and in love.

Pulling apart, he smiled softly down at her, “Ready?” Nodding, the two headed towards the door to exit the common room, Cedric walking behind her like a gentleman. Helga decided that she would keep their secret rendezvous to what it was, a secret. Passing through the castle kitchen, the two made their way to a door leading outside just like their first date. Coming across a broomstick on the floor, Cedric muttered the one word and it was up and infused with the young warlock’s magic.

Flying that night was much like the first time they had done it, whimsical and thrilling. The wind whipping through her hair, causing her nose and cheeks to become rosy from the brisk air. Stars out and scattered across the sky, a rather clear night few clouds could be seen in the moonlight. Y/N tightly held her boyfriend, having complete trust in him after having done this more than once before.

The two had come up for secluded dates during the weeks, and alone time that could only be shared between the two.

After reaching the spiked roof, Y/N climbed off, quickly followed by Cedric, the candlelight illuminating the space. The space never stopped to take her breath away.

Candles were placed safely around, lighting the area, a blue cerulean blanket on the floor surrounded by a few random pillows of different patterns and colours. A picnic basket stood to the side of the blanket, the weaved hamper holding delicious goods. The two had brought things like plants and photos to help decorate over time, the former proving quite difficult.

Sitting in their regular spots, the two began to discuss everything and anything, always falling into conversation easily. The topic of the following day’s task talked about briefly, but not wanting to worry Y/N, Cedric decided to change topic. They discussed the letters they had received from their parents, and what was going on at school. She mentioned a wacky conversation that Seamus, her and Ben had that day in their Care of Magical Creatures class and the joke that the Weasley twins had told her earlier on.

The two talked for what felt like hours as they ate and drank apple juice, until Cedric grabbed her hand, looking her in the eyes. She smiled at him and as he kissed her hand, she realised something. Although they had dated for almost a year, nine and a half months, she decided that she, Y/N Y/L/N, was indeed in love with Cedric Diggory. They had both said they loved each other about two months after they met, but she didn’t just love him, she was in love with him. She saw a future with him, yes they were seventeen, but she saw it all.

Marriage, kids, and a happy life. Together. 

Cedric however, had seen this about four months in, seen his future with Y/N, had seen that he was in love with her, everything.

He reached into his back pocket with the hand not holding hers, pulling out a bracelet. It was threaded, with thin green-ish leather straps, a heart pendant hanging in between a woven section. “I want you to have this.” He spoke softly in the quiet air between the both of them. She awed at the bracelet as he tied it around the wrist he was holding.

“It’s beautiful.”

It was, although simple, it had felt like the most complicated, amazing piece of jewelry she had seen.

“I was going to give it to you after the task tomorrow, but I decided to do it now to say thank you.” He sighed softly, moving his eyes from her wrist to her eyes. “For staying with me through all this Cup tournament thing. For loving me as much I love you, and being the best thing to come into my life. Although I was sorted into our house, with my accomplishments I doubted whether I still belonged to it, or if I had betrayed it somehow. But, you showed me that I haven’t, you’ve humbled me and brought me back down to earth, been with me through the highs and lows. I love you.”

Tears had slipped from her eyes, to which he happily wiped away, claiming something as beautiful as her shouted be crying. Leaning forward, Y/N kissed him with all she could wrapping her arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent that she’d become accustomed to.

The two seventeen year olds fell into each other’s arms, cuddling each other tight, holding the other close as possible. Before the two of them fell asleep, however, they decided to go back and rest up for tomorrow. Whilst Cedric prepared the broomstick, Y/N blew out the candles, coming to the decision that they’d clean up after he won tomorrow.

As the candles died out, all that was left was the darkness of the room, when a chill ran over her shoulders, as she glanced back before leaving on the broom. Ignoring it, she hugged Cedric tight on the broom, they’d be back tomorrow probably.

Y/N had never screamed so loud, her heart had been ripped from her as she ran forward towards the maze wall.

No, it wasn’t true.

They were going to get married, have kids and have a happy life together. It couldn’t be.

More specifically, she didn’t want it to be.

The two had gone to the final task, a maze, with high hopes and hopeful smiles as Cedric was in the lead. He was so close to winning, they could taste it. He walked her to the spectating area, to which she gave him a kiss for luck, before he joined Harry, Fleur and Viktor near the entrance. She should’ve known, something about the kiss didn’t feel like luck, it felt like a goodbye.

She pulled him in tight, her lips against his in a smooth motion as they fit together perfectly, a tug in her stomach which she ignored as he let the moment take them before he had to go.

Her body shivered from the cold british air, the clouds hiding the warm sun, calling a dreary nature to the day. Y/N had turned to Hermione and Ron, wishing her best to Harry as well, which they returned for Cedric. She did the same with Fleur’s sister.

She stood staring at the wall in anticipation for what felt like years, swaying on the balls of her feet in her usual way that she had been during the first task.

Only for Harry Potter to emerge, with Cedric in his arms lifeless. He was shouting about Voldemort had murdered him, and that Cedric was too good to die by an accident, but Y/N’s ears were ringing, she barely heard anything the glasses wearing brunette said.

Each step forward she took was equal to the harsh beat of her erratic heart, a shrill scream at the sight of the boy exiting with the boy she was in love with in his arms. Approaching his body, Harry had moved away, tears staining his cheeks much like hers, her hands reaching for Cedric’s face and chest as she knelt beside him. Her cries were resounding throughout the field the maze had been placed on.

Bringing his head into her lap, she dragged his upper body into her arms, crying over his corpse. She heard faint voices and felt people trying to pull her from him, but she blocked it out.

By the time the stadium had cleared, and McGonagal helped whisk the maze away, it was just her, Cedric and his parents. She had no tears left, her cheeks stained with the remnants, which made her face taut. Her right hand was softly placed on his left cheek, as if he were to break if she used too much force, his body having become cold and still, his face had paled and any signs of life were gone.

She would have stayed with him like that for eternity if she could, holding him close as if would bring him back. It was only when she heard Hagrid’s voice, who knows how long later, that she was brought out of her trance. Y/N protested against moving, but knew she had to in order to lay Cedric to rest.

There was hardly a funeral, just a leaving feast turned speech about him by Dumbledore, and despite his death, Harry was recorded the winner of the tournament. He refused, even tried to give the money to Cedric’s parents, who also refused. The funds ended up in the hands of the twins for their shop, they say they dedicated the opening to Cedric, she didn’t go though.

His death proved to be an inspiration to students, some ‘Support Cedric Diggory’ badges still linger throughout the castle, his death not in vain. His bravery against Voldemort was unmatched in Y/N’s eyes.

Dumbledore asked if she wanted to say something at the feast/memorial, which she did and Harry didn't.

“Cedric was a friend for all, that’s just who he was. He was loyal, hard working and trusted. His death won’t be in vain, I won’t allow it, neither would he. Cedric would want people to learn and act in wake of his death, stand up for what is right and just. Work hard for peace and care for others around you.” A few tears fell from your speech, as you breathed in. “Thank you.”

Later on, she’d found out from Harry that Cedric wanted him to take his body back to her, whilst he’d helped other people out even after death.

Y/N didn’t return to their spot for about a month, when she finally decided it was time. It was the weekend, she secretly flew up on her broomstick, it wasn’t as magical as it had been with him and it was daytime. Climbing in, the room felt cold, abandoned and just empty, although it was still how they had left it the night before he passed.

Light streamed in through the window she’d entered from, shining on what was left of the candles, the blanket and pillows, the basket and cups as well as the dead plants. It illuminated the badge she had on the wall which Cedric didn’t like much, saying ‘Support Cedric Diggory’. The photos were in clear view, pictures of the two of them sharing happy moments played out in a video before her, along with a picture of him from the start of the tournament. Taken the day he found out he’d been chosen, a smile on his face as he beamed.

The dead plants reminded her of the void in her shattered heart, and how she couldn’t be in the common room unless passing through because the memories were too much. The common room filled with plants and life, it was once one of her favourite places. It reminded her of her loss and all the emotions that happened in that room, everything that had happened in the space she was standing. The struggle to get the plants up safely.

She cried.

She fell upon the dusty pillows and cried after weeks of keeping it together.

Weeks of seeing reminders everywhere, people coming up to her and commenting on how they’re sorry and it’ll get better.

After the sun had faded, she lit the candles as her tears stopped, getting up from her position. She walked to where she placed her broom, reaching for the broom she brought next to hers. Picking it up, Y/N walked to lean it against the wall with the photos. Technically, it was all one wall as she did stand in a cone roof. Standing back, she smiled slightly at Cedric’s broom standing next to his picture, the broom that brought them here many a time.

She hated the thought that one day, she would leave this school and this spot would be empty and cold forever. Or at least until someone found it.

Still staring at the broom and picture, she spoke, her throat scratchy from crying. “I’m glad we bumped into each other, I’m glad you found me.” His photo winked at her and she laughed lightly, twirling the bracelet on her wrist.

Y/N came back every weekend from then on, talked to the space and pictures and sometimes did her homework there, or to get peace and quiet. She said hello to Helga everyday, to which Helga nodded back. Helga made sure to watch over her and watch her grow to be a proud member of Dumbledore’s Army, created in memory of Ced.

She told Dumbledore and Harry about the spot, to ensure that she could come back every year on the day they met, but other than them, the secret spot was never discovered by anyone else. Which made her think how Cedric Diggory found it in the first place.

Cedric never told Y/N that Helga told him about it.

tagged: @itsnolongerteen​ @justsomewritingsandshit​

[lupinlongbottom]

Jacaranda pt. 2

Draco Malfoy x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: The next two years at Hogwarts were to be the best in (Y/N)’s life; A happy relationship, friends she could almost call her siblings and subjects she was passionate about. But, Draco Malfoy had other plans for the two, a true test of their faith and trust. 

Prompt: Your Draco Malfoy imagine was sooo good! I thought it was so well written and such a nice relationship! It got me thinking about what do you think would happen to them during their 6/7th year? Like I'd assume even though they'd be on opposite sides of the war, she would understand why Draco does what he does... - Anon

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: a bit of swearing, mention of blood

A/N: I just felt like their story needed more, you know? idk. felt inspired and wanted to write for Draco again! I really enjoy writing conflict. Wild.

Part 1

__

The train was solemn, quiet, almost. Normally, (Y/N) found herself enjoying the laughter of the students around her, finding solace in the few friends she had acquired over the years. This year, however, (Y/N) sat next to Draco, quietly holding his hand as the train barreled towards Hogwarts. He hadn’t been the same since his father was thrown in to Azkaban, for good reason, (Y/N) thought. Draco idolized his father, tried to prove himself worthy to the man any chance he could.

The past summer was the first she had spent without Draco, without the laughter and sunshine he brought into her already bleak life. She found her afternoons lackluster, trying to read her textbooks underneath the glow of the blue tree, trying to bring herself to think of anything but him. Though they had confessed their truest feelings, the entirety of their relationship was thrown to the back burner as Draco claimed he had ‘more important things’ to attend to that summer.

(Y/N) knew she shouldn’t take it seriously, that losing his father was taking a toll on him. He neglected to send back owls, only finding it in himself to respond curtly, in short sentences when he did. Once, she received a letter with only two words; ‘trust me’. (Y/N) tried, tried terribly hard to believe him, to trust that Draco was alright. Even when the Malfoy’s were invited to the (L/N) Estate for lunch, Narcissa was the only one to show. To say that she was angry would be the smallest of understatements.

Still, she persisted to be a good friend, to comfort him in any way she knew how. She didn’t need to yell at Draco, as badly as she knew he deserved to hear her vile words, the one’s she had crafted over the summer, she held her tongue, quietly listening to the chatter around her.

“When do you suppose we’ll arrive to Hogwarts?” Pansy Parkinson asked, seated directly across the table from the couple, her eyes digging directly into (Y/N)’s profile.

“Roughly the same time as always, Parkinson,” Draco spat, his fingers tapping rapidly against the tabletop. Almost frantic. “Hogwarts,” he laughed. “What a pathetic excuse for a school.” 

“Draco,” (Y/N) mumbled, squeezing his hand for just a moment. She noted the way his features softened, briefly, his eyes looking warmer for the second he relaxed. “Are you alright?”

“Never been better, (Y/N),” Draco said, uninterested. “Just can’t wait to get back to classes, to learning about stupid spells and stupid plants—”

“Draco,” (Y/N) said, repeating his name.

“What?” He spat, turning directly towards (Y/N), now facing her head on. He stared at her for a minute, his brows furrowed tightly together. “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” (Y/N) said, pulling her hand away, her face hardened. “I think-I think I’ll leave you be,” she stood up. “Slughorn invited me to his carriage earlier, I’m going to take him up on his offer, I think,” (Y/N) said, turning her back to Draco. “I’ll…” she paused, her eyes flicking over the darkened boy, wondering where the light in him went. “I’ll see you.”

__

(Y/N) didn’t see much of Draco, practically at all. After confronting him about Potter’s broken and bloodied nose, Draco practically avoided (Y/N) every chance he got for a week after the fact, dodging her in the halls, once jumping over the couch in their common room to get past her. She had no idea where he was off to, where his mind was at. (Y/N) was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Despite her morals getting the better of her, (Y/N) decided the only way to confront Draco was to follow him. He hadn’t been showing up to classes, even when he did, his mind was elsewhere, face bleak and empty. She found, that he clung to Crabbe and Goyle more than normal, having them follow him like bodyguards, unlike his usual gaggle of lackeys. It wasn’t until she followed him to the seventh floor, past the ghastly tapestry that she knew where he was going.

The Room of Requirement. (Y/N) was aware of the room, having trained in Dumbledore’s Army for much time in her last year, hiding from the scrutiny and force of Dolores Umbridge. What on earth could Draco have a need for that the room could provide? A place to reflect? To mourn? 

She took a deep breath, pacing in front of the bare wall. Three times, she reminded herself. Three times she needed to walk past the wall, to really have the room understand what she required. After her third circle, a door grew, appearing from the marbling of the walls. Hesitantly, she opened it, finding herself surrounded by various objects, ranging in size and shape. A loud clatter could be heard farther in the room.

“Draco?” (Y/N) asked, walking towards the noise. Funneling past bookshelves, layers of dust coating a few. The rustling stopped, leaving (Y/N) hopelessly lost, until, however, she found the tip of a wand pressing against the flesh of her cheek.

“(Y/N)?” Draco said, relaxing his arm, his hand hovering in front of her face.

“Will you put your wand away?” (Y/N) said, pushing the stick away from her, down to Draco’s side. “Godric, sometimes you just get so trigger-happy.”

“How did you find me?” Draco asked again, his fist curling tightly around the base of his wand. “You should be in Potions class right now, surely you didn’t—”

“Skip?” (Y/N) laughed. “That’s a laugh, coming from you.”

“Why did you, then? Follow me?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Draco,” (Y/N) said plainly, shrugging her shoulders lightly. “I’ve figured the only way to get you to talk to me is to find out where you’ve been going. I also figured that of all the teachers to be lax about me skipping would be Slughorn, considering…”

“Considering the stupid involvement you have in his ‘Slug Club’?” Draco spat, only mildly annoyed. 

“Hey, it’s a stupid club but it’s my stupid club,” (Y/N) retorted, crossing her arms. “He’s dull, but I find it comforting to be wanted somewhere for once, Draco,” she clicked. “Somewhere where I can be noted for my accomplishments. Not that you’d care enough about it.”

“(Y/N), did you really come here just to yell at me?” Draco asked, putting his wand in the back pocket of his trousers, now completely at ease with her presence. His eyes flicked around to the various objects beside (Y/N), never directly looking at her.  “I’m not in the mood to fight, quite exhausted, really.”

“You look it,” (Y/N) said, noting the dark circles under Draco’s eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks,” her hand rose to his jaw, thumb tracing underneath the growing bags hanging under his eyes, puffy and irritated.

“Always the detective,” Draco said, pushing her hand away gently. “Of course I haven’t been sleeping, my father was thrown into Azkaban. The Malfoy’s are the laughing stock of The Prophet, the butt of everyone’s jokes,” he spat, running a hand through his unruly hair, (Y/N) noted how it wasn’t styled like it normally was. “I’ve been… busy, taking over the position as the head of the Malfoy family.”

“Draco, you don’t mean—”      

“Are you really all that surprised?” Draco asked, staring (Y/N) directly in her eyes. “Since my father was caught, the Dark Lord needed someone to take his place—to finish the task that he was supposed to fulfill, to have me prove my place—”

“Your arm,” (Y/N) said, holding her hand out. “Show me. Now, Draco.”

“Do you really need proof?” He chided, cocking his head to the side. “Do you really need to hurt yourself over it?” 

“Yes,” she said, offering her hand again, preparing herself to forcibly pull his jumper off of him. “I need to see it, Draco. I don’t believe you, I don’t believe that you’d actually—”  

It was then, in the filtering light from the lamp above that (Y/N) saw it, the mark. Draco had ripped his sleeve upward, shining the black branding at (Y/N), the snake wriggling ever so slightly. She looked up at Draco’s face, noting the pain etched into his features. Fear, loathing, disappointment.

“Go on,” Draco said, thrusting his forearm closer to (Y/N). “Get a better look! Take it all in, (Y/N)! Is this the proof you wanted? Is this what you really wanted to see? Does it make you feel better?”

“Of course it doesn’t!” (Y/N) screamed, throwing her hands into fists, tightly holding them to her sides. “In no universe could this make me feel better, Draco! Godric, here I thought you’d be strong enough to ignore him, wise enough to get out of this mess before it swallowed you whole!”

“You think too highly of me.”

“I do because I love you, Draco!” (Y/N) spat, punching his chest, pushing him back a few steps. “Damnit,” she stumbled, rising her hand again, ready to strike. “You… you git!” 

Draco grabbed her wrist, stopping the incoming blow. “Love?” he clicked, throwing her hand to the side. “Please. You could never really love me, love the things that I’ve had to do.”

“You’re shitting me,” (Y/N) said, feeling the tears stinging in her eyes, threatening to fall. “You’ve got to be shitting me, Draco. What? Are we going to ignore everything that happened to us? Our entire lives? The last year?”

“I can,” Draco clicked, his face stony. “You should too. Forget about me, run off with your pathetic do-good friends, it’ll pay off in the long-run, maybe you’ll be safe.”

“So that’s what this is? You’re trying to push me away,” (Y/N) said, taking a few steps back, her shoe hitting the foot of a chair. “You’re pathetic, Draco Malfoy.”

“I’m doing it because I care about you—”

“If you really cared, you’d stop,” (Y/N) said plainly. “I know that you’ve—you’ve got to do this,” she shook her head, almost unwillingly. “I know that’s what he wants you to think.”

“You could join,” Draco said, pulling on her jumper sleeve, hanging onto the threads with every ounce of will he could. “But,” his arm went slack. “I know that’s not—not what’s best for you. I’m trying, (Y/N),” his voice grew smaller. “I’m just trying to save my family. I have to do this, to ensure that he won’t lay a finger on anyone I care about, you included.”

“I doubt I’m at the top of his list,” (Y/N) scoffed, pulling her arm away.

“Really?” Draco laughed pitifully. “You don’t think so? (Y/N) (L/N), daughter and Heiress of the esteemed (L/N) family, famously standing to the side of the war, blending into the grey of the matter, taking neither side,” he held up his fingers, counting off. “Friends with Harry Potter, the number one enemy to the Dark Lord,” he pushed the pad of his finger back, making a point. “Girlfriend of Draco Malfoy, the son of his most recent oversight!” 

“‘Girlfriend’? So now we’re using that word?” (Y/N) said, her tone growing sour. “Funny, people don’t usually treat their girlfriends this way, do they?”

“What else do you want me to do, (Y/N)?” Draco laughed again, the sound almost painful. “I’ve been trying everything, anything, to get you to stop following me,” he sighed, pausing for a moment. “You don’t believe in him, the Dark Lord.”

“Of course I don’t, I never have—”    

“Then leave,” Draco said simply. “Leave before it gets real, (Y/N). Forget about me, ignore the things I have to do. Run, far away from all of this.”

“You really think that, don’t you?” (Y/N) shook her head, fighting the tears. “You want me to believe that you’re the monster, right? Right?!” Her words echoed against the various objects surrounding them, somehow floating in the air. Draco stood silent. “Fine then. Be happy. You’re the monster you’ve always feared.”

(Y/N) turned around, afraid she might cry, sob openly in front of the person she least wanted the pleasure of seeing it. A few quick skips and almost tripping over a large black cabinet, (Y/N) exited into the empty corridor. She knew that Draco had no choice, knew deep down that he was doing what he thought was right. She just wished that she was a part of that plan.

She didn’t speak to Draco for the rest of the year, unless it was purely in an academic setting. As badly as (Y/N) wanted to curse him into oblivion, she knew that this fight, the war that was directly under their noses, was the rift that inevitably was to tear them apart. She threw herself into her studies, gaining high marks in each of her classes, learning each and every curse and hex she could muster. If there was to be a war, a big one at that, she had to prepare herself.

(Y/N) had heard of the cursed locket, the poisoned mead. Harry tried to convince his peers, his friends, that Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater and her intended on killing Dumbledore. (Y/N) didn’t need much convincing, but she hardly gave Harry the satisfaction of being right. She never shared Draco’s secret, his mark, intending to take it to her grave. A last bit of thanks she owed the boy. The last bit she would owe him, ever.

When she heard of what Harry had done to Draco, (Y/N) couldn’t even bring herself to cry, to feel remorse. She knew it was terrible, what had happened, she knew she should’ve visited him in the Hospital Wing, hold his hand. But, she also knew it was against everything Draco wanted. He didn’t deserve the pleasure of seeing her, being comforted by her. After everything he said, what he said he wanted from her, she couldn’t bring herself to bother caring.

“There might be a fight,” Harry spoke honestly, pulling (Y/N) out of her mental tangent. “Death Eaters, in the school,” he swallowed thickly. “We need all the man-power we can get, if need be.”

“We’ve got your back, Harry,” Neville said, proudly. “Dumbledore’s Army, forever.”

“We can help,” Luna agreed, nodding her head.

(Y/N) sat for a moment, feeling a sense of pride well in her chest. The group of stragglers stared at the Slytherin, eyes flicking over her profile. She knew she had to answer, knew she finally had to pick a side. No longer will she be pushed to the sidelines, ignoring this impending war, much like her cowardice parents did once before. She finally stepped out of both ponds, picking a side.

“I’m in,” (Y/N) said, face hardened. “You can count on me.”

She stood with Harry.

__

Her seventh year was nothing like she had ever imagined it to be. The war was looming around them, Voldemort had taken over the Ministry, appointing Severus Snape to be Headmaster of the school. (Y/N) had deliberated on wether or not to even return to the wizarding school, if at all. Many of her classmates had made similar choices.

The atmosphere in the Slytherin House was a dark one, the majority of the house overjoyed with how the school was being run, how the war was turning out. Many of the students had Death Eater family members, or just supported Voldemort in the war anyway, leaving little worrying in the dungeons.

(Y/N) had never felt more alone. Her closest friends hadn’t shown up to school for that year, not sharing any insight on to their whereabouts or plans. She knew, however, that it was imperative that they kept the casualties to a minimum, knew that their lack of sharing was their way of keeping her and their other friends safe. Regardless, (Y/N) felt the people she had grown closest to were farther away than ever.

She had, however, toyed with the notion of talking to Draco. He, much to everyone’s surprise, showed up for the following school year. Many thought that he’d go and fully join Voldemort and his goons, but, nonetheless, there he sat, staring at the fireplace in the common room. He looked broken, eyes empty. Maybe she should entertain the idea some more.

“(Y/N),” he called from the couch, eyes not leaving the fireplace. He had caught her before she rose to her dormitory. Guess the time was now.

“Yes?” (Y/N) replied, turning to the blonde. She made sure to keep her voice level, composure even. “What do you want?”

“We should… talk,” Draco said, tapping his fingers rhythmically onto the arm of the dark green couch. “I haven’t—we haven’t spoken…”

“Funny,” (Y/N) spat. “I wonder why that is,” she began to turn back, only to hear a deep sigh come from Draco. “Alright, fine,” she moved over to the couch, standing squarely in front of the boy, crossing her arms. “Talk.”

“Wouldn’t you rather take a seat?”

“No.”

“Alright.”

Draco stared at his shoes, all black and polished. He didn’t quite know what to say, or how to say it. How could he? Surely he had broken her heart, if any of the pain was as mutual for their split in the last year was nearly as close to his. The large clock that hung in the center of the wall, off to the right of the fireplace ticked slowly, menacingly at the two.

“Well?” (Y/N) tapped her foot, the sound almost akin to a soft slap. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, fearing it was all he could say. “Sorry for everything—”

“Are you?” She cut him off, leaning towards the blonde. “Are you really all that sorry? You don’t seem sorry, you seem sorry for the guilt you’ve caused for yourself.”

“I heard… about your parents—”

“Yeah? I’m sure you have, seen them at a few meetings, have you?” (Y/N) chuckled airily, loosening her arms for just a moment. “They’ve finally picked a side, good on them, right? I’m sure the Dark Lord is pleased to have the elusive and cowardice (L/N)’s on his side finally, yeah? Another pure-blooded family to add to the army?”

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” (Y/N) said, holding a finger. “You wanted to talk, so I’m going to talk,” she spat, making a point. “If you think for even a second that I’m going to follow suit with my parents, you’d be dead wrong.”

“Of course I don’t think you’re going to join,” Draco scoffed, finally growing annoyed. “You’d think your years of trailing behind Potter and his Gryffindor goons would’ve given me any other reason to believe that?”

“You still aren’t getting it, are you?” (Y/N) clicked, her arms now comfortably resting at her sides. “This isn’t about Potter anymore, Draco! This is a matter of war,” she let out a sigh, feeling the dark pit in her stomach burble.

“Yeah? Seems to me it’s still pretty much about Potter, isn’t it?”

“Merlin’s beard, will you stop talking about Potter for once?” (Y/N) said, finally releasing the words she’d pent up for years, always hidden on the back burner. “People are dying, Draco. Innocent people, with families and children. People are dying because of Voldemort’s sick and twisted narrative on what society should be, what our world should look like. But yeah, go off about Potter again.”

“Godric, (Y/N), you infuriate the shit out of me sometimes,” Draco said, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think that I’m more than capable to understand what he’s doing?”

“You’re more than capable,” (Y/N) said, nodding lightly. “I just don’t understand why you’re still fighting on the wrong side—”    

“Here we go with the ‘wrong side’ nonsense,” Draco rose to his feet, squarely standing in front of (Y/N). “Do you know why I even bothered to show up to school this year? Why I’m not out there with him?”  

“It’s compulsory, mandatory for students to show up this year, if not—”

“It’s because I have a better chance of staying alive in these walls than out there,” Draco raised a finger, pointing to the outside world beyond the windows. “Even with my father now out of Azkaban, our family is still vying for his approval, still under scrutiny of what my father did.”

“Bully for you,” (Y/N) said cooly. “I’m sure your involvement with Dumbledore’s assassination sufficed enough, yeah?”

“You know about that?” Draco asked, pausing for a moment, taking a step back.  

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Draco,” (Y/N) laughed, picking at her nails for just a moment, trying to ignore how badly she wanted to slap him. “Harry had his suspicions all last year. My parents just couldn’t stop talking about it after their first real meeting. They never really cared for Dumbledore, they were just dying to share the news when I got back that summer.”

“I’m not the one who—”

“Do you think that it even matters? To me, anyway?”

“I guess not.”

“Say all you want about Hogwarts and how ‘poorly’ it was run before, but if you try to look me in the eyes and tell me that this Hogwarts, the one where we’re forced to use the fucking Cruciatus curse on anyone, try to tell me that this Hogwarts is what’s right in the world?” (Y/N) spat, barely taking another breath between her words. “I’m one of the lucky few, the Carrows don’t pay much attention to me unless I speak up—”

“Which you do—”

“Of course I do!” (Y/N) finally shouted. “I’m not going to stand around and watch children, literal children, get hexed and cursed and beaten because they won’t follow their ruling! Haven’t you noticed that I’m sporting this look of late?” She ran her finger to her cheek, a swollen and violently red bump met her touch. “Got that one for standing up for Neville, for doing what he’s doing.”

“Longbottom? Serves you right, anyone deserves to be beaten for standing up for that numpty,” Draco clicked, crossing his arms, receding back to the cushions of the couch. “Him, Weasley and Lovegood have been vandalizing the walls with their rubbish, speaking out too often, getting in the way of the Carrows.”

“Don’t you reckon I’m helping them?” 

“It’s crossed my mind,” Draco admitted. “Yes.”

“Then why do you sound surprised? Why are you ever shocked with my choices? You’ve known that I’ve made these choices in the past, yet every time I go against what you’d want me to do, you look like the world has ended,” (Y/N) said, her voice cooling down. “We’ve had similar starts in life, yeah, but where we are now,” she pointed a finger between the two, pushing it back and forth. “Is a direct correlation of character, Draco Malfoy. A testament to our true nature.”

“Funny,” Draco clicked his tongue. “You never thought that this life,” he pulled up his sleeve, the Dark Mark shining brighting against his pale skin. “That these choices defined me all those years ago, what changed? Was it this mark? Or was it the brainwashing of the others around you?”  

“Shove off, Malfoy,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing a hand to her hair. “Of course it was the mark! In years past it was easy to throw your name-calling and bullying under the rug, I hoped you would grow out of it…” She paused for a moment, hearing the loud clicks of the seconds passing by. “I still think you can,” (Y/N) said, a bit lower than before. “And I think you know that, too.”

“Doubtful.”

“There’s conflict in you,” (Y/N) said, lowering her hand. “You would’ve gone through with killing Dumbledore yourself if there wasn’t. I urge you to be better, trust yourself, not the words of the people around you. Listen to what Draco really has to say.”

(Y/N) exited the room, the weight of her words weighing heavily on Draco’s shoulders.

__

The air was somber, thick with sorrow and relief. The war had ended. Voldemort was dead. Friends and family were dead. The celebration in the Great Hall was of a temperate energy. While most were elated for the war to finally be over, many were still in mourning of the ones they had lost.

(Y/N), now covered in soot and blood, made her way through the hall. Her parents had fled the scene, not wanting to take part in the battle, on either side, truly showing their nature as the greyest of cowards. She nodded at friends she had passed, many scowled at her uniform, still wearing the green of Slytherin house, but it did not matter. What did matter, was the trio of blondes, all seated together, looking as if they didn’t belong.

“Draco,” (Y/N) sighed, finally making eye contact with the boy.

“(Y/N),” his blue-grey eyes lit up with a spark, jolting from the spot between his parents. He pulled her into a high embrace, unsure of what else to do. They could feel the eyes of the Malfoy’s on their backs, but didn’t care. (Y/N)’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, leaning up to hold him closer. Draco felt himself melt into the touch, his head falling into the crook of her neck. They didn’t speak, but merely swayed for a moment, the world around them unmoving.

“Hi,” (Y/N) said, pulling her head away, eyes flicking between Draco’s.

“Hi,” Draco repeated, chuckled airily as he fought a grin.

“You’re alive,” she mumbled into his chest, taking in the sickly smell of sweat and dirt.

“I know.”

“I’ve been thinking,” (Y/N) said, loosening her arms just a bit, but still not disconnecting from Draco.

“A dangerous pastime,” Draco said, finally succumbing to his grin. He couldn’t help it. “What’ve you been thinking about?”

“All of this,” (Y/N) said, honestly. “Us.”

“Us?” Draco said, his brows furrowing closer together. “What about us?” 

“Knocking on death’s door really puts life into perspective, you know?” (Y/N) said, glancing back up at the boy. “Makes you realize what you really want in life, while you still can.”

“And that’s what you really want?” Draco asked, almost hesitating. “You want me? Us?” (Y/N) nodded, the trace of a smile pulling at her lips. “I thought you were still mad at me, bloody hell, I know I would be.”

“I am,” (Y/N) nodded again. “Still mad at you, I mean. I don’t think I’ll ever be over it,” she laughed, the sound ringing into Draco’s ears. As beautiful as a bell. “But, you’ve changed. You still have conflict, I feel it in you, Draco. But you’ve chosen the right side, finally. Much more to work on, but that can be arranged,” (Y/N) smiled. “But, people do crazy things, think crazy things when…”

“When what?” Draco poked, knowing full well what (Y/N) was to say next. “Tell me, (Y/N), people do crazy things when what?”

“Shove it, Malfoy,” she said, pushing his face playfully away, her own shining as red as tomatoes. “You know full well what I was going to say.”

“You’re right,” Draco hummed, rocking back and forth on his toes, unsure of what to do. “I do.”

“Glad to see that you’re not as dim as I thought—”

“I love you.”

The words were quick, meaningful. Draco had never said them aloud, never fully to her. Only in his dreams did he imagine the moment would come where he could share his feelings with the one he desperately wanted to. Even in their fifth year, when their feelings collided, he never, truly, said those pesky three words. (Y/N) was always the one to say them, always two steps ahead.

“You—what?” (Y/N) babbled, stunned by the sudden confession.

“I love you,” Draco repeated, his words more determined. He ran his hand to her cheek, holding it gently. “Honestly, (Y/N), you should get your ears checked out, perhaps they were injured in midst the battle?”

“Funny,” (Y/N) clicked, leaning into his touch. “I just never thought that you’d actually—wow,” she shook her head slightly. “I never imagined that—”

“Would you shut up for a moment so I can kiss you?” Draco said, placing his thumb over her lips, successfully silencing the girl. (Y/N) nodded lightly, feeling her cheeks grow hot.

He pulled her in fiercely, his hand pushing itself behind her head, pulling her lips to his quickly. This is what they’d been fighting for all along, it was clear to both Draco and (Y/N). How plain it was, now that they had each other in their arms. The kiss was soft, full of their respect, their love for one another.

They had felt it, the eyes of the hall on them. Perhaps that’s what caused the two to pull away so soon, but even with the eyes of the world on the couple, they knew that it would be harder to separate them now than ever. 

“I suppose…” (Y/N) said, interlacing her fingers with Draco’s. “I suppose you should get back to your parents.”

“You’re right,” Draco hummed, his eyes still glued to the girl before him. “We should get back to them.”

“We?” 

“It’d be nice to reunite them with the little (L/N) girl, wouldn’t it? The one they’d been on my back about marrying anyway?” He grinned, watching (Y/N)’s smile creep up her face. “I’m sure they saw what just happened anyway, mum’d be on my back if I didn’t pull you over there anyway.”

“I suppose you’re right,” (Y/N) said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go, then.”

The two walked hand in hand, not a care in the world for anyone but each other. They sat near Draco’s parents, smiling like idiots, watching the sunshine crawl over Narcissa’s face, the realization of happiness emitted in her son’s appearance. Lucius sat stiffly, unassuming to the whole affair, but proudly listened to (Y/N)’s quiet words of affection she had for his son.

Draco and (Y/N) continued to hold their hands, the feeling of warmth between their fingers radiated into their very hearts. Neither of the two were going to let go anytime soon, for they were not ignorant enough to let it happen again.

__

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[anxious-logic]

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@tsshipmonth2020

Day 24: When you meet your soulmate for the first time, you get a brief flash-forward of your future.

Ship: Romantic Intruceit, Platonic Creativitwins, background Logicality

Warnings: Homophobia, Remus is kicked out of his house for coming out, some swearing, brief mention of knives, message me for more detailed warnings if you like.

Word count: 2925

Summary: Remus comes out to his parents. It doesn’t go well.

Remus took a deep breath as he squeezed his brother’s hand.

“I love you,” he said. Roman squeezed back, looking up at Remus with worry.

“I love you too,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”

Remus didn’t say anything.

“It- it has to be. Right?”

Remus shut his eyes tight, tilting his head back. “I don’t think so,” he forced out.

Roman slumped forward, his forehead hitting Remus’ shoulder and his arms coming up around his chest. Remus pretended not to notice the wetness soaking into his shirt from his brothers’ tears. “I’m here,” he said. “I love you. I- I don’t know what else to say.” Roman was full-out crying now, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. “I’m sorry that- that I can’t do it too,” he said through the sobs.

“No,” Remus interrupted, his hands coming up to cradle Roman’s head. “You need to stay safe. I know I have places to go if I need to, friends who can take me in. You- you don’t have that. And you’re not ready. And that’s okay. You take as long as you need. And you don’t have to do something just because I do.”

He was rocking the two of them gently back and forth, feeling tears drip down his face into his mustache. He carded his fingers through Roman’s hair, pulling his brother closer to him.

“We’ll still go to school together, okay? We can still see each other if-”

“Don’t-” Roman said sharply, burying his head a little further into Remus’ chest.

“Okay,” Remus said softly, but he couldn’t help but finish his sentence in his mind.

If I get kicked out.

***

“Mother? Father?”

Remus fidgeted with the bottom of his shirt as his father looked up. He felt his mother’s hand touch his shoulder.

“Yes, Remus?”

He took a deep breath. “I have something I want to tell you.”

His father raised an eyebrow, looking up over his book. “What is it?”

Remus snuck a glance at Roman, whose face was pale. He was shaking slightly in his chair, a motion that was only barely visible to Remus.

“I…”

He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I’m gay.”

There was a moment where everything froze, and Remus thought that maybe it’d all be okay, it was fine, he was wrong-

“Pardon me?”

His father’s voice was sharp, his mother’s hand squeezing painfully tight on Remus’ shoulder. He tried to force down the knot in his stomach.

“I’m gay.”

Then all hell broke loose.

His mother yanked her hand away from his shoulder, her long nails scraping painfully against his skin. His father stood up, dropping the book to the floor, an imposing figure over where Remus was shrinking into his chair.

“How did you come to this conclusion?” his father asked, each word stabbing Remus in the stomach like a knife.

“How did you come to the conclusion that you’re straight,” Remus shot back, and immediately regretted it from the look on his father’s face.

“You will go to your room, and think about your choices,” his father said. It was so tight, so controlled, that Remus knew something bad was boiling under the surface.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Roman, stay here,” his father ordered, as both of the twins stood up. Roman dropped into his chair, shaking visibly now.

As Remus slowly walked up the stairs, his eyes taking in everything about this house, he did his best to ignore the lack of noise from downstairs. It would almost be better if it were screaming, shouting, breaking plates, anything to show how his parents were feeling.

What would happen to him?

He hadn’t exactly been telling the full truth when he’d told Roman that he had a place to stay if he got kicked out. He’d talked to an acquaintance, who was able to take him for a couple days, but he’d need to figure out somewhere else to go pretty quickly. He’d looked into youth shelters in the area; there weren’t many within walking distance of his school.

He mechanically started loading up his backpack and a duffel bag with clothes and little things he wanted to take with him. Even if he wasn’t kicked out for this, it would push him that much closer to the edge.

He sat down on his bed, pulling his knees up to his chest. He put up a hard shell, but… he’d really miss the house, his experiments, the pets outside his window.

His brother.

He was interrupted by a knock on his door. “Remus?” His mother’s voice called out. As he got up, he took one last look around his room.

He opened his door to see both of his parents standing in front of him. His mother was wringing her hands, standing slightly behind her father.

“We are giving you one hour to pack,” he said. “Then you will get out of this house, and we will not see you again.”

Remus bit his lip. “Okay,” he said quietly. He stepped back slowly, watching his parents walk away from him.

He was startled by his brother barreling headfirst into him. “I love you,” Roman said. “I’ll miss you, but I’m still here, okay? If you need anything- tell me, I’ll get it to you. We still have classes together, you said it, we’ll be okay.”

Remus’s arms came up around Roman. “I promise,” he said. “I’m all packed already, so we can just… talk together, for a bit, one last time.”

Roman bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay,” he whispered, his hand slipping down to hold Remus’s, his head tilting into the crook of Remus’s neck.

***

Remus hiked his bags up a little higher on his shoulder, looking back at the outside of his house. He would probably never get to go back inside.

He had a passing thought that he should probably be feeling something at that realization.

He slowly turned to trudge down the dimly-lit street, his feet dragging slightly. He felt his thoughts wander in every direction but the one they probably should have been going.

What would he do when he had to leave Virgil’s house?

He looked up as he reached the door, hand hovering over the doorbell. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of his bags shift on his back. He pushed the slightly glowing button, hearing the muffled ring that came from inside.

After a moment, Virgil opened the door, a happy smile on his face. When he saw Remus on the doorstep, his eyes widened and his smile vanished.

“Fuck,” he said, opening the door. He stepped forward to grab one of Remus’s bags. “Shit, Remus, are you okay?”

Remus gave him a slightly manic smile as they entered the house, leaving his shoes at the doorway. “I just got kicked out, what do you think?”

Virgil put Remus’s bag down in the corner of the dining room. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. I have some friends over tonight, they’re not really… my normal style? But I think that’s okay, they’ll like you, just… play nice, please? I don’t want to have to mediate between you?”

Remus decided not to argue the fact that Virgil assumed Remus would be the one starting any arguments, because, well, that wasn’t inaccurate.

“I’ll try,” Remus said, his fingers coming up to twirl his mustache. Virgil rolled his eyes at the action.

“Seriously, I don’t understand why you’re keeping the mustache,” he said as he led Remus to his bedroom. “It doesn’t look that good, it’s so… scraggly.”

Remus grinned. “That’s the point!”

As Remus walked into the bedroom, he saw two people in Virgil’s room. One of them was sitting on the floor wearing a gray cat onesie, their bubbling laughter filling the room. The other was standing over the other, wearing a polo shirt and a necktie. Their face looked serious, but when Remus looked closely, they appeared to be holding back a smile.

“Hey guys,” Virgil said, interrupting the two of them. They looked up at Virgil, the first one with an excited grin, the second one with a curious expression. “I have… an unexpected guest, I guess. This is Remus, he’s staying with me for a couple days.”

“Hi Remus!” the first person exclaimed, standing up and bouncing on their toes slightly. “My name’s Patton, he/him pronouns. Nice to meet ya, kiddo!”

“My name is Logan,” the other person introduced, holding a hand to Remus. “They/them, please.”

Remus took the offered hand, tilting his head as he shook it. “Whatcha in a tie for?”

Logan took a step back, their hand needlessly coming up to adjust the knot of the tie. “I prefer professional wear to casual. Pajamas are designated for sleeping. Therefore, if I am awake, I wear a necktie.”

Remus thought about it for a minute, then shrugged. “Whatever works for you,” he said happily. He plopped down on Virgil’s bed, feeling the comforter move underneath him.

Virgil sat down on the bed next to him, maybe a little closer than was exactly necessary. “Those two are soulmates,” he said, gesturing to Patton and Logan. “They can get disgustingly cute sometimes, it’s why I keep Janus around, he can third-wheel with me when they’re being all lovey-dovey.”

Remus’s lips twitched slightly. “Who’s Janus?” he asked, not being familiar with the name.

“He’s in the bathroom getting ready for bed right now,” Patton offered, his hand in Logan’s lap. They were absentmindedly tracing patterns on the back of his palm.

“Not anymore,” a new voice said. As Remus looked up at the new person, the first thing he thought was that’s a pretty face, before getting sucked out of his spot on the bed.

***

Janus whirled Remus around, a huge smile on his face. When he put the other man down, he tilted his head to press their foreheads together.

“I love you so much,” he said to Remus. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

Remus giggled, tickling Janus’s face with his mustache. “Roman’s my best man,” he said. “Patton can walk me down the aisle instead of the fuckers that birthed me, I get to wear a dress and I don’t care if you do too, and we’re going ring shopping approximately now.”

“Okay,” Janus said, shrieking a little as Remus hugged him so tightly his legs left the ground. As Remus put him down, he pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss.

“I love you,” Remus whispered as they came apart. “And I always will.”

***

Remus blinked himself out of the scene, not knowing how he was supposed to be feeling right now.

He’d met… his soulmate. On the day he’d been kicked out. During a sleepover he’d accidentally crashed.

“Janus? Remus? You okay?” Patton interrupted them, his head tilted inquisitively to one side. Logan had stopped brushing their fingers over his knuckles, instead looking at them with an off-putting intensity.

Remus looked to Janus, his eyebrows raised. “Apparently… we’re soulmates,” Janus said slowly, his voice smooth as melted chocolate, and that was not normally something Remus would think, what was going on?.

Patton squealed, jumping up and bouncing over to pull Remus and Janus into a hug. “That’s so amazing! I’m so happy for you!!”

Remus stiffened at the unexpected touch, slightly panicked. Janus glanced at Remus, and gently pushed Patton away.

“Thank you,” he said. “Possibly… could Remus and I have a bit of privacy to get to know each other a bit better?”

Logan stood up – Remus was slightly surprised by the gracefulness they exuded. “Of course,” they said, gently grabbing Patton’s hand. “Let’s make cookies,” they said, tugging on his arm. “As much sugar as you want, I have some of your favorite recipes memorized…”

As their voice faded out as they went downstairs together, Virgil turned to the two of them. “Listen, I don’t know either of you all that well, but if you either of you get hurt, I will kill you. Understood?” He looked at them both seriously.

“Understood,” Janus said, his voice sincere.

“Yeah,” Remus said, as he realized they were both looking at him. “I won’t hurt him, promise.”

Virgil nodded. “Good,” he said, exiting the room and closing the door. Remus went to turn to Janus when Virgil suddenly opened the door again.

“And don’t get up to any nasty shit in my room!”

Remus cackled as he pushed the door closed. He turned around to see Janus blushing a bright red, but his expression was contemplative. “I wouldn’t complain,” Janus said thoughtfully. Remus collapsed forward, laughing.

Then the laughter turned slightly hysterical, and Remus realized it wasn’t really laughter anymore.

Janus’s arms came up around him, rubbing gently up and down his back, as tears began trailing down Remus’s face. “Get it out,” he heard distantly. “It’ll be okay. Go ahead, don’t worry…” Remus just kept crying into Janus’s shirt, his tears soaking the black pajama shirt.

Remus sniffled as his tears started slowing. He fisted his hands in the back of Janus’s shirt, looking down at the snake-printed pants.

“I like your pants,” he said, his voice thick through the snot and tears still making their way out of his face holes.

“Thank you,” Janus said, his hands moving to Remus’s shoulders. “But… what was that about? If you’re comfortable talking about it, of course. No pressure, but it’s common that soulmates help each other when they break down crying into the other’s shirt for fifteen minutes.”

Remus jerked back, unintentionally meeting Janus’s eyes. “Fifteen- what?”

Janus shook his head firmly. “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering if there’s something going on that you want to talk to someone about.”

Remus bit his cheek, debating.

“If you’re not comfortable, I would recommend writing some of your thoughts down somewhere nobody else can see, because that seemed like it was caused by more than one incident or event. I’m not going to force you to say anything, but I would like to help you if possible.”

Remus backed up, wiping his face with one of his hands. The other was still desperately clutching Janus’s t-shirt.

“Can we sit down?”

“Of course,” Janus said, maneuvering the two of them onto Virgil’s bed, tucking his legs up underneath him. Remus did a kind of backwards belly-flop onto the bed, landing starfished with his face to the ceiling.

“What’s going on?” Janus asked gently.

Remus couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You make it sound like this is therapy or something,” he giggled. Janus just smiled down at him softly, and Remus couldn’t help but feel like he was melting into a gooey mess of… something, his brain wasn’t working right now.

“Really. What’s wrong?”

Remus took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to start.

“Um. I got- kicked out? Earlier tonight?” He heard Janus’s breath catch. “Yeah,” he said, staring at the ceiling. “I came out to my parents, they sent me to my room and told me I had an hour to pack before I was gone.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Worst part is, my twin brother’s gay too. He hasn’t come out, because he’s not ready, and that’s totally fine! But now he’ll be terrified to come out, and I don’t want that for him, because… he should be able to.” He paused for a minute, absentmindedly jiggling his legs where they were hanging off the bed. “I should have been able to. I should be in my bed right now, annoying Roman with my snoring, ignoring my homework. I should be listening to my pet raccoon outside the window. I should be thinking about what prank I’ll pull at school next. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be worrying about where I’m going to stay in three days. I shouldn’t be wondering if I’ll be sleeping on the streets in winter. I shouldn’t be kicked out for loving…”

He paused, slightly surprised by where his thoughts were going. Then he shrugged internally, and decided to go for it.

“I shouldn’t be kicked out for loving you.”

He looked over at Janus to see his reaction. He had frozen, a look on his face that Remus would call “besotted” if they hadn’t met less than an hour ago.

“Remus…” Janus started, before trailing off. “I can’t… guarantee anything. But if you told Patton and Logan what’s going on… they’d be able to figure something out with their families, I’m sure of it. Patton has a good family with a secure financial situation, and Logan knows practically everything. Between the two of them… I’m sure you could figure something out.”

Remus slowly sat up, thinking about what Janus was saying. “Really?” he asked quietly.

Janus reached over to grab his hand, flipping it palm up so that he could lace their fingers together. “Really.”

Remus leaned over to lay his head on Janus’s shoulder. “Okay. Virgil said he’d be able to keep me for a few days, but I’d have to figure something else out. So… I can get to know them both better, and ask them, and see what they can do?”

Janus turned his head into Remus’s hair, brushing his lips against the top of Remus’s head. “That sounds like a plan.”

Remus sighed as he closed his eyes, exhaustion setting in. “I just want to sleep,” he whispered.

He felt Janus smile into his hair. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Remus slipped off into sleep, secure in his soulmate’s arms.

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

to be treated this way - chapter i

pair: shownu x reader 

summary: When your alpha - sort-of - found his true mate, you’re stuck dealing with the aftermath and the coming of your next heat. So when your friend suggested a “dating service” to aid you, signing up seemed like a no-brainer. So, you’ve prepared yourself for the dominance, the adrenaline-fueled by fear and arousal and the constant out-of-this-world sex but when you meet Shownu, everything you know about Alphas is challenged. He’s soft - for the lack of better word. He cooks you meals, he takes you out on dates… all of which are not really necessary for an Alpha - Omega relationship… right? Whatever. You’d just really, really, wish he’d touch you now warning: this story may be slow-paced at the start, no other warnings for now - also, boo seungkwan’s appearance! a/b/o dynamics! 

Many poets and writers have tried, failed and came close to describing what true heartbreak is. Such fundamental human experience is so universal that many men and women across history have drawn inspiration from it and created amazing works of art - sculptures, plays, books and songs. At the back of your mind, you remember reading something like - “If nothing saves us from death, at least love should save us from life” and although it’s beautiful and you certainly want to be saved, you feel like it’s too dramatic to apply to your own situation.

Even though you certainly feel like dying right now.

Mouth dry and head pounding, you blearily open your eyes to the sight of your blinking alarm clock. The numbers 1:03 pm mocks you in all its inherent cheeriness. Underneath the cocoon of your warm bed, you squirm, sweating and uncomfortable – feeling like you just want to crawl out of your skin just to reach the itch between your skin and bones. Fists closing and unfurling, you try to resist the urge to scratch, knowing that there’s nothing to find beneath, nothing to offer you relief.

Kicking off your sheets, you try to reign in the uneasiness. At the back of your ears, you feel the itch worsen, crawling down your nape burning down its path. Rubbing yourself against the scratchy texture of your bedsheets feels like heaven and hell alternating between five seconds – the brief relief only highlighting the torment of your hormones tenfold.

Time seem to pass too slowly as you try to muster the strength to get up. But your body refuses to cooperate, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy. This is what you hate the most about suppressants, the side-effects feels like punishment for being born an omega. Your head feels like it’s submerged underwater, and you don’t hear your apartment door opening with a bang.

“I’m here!” Seungkwan sings, grocery bags hanging from his arms. His eyes roam your kitchen before landing on you through your open bedroom door. At the sight of you, his mood drops. ”Oh my god, what are you doing!”

Your best friend rushes over to you and grasps your wrists, quickly pulling it away from your arms.

Streaks of scratches marred your neck and arms while you tremble. He notes with a small amount of relief, that at least, you didn’t break skin.

Aish, this girl.

Relief flood you at the familiar smell of your friend and his cool hands, drawing away from the heat marked by your nails. You let him drag you up to your couch. Sitting down, he grasps your wrists with one hand and reaches for one of the grocery bags with his other.

“Next time I see him, I’m gonna kick him in the nuts.” Seungkwan swears, agitated. Between the two of you, there’s only one person he could be referring to. You wince at the thought of Geun-woo, the alpha who had once frequented your bed. Pulling you out of your thoughts, Seungkwan fishes out a sheet of tablets and pops one open for you.

Trusting you to control yourself, he lets go of your wrists and hands you a bottle of water from the same bag.

“It’s not his fault he found his true mate, Seungkwanie.” You sigh, after swallowing the pill. You don’t know if it’s placebo or not, but immediately, the irritating itch and heat under your skin recedes.

The beta rolls his eyes. True mates, bah – people throw it around like a free pass. “True mate or not, it doesn’t mean he gets to drop you like a hot sweet potato – which you are, sweet and you look like a potato, woman, get yourself together! – and ride off into the sunset. Any decent alpha knows that omegas need weaning –”

Seungkwan goes off on a rant that you’ve heard on loop for the past week.

Geun-woo was a friend from the university. As alphas tend to be, he was popular and well-liked by your peers. His designation spurred him to be in the best shape he could be, drove him to win championship after championship for your university football team. After graduation, he went on to train for the national team and was – is – on his way to being a national athlete.

You could talk on and on about who Oh Geun-woo is to many people, but you could summarize what he was to you in three words: not your boyfriend.

The arrangement between the two of you was simple. You were adults, busy people living busy lives interrupted almost monthly by your heats and ruts. It was a logical and practical way to ensure that neither of you spend your vulnerable biological ~events~ alone. It was a good arrangement and after two years of it, you could honestly call Geun-woo a good friend.

However, the downside with spending such time so often with someone you’re not bonded with is you develop what experts call, a quasi-bond. It has all the effects of being bonded but dialed down by almost a hundred. You think it’s an exaggeration but you, an unbonded omega, really isn’t in the position to do so.

So when, Geun-woo found his true mate at some meet abroad, he dropped you faster than you could blink.

You don’t blame him, but man, it sucks.

Seungkwan glanced at you, sighing at your silence. Sending a prayer above, he fishes his wallet and takes out a card. “I have a suggestion.”

With your heat coming at you, barreling in the next two weeks, you’re just about open to any suggestion so, you hum behind your coffee mug, “The floor’s yours.” Well, at least the little of it that’s still visible under your clothes and knick-knacks.

“Before you say anything, know that I am suggesting this out of the goodness of my heart. But why don’t you consider this?” Seungkwan implored, handing you the card.

The black and purple card reads; “SS Matching Services” and under it, their company motto; “We’ve got the match for you.” With their office address and contact number.

“A pimping service?”

“Ya,” Seungkwan protested, red-faced, “Take your 19th century standards out of the gutter.”

His adamant protest startles a laugh out of you. For the guy who used to glare at anyone holding hands in public, your best friend has grown well. “Actually, it was worse in the 19th century but go off, I guess.”

Seungkwan leveled you with a flat look that had you raising your hands in surrender. No good can come from antagonizing the guy who just quite literally saved your life. “I’m listening.”

“Look, it’s just an option and it’s legit. Tough screening process too.” He takes out his phone and shows you the company’s website. Briefly, you glance at it before taking the card. Physically, it weighs like nothing but in your mind, it weighs like something amazing.

“How’d you know that?”

“My sunbaenim, uses this from time to time. It helps with his ruts. Win-win.” Seungkwan shrugs. You wonder which sunbae he’s referring to, given his many hobbies.

The website doesn’t look like it’ll give your laptop a virus, you’ll give it that. It’s classy and clean, and no random photos of just naked torsos. Good sign.

“You’re surprisingly blasé about this.” You laugh, eyes warm and surprised at how maturely Seungkwan delivers, only to laugh out loud at the sight of his burning ears.

You promised Seungkwan that you’ll check out the site but as soon as you got back to work, everything just swept you away.

That’s what happens when you work with kids.

Eyes warm with fondness, you quietly pat the bottom of one of your snoozing students. It’s nap time and your classroom has turned into some sort of sleepover area with all your students wrapped up with their soft blankets, nuzzling into their softer pillows. The early afternoon light filters into the room through the curtains, painting over the children with a soft glow.

Across you, another teacher takes the opportunity to get some of her own sleep in, curling herself protectively around two kids. Your classroom smells like baby powder and sweet treats, littered with small pastel chairs and tables. Its walls decorated with your students artworks and colorful cartoon characters.

This, this is one of the many moments that remind you why you became a pre-school teacher.

Many of your peers assumed it’s because of your designation. Omegas are naturally more inclined to take positions that require caretaking, given the innate desire to give care to others. Just like alphas are more likely to take positions that require leadership.

However, you muse, cooing as the young beta in front of you snuggle closer to your lap, many tend to gloss over the many manifestations of one’s designation. It’s true that by virtue of being an omega, you’re naturally more inclined to take care of your peers. Your so-called softness being the defining quality of your group.

But your omega manifestation is… a bit different. Sometimes, it makes you wonder how you got hired as a preschool teacher in the first place.

“Teach’r, sleepy time?”

Glancing down, you see the young beta pout at you. Waving away your thoughts, you slide down to her side and let the afternoon light lull you to sleep. All thoughts about your heat fading away quietly.

Soon, naptime was over and so is the day. Parents slowly trickle in, one after another, to pick up their children. Most of them harried from work, but still smiling at you and your co-teachers in gratitude.

“See you tomorrow, Rahui!” You call, as the last student leaves.

The little girl in her puffy sweater turns and smiles at you sweetly. “Bye, bye, teacher! Sleepy time!”

You flush at your student’s comment much to her mother’s confusion. After falling asleep earlier, you’d woken up to a clean classroom and several of your students hovering over you. Your pre-heat symptoms felt like they’re coming too fast for your taste.

Waving her off with a smile, you untie your apron and walk to the staff room where the others are. It’s almost 6 pm, and your daily staff meeting’s in session. In front of the room is your superior, an older bonded omega, with deep dimples on her cheek.

“Good job today, everyone.” She starts off, smiling at the soft cheers from everyone. “As you know…”

Your superior continues on to talk about the children’s upcoming activities. Vaguely, you hear her talk about a field trip, or is it a field demo? Shaking your head, you try to clear your thoughts but it seem like everything’s underwater, and no sound is escaping from her lips.

“… right, y/n?”

Blinking, you focus, and sent her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Your superior smiles forgivingly, “I was asking about that self-defense class you’ve been wanting to teach. When would you like to schedule it? Of course, pending approval with everyone’s schedule.”

Immediately, a large smile appears on your cheek. It’s approved?? You’ve been proposing that seminar for months. Most of the omega teachers were wary of the thought but warmed up to it recently. Especially when you mentioned how it’ll help them protect their kids – their students – more.

“How about two weeks from now?”

“Anytime!” You offer. The enthusiasm isn’t lost on your co-workers, some of them shaking their heads in amusement.

Your superior looks over your office board and hums at the chart. It contains all your schedules, including leaves, conferences to attend and heat cycles. With one look, your heart drops.

“Actually…” you start off, wincing at the thought of inconveniencing everyone because of your biology. “My heat is coming up in two weeks…”

Surprisingly, or not, omegas are actually quite liberal in discussing things like this. It’s simply part of the biology you live with. So your mortification is unfounded as your co-workers nod in understanding, quickly suggesting different dates.

Your superior nods, and glances at your work log book. “Well, we could schedule maybe four weeks from now to get you time to recover? Don’t forget to file your leave.”

Right.

“I still can’t believe she flew you in for her rut.” Jooheon’s laugh and disbelief reaches Shownu’s ears before he even steps inside. Smiling to himself, he finds his friends lounging in his living room, completely comfortable and completely unexpected.

Jooheon looks up at his arrival, “Hi, hyung! We let ourselves in!” 

“I can see that.” Shownu nods in greeting, trying to remember who he gave his spare keys to. He’s pretty sure he didn’t make six copies of his set. Shrugging off his coat, he look on, realizing how his living room looks smaller with a bunch of guys occupying it. Jooheon and Minhyuk are on his couch, Changkyun’s on his stomach on the floor, playing with his phone and, Hyunwoo and Kihyun are by the window drinking a can of beer each. 

That’s one, two, three… four, five… 

“Hey, you’re home! And – are those protein bars?” The paper bag is snatched from his hand, before Shownu registers, blinking slowly as Wonho disappears once again into the kitchen. 

The smell of jajjangmyeon invades his senses. Ah, yes, guys’ night. 

Shortly after his arrival, everyone gathers in the dining room. With the two youngest improvising chairs out of the boxes Shownu hasn’t had the chance to unpack, having just moved into his new home a month ago. 

To the eldest’s surprise, everyone pitched in with dinner, bringing different dishes and filling the dining table. Assorted cuts of meat are sizzling over the portable electric grill Wonho brought, several small plates of side-dishes and… are those buttered crabs he’s seeing? “What’s this?” 

Minhyuk shoots him an amused glance over his beer, “You don’t really think we’ll let you off without a house warming, right?” 

Shownu blinks, a small bashful smile forming on his lips, “But I’ve been here a month.”

An arm wraps around his shoulder and a weight shakes him back and forth. Kihyun rolls his eyes, getting into his personal space. “This is the first time we’ve been complete for a month! Just enjoy it!” 

Jooheon hums, his cheeks filled with lettuce and meat from the grill. “Yeah, I mean, though it’s only Minhyuk-hyung that hasn’t been around, too busy getting his dick wet.” 

“Oi!” their youngest protests, ears burning and nearly spitting out his drink. “We are eating.” 

Wonho heartily “taps” Changkyun’s back, laughing. “We’re all adults here. It’s not as if you haven’t heard or said anything worse, Kyunie.” 

“Yeah, daddy~” Hyungwon hits, reminding everyone of one very particular incident in college that featured a younger Changkyun and a girl from the bar, and the very thin walls of their shared apartment. 

Changkyun flushes before rolling his eyes, “At least I get some. Can’t say the same to you.” 

Scoffing, Minhyuk raises his hands, “Excuse me, I have no problem with that.” 

Before Minhyuk starts to dive into his sexual exploits, Kihyun saves the day and shoves a piece of meat into his mouth and diverts the conversation to work.

Over food and drinks, Shownu and his friends catch up on their personal lives – not having as much time to get together as before. Not with Wonho’s celebrity coaching taking off, Jooheon and Changkyun’s new artist, Kihyun’s voice academy and Hyungwon’s and Minhyuk’s modelling. 

Sometimes, Shownu feels left behind by the big dreams his friends are living but every day, he wakes up and goes home happy as a chef and food blogger. His appetite thanking him for the career path he chose. Besides, as Changkyun said, he could go big time if he wants, it’s just a matter of self-promotion which he’s terrible at given his shy personality. 

Dinner passes by with a blur and they find themselves nursing their last beers when Jooheon circles back to Minhyuk’s vacation. 

“So, hyung. How does it feel to fulfill your sugar baby dreams?” The young alpha jokes, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he elbows Minhyuk. 

Stars appear in the latter’s eyes and with a dreamy sigh, he responds jokingly, “Just as I’ve always dreamed.” 

The one of the only two omegas of their group has never shied away from talking about his exploits, his looks and all the advantages he gets from it. Often, he jokes that’s why he became a model – to be admired and to fulfill his duties to the world and bless them with his godly looks. 

“She flew me to her family’s island, and we spent her rut and my heat underneath the blanket of stars.” Minhyuk recounts, all dreamy-eyed, “I felt really spoiled.”

“I bet.” Kihyun remarked, smirking. “Is this the girl you’ve been telling us about?”

Ignoring Hyungwon’s cough of which one, Minhyuk nods, “Yes!” and turns to Shownu, “She’s actually friends with Nayeon – who, by the way, is asking me about you, hyung.” 

Shownu blinks, before handing a can of beer to Wonho across him. “Me?” 

“Yeah, she asked why you never called her.” 

A chorus of ooh’s echoes in the room followed by a few gruff laughter. Shownu ducks his head and nurses his drink. Nayeon’s a nice girl, a model that he met when Minhyuk called in a favor for him to substitute as one of their shoot’s models after the original model called in sick. She gave him his number on a piece of paper before departing with a sultry look and a flying kiss. 

Contrary to popular belief, Shownu is not dense – or, more like, he’s not that dense. 

“Ah,” Shownu starts, “Um. I don’t think we’re looking for the same thing.” 

Wonho pauses and eyes him, before levelling the younger guys with a look that has them catching their teasing remarks and keeping it to themselves. Wonho has known Shownu the longest and knows that though his friend’s an alpha, physically, through and through, his disposition often throws people off. 

He’s soft when others are hard. Soft-spoken, patient like a saint and very careful with his actions and words. Wonho doesn’t even remember if he’s ever seen his friend get angry or aggressive in the span of their long friendship. 

A romantic at heart, through and through.

“Well,” Kihyun claps, breaking the quiet, “You know, no point in pursuing something that you know’s a dead end, right?”

Minhyuk pouts, sometimes a little bit insensitive in his enthusiasm, “But she’s cute! And she’s an omega too! Besides – wait—how do you even deal with your ruts?” 

Shownu’s face lights up like a lantern, the drinks doing nothing about the flush crawling up his neck. It’s not like he’s never spent it with someone, but every time, after the week of his rut, he always feel tired and empty. So for the past ruts, he’s been dealing with it - “Alone, with suppressants.”

“Yah, I thought you’d stopped taking those!” 

Constant use of suppressants for an alpha fucks up their cycle and even their moods. Wonho knows this the best because he was on it for several months back in college, before he started becoming confident enough in his newfound muscles and height. 

“I did.” Shownu nods, assuring his friends. “I don’t use them anymore. Just when I’m… you know. It’s just easier to deal with.”

All the alphas in the room scoff under their breaths. Yeah, it’s easy if easy felt like walking and dancing on hot coal in the middle of the hottest summer day. It’s not as if their eldest can’t get a woman just by standing by the bar, being his awkward self. 

At their little corner, Jooheon and Changkyun glance at each other, years of friendship evident in their wordless communication. Changkyun tilts his head, eyes widening and jaw clenched, “Go”, he mouths. 

Jooheon pouts, “Do you know how hard it is to get into their mixers, punk?” 

Shrinking at Changkyun’s flat stare, Jooheon rolls his eyes and sends a prayer to the universe asking for good karma. 

“Hyung, what do you think about dating services?” 

Notes: The stage is set for our two protagonists! I tried to incorporate as much world-building and character backgrounds as I can without it being over the top. Please leave comments and asks! :) I’m trying to stick to weekly updates. Also, support Monsta X’s next comeback! 

[when-they-write-stuff]

❛   fuck !  put  the  gun  down !  please , come on !  it’s  me ,  alright ?  ❜

Stiles had seen a gun pointed at his face one too many times. But he’d never expected Derek to be one of the faces behind the trigger.

Things started to turn strange when Derek vanished for a solid three days and then came back with no explanation. Now, Stiles was pissed and he made his pissed off-ness very obvious, but Derek just brushed him off as usual. It was ‘werewolf stuff’ he claimed because apparently the man couldn’t do any better than that.

Stiles really didn’t know why he reacted anymore. It wasn’t like this was new exactly.

Derek disappeared when he wanted to and he showed up when he felt like it. Sometimes, Stiles would only realize Derek had been gone for an entire week because one— or all— of his betas would show up in Stiles’s bedroom at night whining like a bunch of lost puppies.

Stiles knew Derek did things like this. But when the man came back this time around, he was different. He was wrong.

The beta’s reactions made Stiles realize he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.

They stopped hanging out at the loft and started hanging out in his bedroom instead. When Stiles asked why, even Erica got quiet. Boyd only shook his head.

Something was wrong, the beta said. Derek wasn’t acting like himself.

Stiles decided to take matters into his own hands.

He’d had a lot of bad ideas in the past but this might have been one of his worst ones. The next time he suspected the local Alpha werewolf of not being himself, he was going to do a lot more research and studying first. Because Stiles ran headfirst into the entire situation without even thinking about it first.

If he would’ve stopped and thought, he might not have run headfirst into the situation at all. Maybe. Probably.

No, he definitely still would have.

Stiles started hanging around the loft even when the betas weren’t there. He studied Derek extra carefully and mentally cataloged every strange thing he did. For the most part, that wasn’t much. Derek still grunted and growled when Stiles was around. He flashed his red eyes when he was irritated and snarled when he was more than that.

But then Stiles called him Sourwolf and Derek looked… shocked.

Stiles realized something was wrong then.

Not because Derek was particularly fond of the nickname. Stiles knew for a fact Derek wasn’t. But the man had given up long ago making Stiles drop it and now he just rolled his eyes whenever it came into play, and occasionally looked like he was about to smile. Sourwolf was their joke. Their… thing.

This time, Derek just looked at him like Stiles had lost his mind. Or maybe grown horns or something. Much like the first time Stiles had called him it in the abandoned school parking lot.

Something was wrong, Stiles realized. And he was determined to figure out what.

That was his first mistake.

The second was probably snooping around the loft. Stiles purposefully waited until both Derek and the Camaro were gone before he snuck up into Derek’s loft two days later and decided to look around. He started in the living room, moved through the kitchen and beta’s rooms, and ended up in Derek’s bedroom.

Stiles couldn’t help but feel a little awkward standing in the doorway. He shuffled his feet and glanced around before forcing himself to move forward.

He went through Derek’s closet and drawers. Tried not to laugh when he found an unmistakable pair of Batman boxers. Then he turned toward Derek’s bed and froze as he noticed the claw marks on his bedposts. They dug in deep to the wood and looked recent. 

There were some on the floor too, Stiles noticed. And what looked like blood spotting across the carpet in certain areas. He continued to search around with a thudding heart and then heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening and slamming shut.

Stiles froze.

For a moment, he debeated diving underneath the bed. But that would be stupid. Derek— if this was Derek— was a werewolf. The man would easily be able to scent him out.

So Stiles did the only other logical thing. He threw himself into Derek’s bed, pulled up the covers, and closed his eyes right as Derek’s bedroom opened again.

Stiles felt Derek’s gaze zero in on where he laid. He tried to keep his breathing steady and Derek just stood there for a moment, staring at him. Stiles’s nose suddenly itched. His eyes started to water as the feeling grew worse and worse. His fingers twitched underneath the covers and he nearly broke the facade just to provide himself some relief— when Derek barked his name.

Stiles’s eyes flew open and he tried to go for dizzy and disorientated, scratching at his nose wildly. He blinked a few times at Derek and then sunk his teeth into his lower lip.

“Ah, Derek.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Me?”

“Yes, Stiles,” the man said, glaring. “You.”

“Clearly, I’m sleeping,” Stiles said, looking pointedly around. He pushed himself up and nimbly leaped out of Derek’s bed, patting the man on the arm as he passed him. “You’ve got quite a nice bed, Sourwolf, props for that. But I’d invest in a fan or something if I was you. It got a little stuffy.”

Derek seemed to be speechless, which Stiles supposed was a win. He made for the loft door before Derek could snap back to his senses and possibly kill him, and hurried all the way back outside before he dared take a deep breath.

Stiles paused for a moment and shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’d done it. He hadn’t died. And he more sure now that something was wrong.

Baby steps.

Stiles went from baby steps to one giant leap.

It started when he spotted Derek’s Camaro creeping through Beacon Hills. Stiles had headed out with the plan to tackle some grocery shopping but when he spotted Derek looking like a literal creeper, Stiles decided some things were more important.

So he started following Derek instead. And he was more than surprise to see the man circle the school twice, drive past the road leading to the Hale house three times, and then come to a stop in front of the Argent’s house five minutes later.

Stiles knew it was empty. Scott and his mom were supposed to be entertaining Chris and Allison tonight, as the young werewolf had told him a dozen times. Scott was pretty sure he was going to die.

Stiles didn’t know if Scott was going to be the one dying this time.

He didn’t know how to react as Derek climbed out of his car and started toward the house. But the man didn’t go through the front door or anything. Instead, he pulled himself onto the roof and proceeded to duck in through Allison’s cracked window. 

Stiles sat in his jeep for a second and just stared. He didn’t know how to react or what to do. He could call Scott but Scott might tell Chris, and Stiles didn’t that would end well at all. He could attempt to follow Derek, but Stiles already knew there was no way he was pulling himself onto the Argent’s roof.

So he approached the front door instead. Stiles’s heart thudded against his chest and he was pretty sure Derek would either hear or smell him coming. But maybe then Stiles could at least get some answers.

Because Derek was acting beyond a little weird. He was acting wrong.

Stiles, in his ADD spirals, had learned a lot of things. He’d learned how to hotwire a car, speak all the Polish curse words, and how to pick a lock with the paperclip he always kept in his pocket.

Soon, Stiles was creeping into the Argent house. He kept expecting an alarm to go off or maybe an angry Derek to come out of nowhere and slam him against a wall. But none of that happened. 

Stiles wandered around the house and peered into each room, eventually ducking into what must only be Chris’s office. And then he froze, throwing his hands up with a yelp as his heart leaped into his throat.

“Oh my god, Derek! Put that down!”

Because Derek was holding one of Argent’s pistols and the barrel was facing Stiles’s head. There was an audible click as the werewolf loaded the gun and Stiles squeaked, his chest constricting with panic.

“Fuck, Derek, put the gun down! Please, come on. It’s me, alright? It’s me!”

“It’s not you,” Derek growled. “It’s never you.”

Stiles didn’t know what the hell that was supposed to mean. But he squeezed his eyes shut and Derek’s finger turned white around the trigger and he never thought he would’ve seen himself in this position. 

Stiles had seen a gun pointed at his face one too many times. But he’d never expected Derek to be one of the many faces behind the trigger.

It was terrifying and it was painful at the same time.

“Derek,” he said, voice cracking. “Derek, Sourwolf, please. Put the gun down.”

And silence was his answer.

Stiles cracked open an eye to see Derek looking at him in shock. The man’s hold on the gun was trembling and he lowered it an inch, eyes flashing red. “Say that again.”

“P-please put the gun down?”

“The other thing.”

“Sourwolf,” Stiles said softly. “Derek, Sourwolf, please put the gun down.”

The man’s hand trembled harder. He slowly lowered it and moved across the room, taking one of Stiles’s hands. Stiles made a sound of surprise as Derek turned it over and counted his fingers, then grabbed Stiles’s other hand and did the same.

“Derek,” Stiles said quietly. “Dude, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“There’s something wrong with my head,” Derek said, eyes still fixed on Stiles’s fingers. “The witch did something to my head—”

“Wait, hold on, witch?”

Derek froze and glanced back up guilty. Stiles pulled his hands away and stared at the man.

“That’s where you were? That’s why you’ve been acting so weird? Dude, I’ve been researching my ass off for the past week because of a witch?”

“I’m having dreams,” Derek mumbled. “Except they’re not dreams. And you’re always there and you… you…” He trailed off and Stiles blinked a few times. Then carefully, he took Derek’s hand again.

“Derek, what did the witch do?”

Derek didn’t say a word, focused on the floor. Stiles squeezed his hand tighter.

“Sourwolf, talk to me.”

“She’s messing with my anchor,” Derek said quietly. “Making me see things that aren’t true. Making me do things so they’ll go away. Trying to tear what grounds me to shreds.”

“Your anchor? But if you’re seeing—” Stiles suddenly froze and Derek looked nervously back up. Stiles stared at him until a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Derek, am I your anchor?”

“Shut up.”

“And what, Sourwolf is a thing? Oh my god, Derek, is that like a kink? Is me calling you Sourwolf a turn on? You like that nickname! I always knew you were smiling when I used it.”

Derek gave him a flat look. Stiles couldn’t help snorting fondly.

“You’re such a softie, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“You just had a gun to my head, I think I’m allowed to call you dude.”

Derek tensed. “Sorry.”

“Hey— it’s fine. I’m just glad I’m still in one piece and all of that. But there’s gotta be a way we can fix this, right? So you’re not, y’know. Acting like a crazy psycho anymore.”

Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles chewed on his lower lip, glancing at him.

“Is it one of those… kiss and break it things?”

The result was instant. Derek’s face turned bright red and his eyes rounded. Stiles threw his hands up, a little nervous Derek would grab the gun again. But the man just stared at him like Stiles had grown horns. Stiles shrugged.

“Or not?”

“Stiles.”

“... Yes, Sourwolf?”

“You’re such an idiot.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but then Derek’s lips were against his. Stiles squeaked in surprise, more shocked than anything that had worked at all. But before Derek could change his mind, Stiles cupped the back of his neck and kissed the man harder, bringing forth a low grow that vibrated all the way down Stiles’s spine.

He smiled around Derek’s lips and when the man drew back an inch, panting, Stiles grinned wider. “Did it work? Or are we going to need to see Deaton?”

“Please never talk about Deaton while I’m kissing you again.”

“So it that a yes or—”

Derek moved forward and caught his lips again and Stiles pretty sure this was very irresponsible. He was pretty sure kissing didn’t break spells, but he wasn’t complaining right now. Not one bit. Still though, the next time Derek snuck off for ‘werewolf stuff’ Stiles was so sneaking along.

The Sourwolf needed him, it seemed.

- -

I was hoping someone would send this one just so I could figure out how to write it. The fluff was unintentional. It usually is. But thank you for the prompt, friend!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? Seriously, I’d adore you guys so much). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer