#this might come out of left field but been having brain troubles again and fell victim to the youtube algorythm presenting me with turtles

[ganondoodle]

been going down quite the youtube rabbit hole about animals- first turtles then sheep shearing and now horses, however it gets weird with horses really quickly ... to me at least (im not religious at all and when someone starts talking about god and asking for prayers every video it gets sus to me ), or maybe its just the youtube algorythm;

whatever it is i thought i'd ask my trusty tumblr people about if you know any good channels about horses, especially draft horses and rare breeds, im not a .. horse girly(?) or something but i just find big creatures like that very interesting and draft horses have that giant shaped and chonky 'design' im generally drawn to in character designs

(i dont like horse sports at all though, its about the creature and not its training for me and the whole industry of that feels just as off as other competitions to do with animals, also dont want wild caught stuff ..... generally i also like bovines(?) alot but not about dairy or meat but the more "wild" ones, giant horns and a form that feels a little less shaped by people to maximize their profit, if that makes sense, but im guessing thats even harder to find, mentioning cant hurt though .. i think)

[likeahorribledream]

On The Run

Request: ''I had a bad dream'' with Steve Rogers. - @fangirllife98

Summary: After the incidents from Civil War, you and Steve are on the run together.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader / Nomad!Steve x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning: Nothing triggering, I think? I suck at warnings. There isn't any physical description for the reader.

Notes at the end.

+ This is not proofread, I apologize in advance for all the mistakes you're about to see.

Steve Rogers had been your friend since he had come out of the ice. You used to work for SHIELD but you were neither an agent or an Avenger, you worked in the medical field and you had been hired to monitor Steve’s health until he woke up and after. You spent a lot of time with him and quickly became close friends. You both have very similar personalities and it made it very easy to get along. He could spend hours talking to you about his life from before and he could listen to you for hours as you tried to explain to him everything that was new and different.

He loved that you weren’t an agent or an Avenger, it allowed him to have his own little escape from that part of his life whenever it got to be too much. You were, and still are, one of his best friends and he trusts you with his life.

When he decided to go look for Bucky, he wanted you to come with him. In case Bucky needed medical help, you were the only person he’d trust around his childhood best friend. Of course, you went with him. You had listened to Steve tell you hundreds of stories about the trouble he’d get into with his friend, Bucky was too important for him to refuse to go look for him with Steve.

You hadn’t expected to become fugitives of the law, yet here you are a year later; running and hiding with Captain America.

Steve brought Bucky to Wakanda so that he could heal and understand what exactly happened to him, when he came back the feud between him and Tony was far from being over and since he went against the Sokovia Accords, he found himself on the other side of the law and since you had helped him, you were considered an accomplice and were on the ‘’wanted’’ list next to Steve’s name. Tony could have gotten them out of it but when Steve chose Bucky over him, he decided to let him fend for himself. Steve had given you a choice; he could get you a place to live in another country where you’d be safe from the authorities or you could stay with him but that meant you would have to constantly be on the move.

You’d much rather be constantly on the move with your friend, than staying in one place in a country you didn’t know without being able to see him for who knows how long, the choice had been very simple and easy for you.

After a year, the heat had died down and it allowed you to stay in one place for longer periods of time. Steve had grown a beard and let his hair get longer, it made it harder for people to recognize him. Not a lot of people knew what you look like, but you decided to dye your hair from time to time just in case someone might recognize you.

A few days ago, you and Steve went back to New York. It’s Steve’s safe place and it’s so crowded, it makes it hard for anyone to recognize either of you. Steve had found a shady motel in a shady part of town that accepted to be paid in cash, no IDs required and no questions asked. You each had a room, a door connected them and you always left it opened just to keep an eye on each other.

It’s hard to sleep. You haven’t had a single good night of sleep since you left with Steve, you were scared that if you fell into too deep of a sleep, you wouldn’t hear if someone came for you.

Tonight is your third night in a row at this motel, you were tired of eating food from the vending machines so you decided to go get some takeouts for dinner. Steve doesn’t like when you go out on your own but it was too risky for him to go with you, that’s why you mainly ate food from vending machines. After dinner, you took showers in your respective rooms. After your shower, you put on a pair of sweats and a tank top and sat on your bed, waiting for Steve to join you to watch a movie.

‘’Come on, old man.’’ You called out towards his room.

He was taking his time and you were anxious to get the movie started.

His head poked out from his bathroom door, his hair completely drenched.

‘’That nickname wasn’t funny years ago when you used it for the first time, and it’s not funny now.’’

You laughed and pointed at your smile. ‘’Speak for yourself, I personally think it’s funny.’’

He rolled his eyes.

‘’Come on, Stevie. I’m tired.’’

Steve squinted as he looked at the alarm clock on your nightstand. ‘’It’s barely 8:30. How am I the old man here?’’

‘’You were born at the beginning of the 1900s, I was born at the end of the 1900s thus making you old.’’

‘’Well, give me 5 minutes and I’ll be right there. You can start the movie, I’ll still be able to hear it from here.’’ He told you, going back into the bathroom but leaving the door slightly opened.

You did as he said, you pressed play on the movie you had chosen earlier and sat with your back against the headboard, pillows behind you to make it more comfortable.

Five minutes later, Steve emerged from the bathroom and sat down next to you. He lifted his arm to let you snuggle up against his body and then laid it on your back, his hand resting on your hip.

Movie night always meant cuddle time.

Though you loved Steve with all of your heart and he loved you with all of his, the last few months had started to get rough for the both of you. You had never realized how much you were fond of hugs and human touch until you couldn’t do either. You came to a mutual understanding that, to keep your sanity, you would have cuddle time and it had sincerely helped better both of your moods.

Once the movie was over Steve turned off the TV, gave you a kiss on your forehead and went back to his room for the night. As soon as the lights were off, you fell asleep.

You were woken up a few hours later by something touching your foot above your covers. You quickly opened your eyes and relaxed when you saw Steve standing at the foot of your bed.

‘’What’s wrong?’’ Your voice was barely audible as you were still half asleep.

‘’I- I had a bad dream. Really bad. Can I stay with you?’’ He whispered.

You could hear how anxious he was and that woke you up. You grabbed the covers that were around your shoulders and lifted them up. Steve quickly walked around the bed and joined you, settling under the sheets. You waited until he was completely laid down and lowered the covers on top of both of your bodies.

‘’Are you ok?’’ You whispered.

You were laying on your side, facing him while he was laying on his back, looking at the ceiling. He turned his head and looked at you. His eyes were looking at every detail of your face, trying to burn this image of you into his brain so he’d never forget how beautiful you looked in this exact moment.

Steve’s had a crush on you since the first day he met you. At first he didn’t think too much of it, thinking it was just because you were the first woman he’d seen in over 70 years. Then, you two became really close friends and his feelings only got stronger throughout the years but he was going through a lot and he didn’t think it was fair of him to drag you into his problems so he decided to wait before telling you how he felt. He was finally gathering up the courage around the time Bucky resurfaced and before he knew it the two of you were on the run and he was terrified to confess his feelings to you and that you’d reject him. You two literally only had each other, he couldn’t risk ruining your friendship. Not when it was the only thing keeping the both of you completely sane.

You were both so oblivious, it was almost painful. Steve thought he’d ruin your friendship by telling you how he felt and you were keeping your very similar feelings to yourself because you didn’t think you were good enough for Steve Rogers, America’s Golden Boy. Though you tried not to let it show, you were a very insecure person and you barely felt like you were good enough to be friends with him, there’s no way he’d ever see you as girlfriend material.

‘’I don’t think I am.’’ He finally answered, whispering too.

He laid on his side to face you. It was pitch black in your room, but street lamps outside still managed to peak out from between the blinds, allowing you to see Steve’s face a little better. Whereas with his enhanced everything, Steve could see you very clearly.

‘’What do you need?’’ You asked softly.

‘’You.’’ He answered without hesitation.

You had one hand tucked under your head and you reached out to the other one, brushing your fingers against his jawline soothingly.

‘’I’m right here.’’

He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle touch on his jaw. When he opened his eyes again, he reached out over to you to wrap his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to his chest. You were so close to him that you had to tilt your head back to be able to look at him while he had to look down. You moved your hand to the back of his head and played with his hair that was still a little damp from his shower earlier.

‘’Do you want to talk about your dream?’’ You offered knowing that sometimes talking about it helped him.

He shook his head no, his eyes on you and never looking away.

‘’I don’t want to talk.’’

His hand that rested at the small of your back was now moving up to cup the side of your face, using his thumb to gently stroke your cheek.

Somehow, Steve’s face felt closer than it had a few seconds ago. Your heart started racing and you were sure he could hear it. His thumb moved down, the pad of his finger brushed over your lower lip a few times. It sent shivers down your spine. Steve leaned down a little more, his thumb going back to rest on your cheek. His eyes kept flickering between your lips and your eyes. He was ready to stop at any sign of you being uncomfortable. He gently brushed his nose against yours and when you didn’t pull away, he finally kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt your cheeks heat up. Steve didn’t leave you enough time to kiss him back, as he pulled away quickly. Your eyes opened, scared to see the regret on his face but instead all you could see was how nervous he was.

‘’Is this ok?’’

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your voice to function properly. He quickly closed the gap between the two of you, this time giving you a chance to kiss him back. Both your eyes were closed, his thumb started moving on your cheek again and your hand that was in his hair slowly slid down his neck, then his chest to finally move under his arm and rest on his back. The kiss was slow, as if Steve was afraid to hurt you, but you both could feel all the emotions and feelings that you hadn’t had the courage to confess being put into this kiss. He pulled back, just enough to give you a chance to breathe. Both the kiss and how loved you felt leaving you a little breathless.

He looked at you and waited until you opened your eyes. The look in his eyes made your breath hitched in your throat. He had so much love in his eyes that you thought your heart was going to melt in your chest. He rested his forehead against yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

‘’You.’’ He echoed his thoughts from earlier. His voice was barely audible but he was so close that you could hear him perfectly. ‘’I just need you.’’

I am a big sucker for Nomad!Steve, look at that glorious beard!

I hope this wasn't too cringey. This was my FIRST TIME writing a kissing scene, so please be kind. I know it was probably really bad, I'm sorry!

Thank you to my dear @fangirllife98 for requesting this. I hope you liked it and that it fed your little Steve hunger for the day.

[Taglist: @n3ssm0nique | @lover-of-bucky | @beingagodsucks ]

If you want to be added to a taglist; Bucky taglist, Steve taglist, Missing Piece taglist, Blood Moon taglist or just the general taglist just let me know in the comments or DM me.

[choptop-sawyer]

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

[panda-noosh]

   draco doesn’t remember how or why he fell in love with you.

   it wasn’t supposed to happen. not at all. his entire life, he has been prepared for an arranged marriage, something examined by his father, picked apart and carefully chosen to ensure the malfoy line is carried on only by the best, most pure wizards the world has ever seen. from a young age, draco was prepared to put up with whoever his parents decided was good enough for him.

    but he grew up.

   he grew up, and he went to school, and life became his own. without his parents swarming his every move, he was free to do whatever he wanted, like whoever he wanted, and that was very dangerous ground for a boy as curious as him. never wanting to disappoint his parents, but wanting that freedom, too - it was never going to work in his favour. 

    you came to hogwarts during his third year, a third year yourself having just transferred from another wizarding school in britain. a smaller wizarding school, and draco remembers walking through the halls, listening to people snicker about how far behind you were, how little you knew. he didn’t even know who you were at that time, as he was yet to have any classes with you, but he was prepared to experience the same amusement as the rest of his classmates upon initial meeting.

    “snape had a field day with them,” said pansy, over a bowl of porridge at breakfast one day. “absolutely shocking how little they taught them at that old school they’ve come from.”

   draco snickered. “what did snape do?”

   “he was about to kick them out,” replied blaise. “honestly, draco, just wait till you see them. it’s hilarious.”

    and so, draco prepared himself the entire day for the moment he would finally get to witness the reason behind his friends amusement for himself. classes ticked by in a blur, him scribbling down notes carelessly, knowing full well he would have to copy off his friends later on; for today, he didn’t care. he just wanted to get to astrology, the one class he knew he had with you.

   when the bell rang for final class, draco all-but sprinted to the astrology tower. throwing open the door, his grin widened, his excitement spilling over, a snide remark already forming on his smirking lips-

   a snide remark that died the instant he saw you seated upon one of the pillows strewn across the floor.

    because you are everything he didn’t expect. you are nothing like the image he had conjured in his head, the image of stupidity, a dopey face and a clueless gait, someone he could make fun of without feeling terribly sorry about it.

    but you’re not that at all. you’re small, and not in the sense that you’re particularly short. you’re short in the sense that overwhelms draco with the sudden need to protect you from everything and everyone. you’re small in the sense that you clearly understand you have been the butt of the joke since you arrived at hogwarts, and the comments aren’t exactly helping you get comfortable.

    his falter didn’t last long. people started bustling into the classroom, forcing him to his seat even as his eyes never left you. you hadn’t even looked up, too busy staring at the hands in your lap, the hands that hadn’t stopped twisting and twitching the entire time. you wore a set of rings - one on each finger - and usually this fashion choice would have been a bit over the top in draco’s opinion, but the rings glistened on your fingers, complimented each and every one, even as you pulled them off and replaced them in that nervous way he found himself so entranced with. 

   you were seated on a pillow directly in front of the window, and even though the classroom was fairly dark - easier for trelawney to teach the planets in the dark - there was a soft glow spread across your cheeks, illuminating your cheekbones, making your eyes glisten every time you looked up. it left his heart thumping, a feeling most uncomfortable when he had never felt it before.

    but from that day on, his heart thumped every time he saw you. his hands got clammy. his throat became dry, and he often found himself shamelessly leaning against a locker, or saying something witty in the hopes you would like his voice, stop and talk to him, compliment him on his oh-so original humour.

    his friends started to catch on, but by the second week, draco was past the point of caring. no longer did he try to hide his affection for you, an affection that didn’t even make sense, because you had never even given him the time of day. you walked past him with your head ducked down. you didn’t speak to him in class. you got on with your life all on your own, and honestly, that was part of the reason draco was so enamoured by you.

   one of the many, many reasons.

    after two weeks, his resolve was starting to disappear. he couldn’t just ignore you. he couldn’t keep himself contained for much longer, a desire he had never felt before springing to the forefront of his very being. he’s always been so content with his friend group, but he wanted to speak to you, wanted to hear your voice just the once.

    and so he found you in the library on that fateful tuesday afternoon. he had no classes, astrology having been cancelled as trelawney claimed the spirits were telling her it was a bad day to come to work. draco usually took his free periods as a chance to go out and practise some quidditch moves, but this day he needed to make an exception. the team could make do without a seeker for a little while.

    he pushed into the library, offering the librarian a keen smile and a nod; she merely scowled, but she does that to everyone, so draco didn’t think too much into it. his brain was elsewhere, anyway.

    he flew through the library, ducking his head into the shelves in search of you. in minutes he found you, curled up in an arm chair by the fire, a thick leather bound book on your lap. as per usual, you didn’t even look up when draco approached, eyes glued to the novel, finger tracing the words in an attempt to stop the cramped, tiny sentences from getting jumbled up.

    he cleared his throat. your head flinched up.

    you stared at him a moment, thumb placed upon your bottom lip. it was endearing in the worst way, making something stir in draco’s stomach.

    he cleared his throat again and said, “hello,” because he’s always been fairly certain that was the best way to start a conversation.

    you blinked. “hello.”

   “draco malfoy.”

   you nodded. “i know.”

   his heart thundered. he was certain you could hear it, could probably see the sweat dotting his brow, too. “oh. great.” he rubbed the back of his neck. “what’s your name?”

   “y/n l/n,” you replied. “is everything okay? you look a little ill, if you don’t mind me saying.”

    he didn’t. he didn’t mind at all. 

    “everything’s fine,” he said, before gesturing to the empty seat to your left. “do you mind if i sit?”

    “be my guest.”

   he sat down. “you don’t mind the company?”

    “i like meeting new people.” you looked down, biting your lower lip. draco was overcome with the sudden desire to reach over and grab your hand. “i haven’t got many friends around here, you know. it’s nice to finally speak to someone.”

    draco’s chest tightened. he remembered the comments, the snickers, his initial plans to make fun of you just like everyone else had been doing. 

   but then he remembered your face in trelawney’s classroom, the faux light dancing across your cheekbones, that twinkling laugh you let out when trelawney got one of her predictions wrong and was gravely embarrassed about it. 

   “but that’s not important,” you piped up when draco failed to pull himself together in time to respond. “how have you been finding everything? i know you’re on the quidditch team - what’s that like?”

    and so the conversation bloomed, draco loosening up with every passing moment, every phrase where he could fit in a question. he learned more and more about you, tiny facts that would usually hold no weight whatsoever, but facts he suddenly cherished - your favourite colour, where you’re from, the names of your parents, a pair of muggles who raised you to believe you were normal until your powers started to show.

    at some point, you said, “i know the malfoys aren’t big fans of wizards who aren’t pure bloods.”

    draco’s face warmed. “yeah, well...”

   “are you going to get in trouble for talking to me?”

   “probably.” he leaned back, crossing his leg across his own knee. “i don’t care, though. they’re not here right now, are they?”

    so no, draco does not know the exact moment he fell in love with you. he doesn’t know how, or why, or when, but he knows it happened. at some point during this strange, spontaneous relationship, he fell in love with you, and has been unable to shake himself out of it.

   it might be because you’re beautiful. it might go deeper than that. it might be because he’s never felt so comfortable with anyone in his entire life. it might be because, for the first time ever, he doesn’t care what his parents think. for the first time ever, he is more than willing to make his own decisions, to go against everything he has ever been told just to sit with you for one more day, one more minute, one more second. 

   and it’s not like these feelings crashed upon him all at once. it was gradual, an almost painful experience, an extraction of his sourness, replaced by this. . . fondness? this love. this love for a person so different to him, a person so unexpected, a person that shouldn’t fit so well into his life, but does so.    

[my-kindred-spirit]

Which is your favourite flower, Kaz?

Summary: Two years after the ending of Crooked Kingdom, Kaz and Inej enjoy a well-deserved moment of peace and happiness in Kaz's farm, surrounded by the beauty of nature. They reflect on their past and the healing they've done, as well as on their feelings for each other. 

Pairing: Kaz x Inej 

Basically, this is just pure FLUFF!!!

INEJ

Inej had always loved looking at the sky. When her mind was still young and naïve, she used to imagine herself walking between the clouds on a white sparkly tightrope, leaving behind her a silver trail decorating the silent sky. She used to dream of her spirit hanging in the air and her soul flying free in the blue infinity of the firmament, with a smile printed on her face and the lightness that is conferred only by liberty sculpted in her heart.    

When her mind was trying to survive the horrors that Fate had destined to her, Inej still looked at the sky. Ketterdam’s sky was grey, opaque with the steam of the cities and almost threatening in his abyssal vastness. It wasn’t arid though. It was very much alive, reached day and night by the laughs of the tourists wandering through the narrow streets of the Barrel, by the drunken songs of the men wasting themselves in the taverns and the joyful or frustrated shouts of the ones playing in the gambling halls. But the sky was also the inevitable witness of the desperate pleas of people being defrauded or robbed, of the painful cries of some poor souls abandoned by the Saints and doomed to a fate of violence and sorrows, of the desperate sobs of girls violated in the brothels. 

Read it on AO3 here!

The sky had never been reached by the Wraith’s voice though. She liked to contemplate it in silence, sitting on Ghezen’s thumb and savoring all the memories of when the clouds looked softer. She had actually hanged in the air and flied as the most elegant and gracious of the birds, but her stage had been roofs and chimneys, not clouds. Her curtain had been a grey and opaque sky, not a bright and azure one. Still, she had defeated gravity, even if not how she had dreamt as a child.

Now that her mind had known pain and had wandered even through the world’s darkest meanders, Inej still loved looking at the sky. She liked to remember both the acrobatics she had performed on the rope, admired by her proud family, and the brave stunts she had succeeded in as the Wraith, with Ketterdam’sky as her sole witness. She liked to admire the blue intense sky towering on the True Sea and the azure one inundating with light and hope Kaz’s farm.    

 It was early June and the clouds looked softer than ever. The sun burnt high in the clear azure sky and his shiny rays softly tinged the boundless meadows gold. 

Inej let her eyes part from the sky and wander around the immense verdant meadows surrounding her, which stretched as far as eye can see and finally got lost between the vague trembling lines of the horizon, in a pyrotechnic explosion of colours. She admired the flowery fields and the carpet of grass she was sitting on, embroidered with the golden light of the daffodils, the white purity of the daisies, the gentle pink of the roses, the purple of the wild geranium – her mother’s favourite flower- and the strong blue of the irises, which reminded her of the unforgiving waves colliding with her Wraith. On the distance she could see the orchards tinging the landscape pink: she recognized the light-pink petals of cherries, the darker pink and orange flowers of the peaches and then the white and pinkish heart-shaped flowers of the apricots, slowly falling to the ground and leaving place to the orange velvety drupes.

The fresh floral perfume was inebriating and the delicate scent of grass, soft and faintly damp under her touch, graced her nostrils and intoxicated her thoughts. A soft symphony of birds singing reigned in the colourful heaven and lulled her, accompanied by the gentle tune of a light pleasant breeze, the soft murmurings of the creek beyond the orchards and the melody of... of feets approaching her.

 “You have picked some flowers.” Inej turned around and watched Kaz nodding to the wooden basket full of flowers, while slowly sitting beside her. This Kaz’s voice, Kaz Rietveld's voice, was not as raspy as Kaz Brekker’s one. He wasn’t even using the cane, which he had come to find unnecessary for walking on the soft grass.                                                                                                          This Kaz, her Kaz, had longer hair on the sides and brown highlights, result of almost three weeks spent in the sun. He had even tanned a bit and gotten freckles all over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and the corners of his mouth seemed to be turned up in a smile more often than not. He was wearing simple black breeches and a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. No coat, no hat. No gloves. His eyes, however, were the same colour of bitter coffee as always.

“Wylan helped me earlier.” Inej observed Kaz eyeing the flowers with a troubled expression and then slowly lifting his head to look at her. “I've never given you flowers.”  

  KAZ 

“You have picked some flowers”.  Inej turned around and Kaz swore he had felt his heart stopping. The sun rays caressed her chocolate skin and framed her beautiful face. Oil black lashes fanned over her cheeks and a light breeze ruffled her silky dark hair. Her obsidian eyes resembled the darkest of the abysses and Kaz craved to forget himself and die in his pitch-dark immensity. Her vivid eyes sparkled as the brightest and most vibrant of stars and Kaz ached to live eternally and enshrine that light in a golden casket.

To Kaz, she didn’t look real, not for him. To Kaz, she looked holier that any of the Saints she devotedly believed in, so stunning that he thought he might just break down and cry if he looked at her any longer. Enveloped by the rainbow of flowers and trees, she looked like a picture painted by Purity itself, with the colourful palette of kindness and hope and the silver brush of strength and determination.

Kaz couldn’t thank any God enough that she was real. He jealously cherished every moment in which his eyes were graced with the sight of her elegant figure and kind smile, as he had never seen her before, as he would never see her again. He had learned to welcome and appreciate even the feeling of his breath catching and mouth drying whenever he looked at her, whenever he was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world.

To Kaz, looking at Inej felt like dying. It felt like he couldn’t hope nor ask to breathe the same air of a heart so kind, a soul so hopeful, a mind so strong. It felt like being lost in the vastness of the universe, like navigating the tumultuous waves of the True sea, overwhelmed by feelings he never knew his hearth could fell, stunned by a fate he didn’t believe he deserved. It felt like being consumed by her, for her.  

To Kaz, looking at Inej felt like living. It felt like he could hope to walk this land as a better man, like he had managed to pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. It felt like having been hurt and then healed, like the sorrows and ghost of his past wouldn’t persecute him for evermore, like life was worth living. It felt like being whole, like the void in his soul had been filled by her, for her.  

To Kaz, looking at Inej felt like looking at the sun, like being warmed and burned, overwhelmed by a powerful oxymoron of emotions, a powerful oxymoron of life and death. To Kaz, Inej looked like the sun. To Kaz, Inej looked brighter than the sun.

“Wylan helped me earlier.” Kaz looked at the wooden basket full of flowers and a sudden realization striked him : flowers, he had never gifted her with flowers. He had given her a knife, sure, but he had done it for his own personal purposes, for turning her into his Wraith. Now they had been staying in Johannus Rietveld's farm for almost three weeks, literally surrounded by flowers, and he had never given her any. Would she have wanted him to? Would she have liked a gift that would have reminded her of her happy childhood, and not of the violence she had been forced to face? Would she have liked a gift that he would have given her had they met in another life, had they been Inej Ghafa and Kaz Rietveld, instead of the Wraith and the Bastard of the Barrel?

He shifted his eyes back to hers and murmured weakly, “I’ve never given you flowers.” Inej looked taken aback for a moment, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, before quickly recomposing herself and setting her face into a stoic, indecipherable expression. She looked straight into his eyes, pursed lips and brow furrowed, and Kaz knew he was inevitably about to enhance the list of his unforgivable sins. “Kaz”, her voice came out unbearably severe and disappointed and Kaz knew he would have gladly chosen death if it’d mean he would never be the one to bring that tone in her angelic voice again. But then her lips twitched almost imperceptibly, like she was trying with all her might to hold back Kaz’s final death sentence, and her eyes gleamed with… amusement?

A laugh, she was trying to hold back a laugh. How Inej managed to turn Dirtyhands, the brain which had broken into the Ice Court and destroyed one of Ketterdam’s most powerful man, into a lovestruck fool was downright beyond him. “Inej”, he sighed defeated and her whole face lighted up with delight, before she carefreely threw her head back and released the most infectious and crystalline of laughs. Now Kaz was sure he was going to die, mercilessly killed by the most beatific sound which had ever reached his ears, undeniably annihilated by the same laugh he craved for all-day long and graced his dreams every night, by the truest and most profound essence of her.

Her eyes sparkled with sheer love and a warm, affectionate smile enlightened her features: “Kaz, you gave me my Wraith, you found my parents for me, you restored my freedom when I thought there were no hope or salvation left for me”, she cooed fondly and tenderly, “do you honestly believe I would be upset because you never gave me flowers?”. Kaz felt his lips immediately turning up in a sincere smile and, not trusting himself with words, slowly shifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against hers, asking the permission she immediately granted, sliding her smaller hand into his callous one and entwining their fingers. It was always like this between them, a game of continuous asking and giving permissions, of constant gaining and offering trust, a game he genuinely believed they were slowly yet effectively winning.

“Do you want to know what my father used to tell me when I was little?” Inej asked softly, while lovingly drawing little circles with her thumb on Kaz’s bare hand.

“Another Suli wise proverb?” he smirked.

“No, Kaz”, she playfully rolled her eyes, “not another of our useful proverbs. He used to tell me that there would have been many boys to bring me flowers, but that only one would have known my favourite flower, or song or sweet. And that even if he’d have been too poor to give me any, he wouldn’t have mattered, because that boy, and him only, had earnt my heart.”

Kaz’s heart leaped with joy: he knew. He had never given her flowers, but he knew her favourite one, he knew. “Dahlia. Your favourite flower is the Dahlia, the red one. You told me when we saw one in the flower stall in Goedmedbridge, remember? We were following those Dime Lions. You said you liked it because it appeared elegant and graceful, but that the red colour made it look also somewhat powerful and strong.”, he blurted out with the excitement of a child. ”And your favourite sweet are those chocolate biscuits Nina made you try when you visited her in Ravka last summer. The ones she had cooked modifying Matthias's Fjerdian recipe.”

“And my favourite song?”

Hearing Inej’s trembling, touched voice snapped Kaz out of his frantic enthusiasm, his grin softening into a lovely crooked smile and devotion gleaming in his eyes. “You don’t have one. You can’t choose between all the lullabies your mother singed to get you to sleep.”

  INEJ 

Inej didn’t answer. She tightened her hold on Kaz’s hand, but didn’t answer. She fought the urge to cry – if from happiness or gratitude or emotion she couldn’t say-, but didn’t answer. She looked into his strong tea brown eyes as if he was a miracle of her Saints, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t, for the life of her, find her voice, because this boy, this man, had earned her heart.  

She had fallen for Dirtyhands under the grey sky of Ketterdam, the man who had freed her from a cage of horrors and humiliations and had given her, if not happiness or safety, a new perspective, a new possibility at life. She had fallen for the man who, as first thing, had refused to call her with that grotesque, demeaning name Tante Heleen had given her, but had asked for her real name, for how she wished to be called. She had fallen for the Bastard of the Barrel, the man who had taught her how to fight and defend herself, how to become powerful and even dangerous, how to make others respect her. She had fallen for the man who had never wanted to own her or annihilate her identity. She had fallen for the man who, even if hadn’t promised her that, had always protected her, whatever the cost.  

Then she had slowly came to know Kaz Rietveld and had fallen hard for him too. She had fallen for the boy who looked sincerely ashamed after being scolded by Mr. Fahey, for the boy who fought everyday against his demons and was willing to defeath them to be with her. She had fallen for the boy who smiled light-heartedly and laughed freely, for the boy whose eyes glowed in the sun and gleamed with a nervous yet warm devotion while braiding her hair.

She had fallen for the man who wanted her and wished to dedicate himself to her, without gloves, without armour. She had fallen for the naive, sweet boy Kaz had once been and for the man revenge and greed had shaped, a crow mercilessly remindful or who had wronged him, but also of who had been kind and fair. She had fallen for who he was becoming, a man who had known pain and hatred, but was willing to open the rusty gate of his hearth to love and friendship.

She had fallen for Kaz Brekker, the man who had returned her the liberty which had been violently snatched from her and had found her beloved parents. The man who had encouraged her ambitions and supported her constantly in her fight against the slavers.

She had fallen for Kaz Brekker. She loved Kaz Brekker, and he had earned her heart. He possessed her heart.

“I can braid your hair, if you’d like. I… I could add the flowers.” Hadn’t she just been thinking he owned her heart?

Her voice still failed her, so she resolved to nod. She watched Kaz shifting a bit to sit behind her and heard his breathing deepening. After a few instants, Inej welcomed the cherished feeling of Kaz’s long fingers caressing her inky hair with a gentleness that didn’t surprise her anymore. She felt him dividing the hair into three even parts, before crossing the left section over the middle one and then doing the same with the right section. As always, he worked in silence, section after section, strand after strand, breath by breath, brick by brick. The first times he had braided her hair, Inej had felt Kaz's fingers trembling and his breathing fastening, so she had started to ask him what was on his mind, to distract him, or she would tell him stories from her childhood, to soothe him.

Now, his fingers didn't tremble anymore and he was rather succesful in controlling his breathing, but Inej still whished to hear his concentrated voice. She still wanted to explore the gears of his psyche, to navigate the thunderous stream of his thoughts, to know the forbidden ruminations of his complex mind. “Wha”, she coughed, clearing his throat, “What are you thinking right now, Kaz?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”, he chuckled, and Inej could perfectly figure his mischievous grin.

“Kaz.”

“Darling Inej, treasure of my heart, I'm thinking about how it's taking me forever to braid all this hair. I swear I'll cut it, one day or another.”

“You wouldn't dare!”, she cried out in mock outrage, repressing a laugh.

“Would you slit my throat with Sankta Alina while I sleep, if I cut it?”

“You have to ask?”

“Then no, I wouldn't dare.”, Kaz answered with an exaggeratedly fearful tone that really didn't suit him.

They kept silent for a moment, pursing their lips, before giving in and bursting out laughing until tears rolled down their cheeks with amusement. “I never knew Dityhands was so easily scared", Inej sputtered out between laughs, “he is such a chicken, isn't he?”.

“Stop making me laugh Inej", he sniggered, “or I'll get confused and will have to start the braid from the beginning. I'm doing a delicate operation here while you just sit and laugh, you know?”

“Sorry, sorry", she wiped a tear from her left eye, “but you still have to tell me what you are thinking about.”

They slowly calmed down, quieting their breathing and setting into a comforting silence. Inej, however, had felt Kaz’s fingers slightly tensing up and when his hand shifted to take a geranium into the basket -after having secured the braid-, she asked again. “Kaz, tell me please.”

He took a deep breath. His fingers trembled. “I’m thinking if this is how it would have been. If we hadn’t become Dirtyhands and the Wraith, that is.”

Inej’s heart gave a painful squeeze. “Kaz”, she started soothingly, “we-.

“Would you want us to be only Kaz Rietveld and Inej Ghafa, sitting on the grass and enjoying the sun, while I braid your hair? Would you want me to be able to touch you as every man touches his girlfriend? Would you- ”

“No, Kaz, I wouldn’t.”, she brusquely interrupted him, “I wouldn’t.”. She swiftly turned around, took both his hands in hers without giving much thought to caution and permissions, and looked straight into his eyes with the determination of who allows for no replication. “I wouldn’t, Kaz. I wouldn’t because, if we hadn’t become Dirtyhands and the Wraith, we would have never met. And even if we had met, we wouldn’t have been who we are today, and believe me when I say I’d never change who we are, for anything in the world. It’s not Kaz Rietveld the one I’m in love with, you know. I’m in love with him, with Dirtyhands, with the Bastard of the Barrel.” Inej swore he’d never looked that dumbfounded, but she wasn’t quite finished. “I’m in love with Kaz Brekker. I’m in love with you, Kaz. As you’re in love with the Wraith, with Captain Ghafa, with Inej. Aren’t you, Kaz?”, and this time she didn’t even try to hold back the tears.

“Inej”, he murmured with a devotion who made her feel holier than the Saints she believed in, “Inej”, he repeated, while slowly untangling his right hand from hers and lifting it to her cheeks. With the gentlest touch, he captured her tears with his fingertips and delicately wiped them away, one by one. “Inej”, and if she could have bottled the sound of her name being so tenderly whispered by his lips and gotten drunk on it every night, she would have. ”Inej”, he delicately cupped her right cheek, while his other hand went to softly rest on her neck. “Inej”, he got closer to her and Inej thought her heart might just jump out of her chest, “Inej”, and he slowly lowered his head, lips hovering over her cheek. “Inej”, and his crimson lips brushed the tip of her nose, his hands slightly tremulous. “Inej", and his warm lips captured a tear rolling down her left cheek, and then another and another. “Inej", and his soft lips grazed her forehead, while she lifted her trembly hands and delicately yet eagerly rested them on his wrists. “Inej", and she had barely a moment to register the lonely tear falling from his left eye, before she finally felt the cherished pressure of his moist lips against hers, both familiar and new all at once. And a rainbow of colours and emotions exploded behind her closed eyelids.

In this moment, when Kaz's lips were pressed against hers, Inej knew that she'd never be the same again, that she'd never forget the taste of him, that she’d never give anything for granted, that she'd never stop fighting for what is good and just in this twisted world. In this moment, while she could feel the faintest brushes of tongues and the most sheer connection of hearts and souls, Inej found herself floating away, knowing nothing but Kaz, his smell, his breath, his hands on her skin, his hearth throbbing madly in his chest. In this moment, when he finally met her where she had been waiting for him, Inej thanked all her Saints and treasured the arduous path that, after years of battles and sufferings and anguish, had allowed them to live this precious instant, this precious everything.

When they finally pulled away, hearts gone mad with joy and euphoria, Inej looked into Kaz's blissful eyes and gave him a watery smile: “Which is your favourite flower, Kaz?”

A/N:  Hey guys, thank you so much for reading!!! What do you think Kaz's favourite flower would be?? Tell me in the comments!

[ginkgomoon]

Gavin’s Old Days Date- Analysis

I received an ask just then about this date and so I’m typing my heart away at 2 in the morning. It didn’t really fully sink in to how much of a good date Old Days was until some time had passed, with the way how I looked at Gavin back then different to how I saw him now. This date brought back so many emotions and memories- especially when it’s such a well-rounded story with various hidden meanings and references which enabled me to have something to analyse!

This date circulates around Gavin and MC’s high school history in the span of days Friday and Saturday- on that fateful day when Gavin wanted to give the letter, to the night he waited for her.

It also has a circular storyline structure, from when MC first dreams of Gavin that catalyses following events. But something we also have to note is that the whole entire time until the very last few minutes- MC is ‘dreaming’.

The turbulent flow of time and space stunned me, and countless doors opened before me one by one.

The memory fragments poured in, and those images reflecting me and Gavin flew past quickly.

He turned his back to me and walked away, his white shirt fluttering in the wind, almost engulfed by the increasingly denser mist.

I shouted his name aloud and ran desperately, wanting to catch up with him, but the corner of his shirt was like wind that couldn't be grasped, dispersing between my fingers.

His figure became increasingly blurred as he was farther and farther, finally disappearing completely in the narrow field of vision.

Standing in the void, I seemed to have lost all directions and motivation forward.

Until a gentle breeze with a familiar fragrance blew the fog away.

There seemed to be dazzling sunlight piercing through the clouds, and after the mist dissipated, a completely different space-time appeared before me…

This part of MC’s dream is like a metaphor for Gavin’s sudden leave. The mini fragments of her memories and the information that she knew now compared to back in high school come together to try to form some comprehensible picture in her mind, which in this case- her dream.

(Which probably was helped by the presence of Black Cabin with the ‘“doors”. But I could also argue that it wasn’t, because this isn’t supposed to be the first time MC enters Black Cabin. Then again, dates differ from the main storyline.)

But just like how MC is Gavin’s North Star, without him, even she is lost and directionless. They both need each other. As they are each others’ mystery, they are each others’ answers.

“This uniform and medals are my beliefs, with you guiding me in the direction forward.” -Go See Him

MC wants to reach out, not wanting Gavin to leave her, just like how he left seven years ago. Though even here, Gavin’s wind helps guide her forward- to meet him again in this time-space.

Dreams are still a big mystery to us. Some say it reveals our deepest desires and fears presented by our subconscious. By listening to it, we are able to guide our efforts in achieving and chasing what we truly desire whilst avoiding our fears. And if some dreams are based on truth, then it can easily foreshadow what we are about to encounter.

As MC finally settles in appearing at their old school of Loveland High, she sees Gavin.

Through the crowds, he seemed to be looking at the girl standing on the middle of the flag raising platform with a speech draft in her hands. Without realising, he crumpled the letter in his hand even more tightly.

The infamous letter.

Moments ago he saw me, he was so shocked that his pupils contracted slightly. He also slipped when he was about to jump down.

“Who are you?”

The shock in his eyes was now replaced by alertness and uncertainty.

Gavin clearly doesn’t know this MC- because in this time-space, she doesn’t really exist. As I said above, as dreams can be based on truth and our desires, MC feels like she could have done something to correct their relationship in this course of time. But at this stage between her and Gavin, she doesn’t know much about it because he never explicitly told her and she wants to know. This dream is a manifestation of that.

MC: “Excuse me, do you know MC? I am her cousin.”

MC also experiences being her own cousin such as in Time Subway’s Loveland High Noodle Bar and STF Drill Ground.

Gavin looked at me suspiciously for a long time, and finally nodded indifferently.

Gavin: “Oh, what do you want with her?”

MC: “How is she doing in school lately?”

Gavin: “I don’t know her that well.”

Gavin helps MC locate herself- her high school self- but when she looks back, he has already disappeared. She then overhears students talking about Gavin getting beaten up by a hundred people and becomes an investigator into his whereabouts.

The next part of the date isn’t from MC’s narration, which led me to believe that this really did happen in MC and Gavin’s own universe. The ‘truth’ of the dream.

*Beating up happening*

Random Kid Who Doesn’t Have Better Things To Do: “I heard that our school overlord is transferring to another school. Is that true? Since you are leaving, why can’t you be good?”

Gavin: “That’s none of your business!”

Random Kid Who Doesn’t Have Better Things To Do: “True, but after you leave, your beloved girl will no longer be under protection, right? Don’t worry I’ll take care of her for you. And I heard she’s our campus belle.”

Gavin (fiercely with an angry face): “What did you say?”

*More beating up*

MC’s POV begins.

Finally, I found the alley from memory.

Gavin: “You won’t get off so easily next time. Try getting near her and see what happens.”

Gavin leaves and even MC wasn’t fast enough to catch a wounded, bleeding Gavin. She racks her brains to try to figure out where he is, and finally comes to the piano room.

And BEHOLD- Gavin casually sitting on a ginkgo tree dressing his wounds.

Gavin (annoyed): “Why are you everywhere…”

MC: “Are you waiting for MC? She’s preparing for exams so she won’t be here today.”

Gavin: “...I wasn’t looking for her.”

Gavin reluctantly agrees to follow MC into the infirmary and she starts to help properly dress his wounds.

MC: “Are you not a close friend with MC?”

Gavin: “... I’ve just heard her name before. She’s got good grades and she’s very kind.”

MC: “Have you ever talked to her?”

Gavin: “Nope.”

MC: “Then how do you know she’s kind?”

Gavin: “Why should I answer your questions?”

He looked a little vexed, looking away with his ears turning red.

MC: “Sorry, I meant well. It’s just that she’s mentioned you to me. She says you’re not as bad as what people say you are. You helped carry her books and took her to the infirmary…”

Gavin: “I just happened to be around.”

MC: “Err, then you must happen to be around quite a lot.”

Gavin: “How do you know all of this?”

MC: “She tells me everything. We even look very similar don’t we?”

Gavin: “But you act differently.”

MC helps Gavin finish patching his wounds and Gavin is noted to be unwilling to stay with her.

MC: “I have one more thing to tell you. MC is a bit slow. She is not as good as you think, and will also be blinded by rumours…”

Gavin interrupts me coldly.

Gavin: “She’s a very nice person. What she thinks of me has nothing to do with anyone else. If you're here just to tell me these things, then I don't need to listen to you.”

Gavin grabbed his uniform, but a white object fell from his pocket to the floor.

It was a crumpled letter. Stained in blood.

I went to pick it up but the paper slipped out and I caught a glimpse of the contents by accident.

Gavin quickly picked up the letter and put it back without saying a word.

There was a flash of dismissal in his eyes. He tried to flatten the creases on the letter awkwardly.

(RIP LETTER. He even tried to flatten it. GAVINNN)

Gavin’s view remains the same in their own universe- “You can’t change other people’s opinions but you can change your attitude towards them. Don't let yourself be easily affected. You shouldn't envy me. You’re different from me. You're kind and thoughtful. That's what makes you, you. Besides, I’m not as free as you think, and I care about a lot of things.” -Company Footage [Chapter 3-7]

The scene around her changes. MC figures that if this is the memory of her and Gavin, then the most important thing was to find him.

MC’s mind fixates on the familiar bloody letter- recalling its words. MC then sprints to the school library.

The library looked a little deserted in the darkness. Looking along the rows of bookshelves, I finally found Gavin seated next to the window.

At this point, Gavin has been waiting a whole day for high school MC to meet him. She didn’t read the letter that had the time he wanted her to come.

He turned around and the moment he heard my footsteps, and the glimmer in his eyes suddenly died away again when he saw me.

I realised that on this day, he had wanted to say goodbye.

He just frowned and looked away, uninterested.

MC: “Are you waiting for MC? She might have misunderstood. Sorry, let me apologise for her.”

Gavin: “It has nothing to do with you.”

He paused and said in a self-mockery tone.

Gavin: “I knew she wouldn't come anyway.”

I’ve never seen Gavin like this. At this time, he was still so young and one could easily read his emotions.

Only then did I realise how he described his past as a mere “regret” was an understatement. He had to endure the long wait and the misery of being understood silently.

(It’s 2am and I’m crying.)

I mistook the farewell letter as a threat and threw it away. I never tried to learn the truth and misunderstood him. And still was protected and cherished by him.

I never felt so sorry and never wanted to blame myself even more.

If I didn't know all of this, if we had never met each other after we went in opposite directions…

MC: “Although I know saying these now is meaningless...You’ll be a very awesome person in the future, and you will stick to your belief and to justice. And you’ll also meet the person you want to meet. Even though she might not be great and always troubles you, you will definitely meet each other in the future. So…”

But when I looked back up, Gavin was gone.

As if back to the beginning of the dream, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t catch up or make a sound.

And MC wakes up. (Circular storyline- starts and end with a dream- starts and ends with Gavin.)

“Why did it take you so long to answer? Did you just wake up?”

It was Gavin.

MC: “Gavin… I….”

Gavin: “Why do you sound so weird?”

MC: “I had a dream about you.”

Gavin: “Was it a bad dream? Don’t worry, it won’t happen. By the way, I'll be at your place soon. I brought steamed buns and soybean milk for breakfast.”

Just like how he bought milk and bread for her at the infirmary after she fainted during a school sports event.

The moment I saw Gavin, I threw myself into his arms, crying.

His strong chest, the familiar smell under his collar. This was Gavin, the Gavin who would never disappear or leave me.

Gavin: “Why are you crying?”

He tried to dry my tears clumsily, but both his hands were occupied, so he had to move to the table and put the breakfast down while I hung onto him like a koala.

Gavin: “Tell me, what was your dream about?”

MC: “In my dream, you skipped class, got into fights, and ignored me.”

Gavin: “...”

MC: “You also said, ‘it’s none of your business’ to me coldly several times.”

He held back laughter and listened to my tearful complaint. Then he suddenly took my hand, and slapped it on his palm.

Gavin: “Then bully me back now.”

MC: “Gavin, have you ever thought about… what if we didn’t meet?”

He gave it some thought and nodded seriously.

Gavin: “Yes I have. If I wasn't there, would the girl get bullied? Would someone be looking out for her? I’ve also wondered if someone would fall in love with her or give her a love letter.... Would she like someone else? So, if I were to meet her again, I must hold onto her.”

He took my hand lightly, and kissed it preciously, his voice soft.

“And never let her go again.”

(The same hands that helped dress his wounds. CRYING.)

All this time Gavin had regretted not being able to give the letter to her in person, presumably with the fear of rejection from the one person he cared about. Even if Gavin hadn’t had a conversation with her or knew her very well, the interactions they have had together was enough for Gavin to form an opinion of her- a strong enough opinion that even he refuses to listen to MC’s ‘cousin’ (interactions like wanting to introduce himself in the library but MC dashes off LOL).

Wanting to protect her continuously from the students during the alleyway fight and waiting day and night for her also really does showcase his determination and the effectiveness of having a glimmer of hope from and for someone goes a long way, especially with a loyal man like Gavin.

Additionally, MC states that he was cold to her, which shows that even someone who claimed to be her cousin wouldn't melt Gavin’s heart with secondhand words. (That wall that he built up between him and MC of how he bats each question she asks with another question LOL.)

Even in front of Cousin MC, he wants to keep up that tough and unbreakable persona, the one that high school MC is more familiar with- until the very end when he finally has to come to the conclusion that MC is not going to see him. This therefore really does make him think that she didn't want to meet him. And in the storyline, he really did have to live like that, thinking that she thought of him just like how everyone did- until they met again.

But after all that Gavin had been through, he’s willing to cherish every moment he has with MC in the future. Not basing their relationship off of the failures, misunderstandings and regrets- but their hopes and dreams of a better future together.

“Before you… I lower all my defences.” -Gavin

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part One)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, 150% angst, character death (technically not major character but they’ve been mentioned a lot)

Word count: 3,461

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

a/n: things in bold are in english

You were nervous all night for two reasons.

The first and biggest reason was that your pack was out facing guards, hunters, and townsfolk. The odds that anybody could die were very great, and that shot fear into your very core. Your brother was your blood, and you cherished him with everything. Without your brother, you didn’t know what you would do. He protected you, kept you under control, and always got you out of trouble. Your pack made you feel like you could take care of something, and you would do anything to make them feel safe and cared for. You may not have been good with your emotions, but you always made sure to show the pack you loved them.

The second reason, albeit not a big reason, was that Jiung had teased you about your mate possibly being in Seungcheol’s pack. All he told you was that his name was Hansol, and he was two years younger than you. Of course, him and Rin had a field day with teasing you about it, but you chose to try to ignore it despite your cheeks heating up like they would catch on fire, too. But even so, you were nervous about possibly meeting your mate tonight. But then again, if he was in that pack, he would be in that fight. You might not meet your mate ever.

Death was big probability tonight, and that terrified you. But all you could do was try to focus on the wolves and mates that had shown up at your door, and take care of them to the best of your abilities. Only when Jiung finally came home would you feel calm again.

-

Eunjin let out a blood curdling scream as soon as the three alphas had arrived from town, the rest of Jiung’s pack plus Minghao behind them. Wolves and humans alike stopped what they were doing, dropping to the ground to cover their ears in an attempt to block out the shriek.

Nobody knew exactly what caused her scream, but they assumed death must be dangerously near. It could be anybody, though, which was scary. Nobody knew who to watch out for or who to save. Nobody knew if they’d have the opportunity to cheat death. They just knew somebody was about to die.

But not unless somebody could help it.

Seungcheol lifted his head, realizing this was their out. If Eunjin’s screams distracted the humans, they could get away safely. He pulled himself off of the ground, trying to endure the screams as he made his way to each member of the pack, tapping them on the shoulder and nodding them in the direction of the clearing. The first few managed to collect the mates before leaving, making sure they were safe first.

Hansol felt the tap on his shoulder blade, lifting his head as he whined loudly. Seungcheol had one hand pressed to his ear while the other ear was laying against his shoulder. The alpha pointed toward the clearing, telling him to go, so he got up and went to run. He was one of the last ones to go, and then they’d be safe. They’d win against death.

Almost there. Just a little more until the treeline, and he was sure he could lose the hunters. But the screaming stopped when he was about 80 yards from the trees, and the humans were starting to come back to their senses.

He suddenly felt a weight on him that not only brought him to the ground, but it started to burn him. He realized it was a net that was beginning to sizzle into his exposed skin, and started to hurt even through his clothes. He whined before letting out a howl, hoping anybody could help him.

But then he realized, he didn’t want anybody in the pack to sacrifice themselves for him. He was just one person, and if somebody came back, they’d both end up being killed. It was better for this to just happen to him rather than to somebody else or multiple people.

He had a feeling when Eunjin screamed directly at him that he was the one who would die. He was the one doomed with the ‘curse of the banshee’. As he heard the cock of a gun, he knew it was it. So, he closed his eyes as he laid on the ground, waiting to be killed.

He heard the gunshot and flinched, but felt nothing new. Not more pain, not numb, and he didn’t even see a bright light like everybody said you’d see when you died. There was nothing new. He even opened his eyes and could still see everything perfectly.

Including Jiung, who was on the ground beside him, coughing up blood.

The alpha was bleeding from his stomach, having been shot in the back with the bullet going right through him, but he used whatever strength he had left to lift the silver net off of the younger wolf to free him. He didn’t even care that the silver burned his hands – he would die anyway, what did it matter?

“Hansol,” Jiung’s voice was strained, and blood spat onto the grass as he spoke. He spoke in English, which Hansol remembered was the alpha’s native tongue, “please take care of _____ for me. Don’t let her do anything stupid. Please love her with everything you have, no matter how much she lashes out. She really is the most caring girl in the world.”

Hansol had no idea what the older boy was talking about, but he refused to let him die here after saving him, “Jiung, I–”

One of Jiung’s pack – Hanbin, the fast one – had sensed his alpha was in danger and was suddenly standing in front of them after speeding back from the forest.

“Jiung–”

“Take Hansol and go,” Jiung stated, weakly shoving Hansol toward the wolf. “That’s an order, Hanbin.”

Hanbin stared down at his alpha, a loud whine emitting from him. Despite how much he wanted to help Jiung, he could only carry one of the wolves, and he couldn’t ignore Jiung’s order. His pack was ordered to protect Seungcheol’s at all costs, anyway.

Before Hansol could say anything else, Hanbin had grabbed him and run off into the woods, leaving Jiung behind.

But Jiung wasn’t sad about his death. Yes, he was upset that he would miss his sister and his pack. His heart ached knowing he’d never see his family – blood or pack – again. But he had helped another pack from feeling the same heartache his had felt when they lost brothers and sisters. He accomplished the mission he set out to achieve, and that made him smile even as tears fell from his eyes and the hunters surrounded him.

His last thought was you. You were always so strong, and he knew you’d find a way to be okay without him. If you had Hansol by your side, he was sure you could be kept under control -- the two of you were made for each other. You always did act before thinking, so he wanted to be sure you would be kept safe. After getting to know Hansol – even if it was only a little – he was positive you’d be taken care of. And that made him laugh weakly from happiness, even as his view of the stars in the sky was clouded by the masked hunters towering over him.

The last thing he heard was another scream in the woods.

-

You paced by the front door, blocking out whatever small talk was going on in the living room. You didn’t stop pacing until you suddenly felt something wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. 

You felt it at the same time that you very, very faintly heard a scream way off in the distance that sounded just like the banshee.

You’d never felt this instinct before, but you knew exactly what it was somehow. It was just the connection you had with the alpha. If anything ever happened to the alpha, the entire pack would know, and you knew Rin had the same feeling as soon as she tensed and stared back at you, her eyes wide as tears filled them.

The mates noticed your expressions and how your bodies were visibly shaking. Chanseong stood up, going over to you and putting his hands on your shoulders, “What is it? What happened?”

But you couldn’t even form words. You just stared back at him but not really at him. Your eyes were on him but your brain was somewhere else.

The alpha was dead. You could feel it.

Jiung was killed. Your twin brother. Your blood.

“_____…” Rin whispered, her bottom lip quivering as the other mates looked between you and her for answers.

The mates knew well enough about werewolf instincts. A pack was only tied to their alpha and they could sense when something was wrong with their alpha. They could put two and two together after a little bit of thinking, and Chanseong’s face fell as he realized.

Even the few wolves of Seungcheol’s pack understood. They weren’t sure if you sensed that your alpha was dead or just injured, but they knew there was trouble. But they wouldn’t ask for any clarifications. That would just be insensitive. They’d wait to be told.

“_____…?” Chanseong asked, hoping you could tell him he was wrong.

“No,” you murmured, “no, no, no, no, no…”

You suddenly whipped around and ran for the door, Chanseong’s hands falling from your shoulders. You were going to find the pack and see for yourself. And then you were going to go straight to wherever Jiung was to rip apart every single hunter and guard there limb from limb.

Despite the indescribable emotional pain she felt, Rin knew better than to just let you go off like this. She knew how you could get, and she knew you’d only get yourself into danger.

Using one of the only useful phrases she knew in Korean – thanks to your pack having to say it on many occasions – she pointed at you as you disappeared out the door, “Grab her!”

Chan immediately obliged, knowing you were going to go find the pack. He was much faster than you, and threw his weight on you, sending you both to the ground before rolling a few feet. That bought enough time for Rin to get outside and held hold you back as you tried to shove Chan off of you. You managed to get to your feet, but you now had Chan with his arms around your waist, Rin’s arms under yours and her nails digging into the front of your shoulders, and two of the mates holding onto your hands.

“_____,” Rin’s voice was harsh, and you knew she was trying to mimic the voice your brother used to make you listen, “do not start this.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until you shook your head and felt cold streaks on your cheeks, “Fuck you, let me go!”

“_____–”

“Corinne, let me go!” you growled, feeling your emotions bubble up inside you until flames burst from your skin.

You felt all arms and hands suddenly release you to avoid getting burned, and you immediately took off into the woods. You heard the gasps of those who didn’t know how powerful your power was, but you didn’t have the space in your body to feel any sort of pride from their shock. All you felt was a pain in your heart you couldn’t get rid of, and a rage toward whoever let this happen. Even rage toward your brother for being dumb enough to get himself killed.

Chan caught up with you again, throwing himself at you now that the flames were out. You tumbled and rolled through the leaves and twigs of the forest floor before turning to find the pup, your eyes red with every emotion you felt. As you went to run at him, something else threw themselves at you. You felt large paws pinning your shoulders down before you looked up at the silvery wolf form of Rin. She growled at you, but you weren’t going to let her stop you on your mission – though with your mind running at a million miles a second, that mission wasn’t even that clear to you anymore.

You used all your pent-up emotion to shove Rin off of you, throwing her into Chan after he got up. You quickly got to your feet before you started running again, your legs going faster than you’d ever gone as you let your emotions push you to go faster and faster until you finally ran into the pack. But as you got closer, you noticed that there was indeed someone missing.

“_____?” Jaesang asked before you came to a stop, your feet sliding across the forest floor.

You felt Chan’s presence behind you, but you ignored him.

“Where’s Jiung?” you asked Jaesang who was leading the way.

Hanbin pushed his way through to the front. He figured if he was the one to leave your brother behind, he should be the one to tell you. Though, everybody already knew, and you could tell from the way people dropped their heads and averted their eyes that the feeling was correct. But still, you needed to hear it from somebody who was there.

“_____, I…” Hanbin trailed off, not knowing how to tell you this. There were no right words in this situation. “Jiung protected Hansol from getting shot by hunters. He told me to leave him behind, and it was save him or save Hansol. You know I can’t disobey alpha’s orders even though I wanted to…”

Everything stopped. Time, your breathing, your heart – all of it. The world seemed to be spinning, though, like you were falling to the side and tumbling down a hill. Hanbin’s words sunk into your brain, processing even though you couldn’t believe it.

Jiung was dead. He sacrificed himself to save Hansol.

Hansol.

Your supposed mate, Hansol.

You knew it wasn’t Hanbin’s fault. You knew ignoring alpha orders was basically impossible, so you couldn’t blame him for leaving him behind. But if Hansol had been more careful, Jiung wouldn’t have had to save him. You needed someone to blame, and that’s the logic your brain came up with. You needed someone to blame because Jiung wasn’t here for you to blame him. You couldn’t smack him in the back of the head and yell at him for being careless. You couldn’t tell him how fucking stupid he was for letting himself die like that. You couldn’t do anything because he was never coming back.

Your eyes scanned the group of people in front of you before they stopped on a face that was windowed between two men you didn’t recognize. As soon as you saw him, you knew it was him. Your heart fluttered, your gaze zeroed in on only him, and there seemed to be nothing else in the world except for him. Hansol.

But you also felt rage. You felt every emotion building up inside you. You wanted to pounce on him to kiss him, but also to tear him limb from limb. You wanted to hug him, but also punch him in the face. You wanted him to comfort you, but you also wanted to take away something from him like he took away something from you.

You were shaking, and everybody noticed. Your hands balled at your sides as your eyes turned red, only seeing the boy named Hansol. You felt so many things, but the biggest thing was anger. He was the reason Jiung was dead. He was the reason your brother would never come back. He was the reason the only real family you had left was taken from you forever.

Your body burst into flames that shot several feet in the air before dying back down, remaining only around your fists, “I’ll kill you!”

You lunged toward him, watching as his golden eyes went wide, and he took a step back. Hanbin caught you as you tried to toss yourself over his shoulder, an arm holding you at your waist before he set you on your feet. Jaesang rushed over to help, grabbing one arm while Hanbin grabbed the other. The mates around Hansol were moved away from you by other wolves, leaving him exposed.

You needed to get to him. You had to. You had to hurt him in some way because it wasn’t fair that he was perfectly fine, yet your brother was murdered. None of this was fair.

“_____, we are in danger,” Jaesang reminded you. “It’s perfectly fine if you want to strangle your mate, but you can do it when we get home. You’re better than this.”

Flames licked up your arms, burning the hands of your pack mates. They hissed, retracting their hold, and you immediately sprinted toward Hansol as you screamed and cried threats and profanities at him. You pulled one arm back, ready to punch him in the cheek and burn his skin.

Just as you threw your fist forward, Hansol grabbed your fist with his bare hand without even a second thought. But your flame went out with a sizzle instead of blistering his palm and making him cry in pain. You stood still for a moment, staring at your fist connected with his palm as your chest rose and fell with your heavy breathing. You hated how you loved his skin against yours. You hated how you wanted more contact.

But you especially hated how, until now, the only other person able to counter your fire was Jiung.

Hansol’s pack had no idea how he did that. As far as they were concerned, Hansol was just a normal werewolf. He never had any powers, and he never showed any signs like Seokmin had when his power was developing. But if a werewolf was meant to have a power, it would sometimes come to them randomly, or when they needed it most. Wonwoo’s power came to him when his mate and brother were all in danger, so it made sense that Hansol’s power would come to him when he had to take care of his mate.

“_____!” Hanbin barked.

With another yell, you pulled back your other hand and threw a punch. Hansol caught that too, but you could see frost faintly covering his palm before it wrapped around your knuckles and put out your flame.

A growl built up in your chest, your brows pulling down as you pulled your fist away from Hansol and reignited the fire surrounding it. In your white hot rage, you reverted back to your native tongue, but Hansol understood everything, “You killed him!”

You threw a punch. He caught it. It went out. 

Your pack mates just let you throw your weak and useless punches, knowing you’d get nowhere with it.

Still, you repeated the process with your other fist, “You’re the reason he’s gone!”

You threw a punch again. He caught it again. It went out again.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

You threw a punch. He caught it. It went out. 

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

It didn’t ignite. Your fist hit his chest with only half your strength.

Repeat.

“I hate you!”

You fell to your knees.

You punched him, your fire gone out, and your strength leaving your body as sadness took over.

“I hate you.”

Hansol fell with you, letting you hit him weakly.

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“I hate you…”

Your body shook with sobs, and you just stared down at your lap.

The crowd around you watched with saddened eyes. Even if some of them hardly knew you or Jiung, it hurt to see you in so much pain now – pain that some of them could only imagine. You lost the most important person in your life, and they recognized that. Some of them even silently cried for you, including Jaesang and Hanbin.

You recognized Jaesang’s whine, but he wouldn’t howl like wolves usually did to signal the death of a fallen pack mate. You were all still in danger. They couldn’t afford to mourn, but they let you have this moment because Jiung was your twin brother and the only person you felt could really understand you.

You felt warmth as Hansol wrapped his arms around you, and you just sobbed into his shoulder because the pain of losing your brother was too much for you. You hated how his warmth made you feel somewhat comforted. 

“I hate you…” you cried.

Finally, he responded to you, “I know. That’s okay.”

[duckieeart]

Victor’s - Moody Date

Hello! This is my entry for @little-butterfly-writes ‘s Contest . It’s my first time writing and I really enjoyed the process of it, enjoy reading this date!

Fandom: MLQC - Victor Li x Duckie (Mc)

Genre : jealousy jealousy jealousy , comfort , Filled with romance ( fluff)

Word count : 3,309

As If its not obvious enough to everybody.

I have feelings towards my boss, victor Li. I did fall in love with a person that I know i can’t reach even if i had him in my wildest dreams. I all i am wishing for is that no one know about these hidden feelings hoping that i will be able to maintain the decision i took and forget about him, But unfortunately things goes unplanned after I experienced certain feeling. jealousy .

If Kiki , Anna , the rest of my friends and colleagues found out about my secret feelings including the letters I wrote about victor secretly , I would get in big trouble , what letters you may ask? It’s simple. Basically, when i feel like I can’t control the love i feel towards him . I write down all my feelings in a letter and hide it somewhere , i got this idea from a movie i watched last year. At first , I haven’t thought not in a million years that I would use this idea and especially writing my unwanted feelings towards my CEO ,Aka victor li .

He was very strict and seemed to be very rude, i used to hate on him . He isn’t my type in men plus we’re completely different. Its not a big surprise since he is the CEO of an worldwide successful company ,LFG.

Just to clarify our differences. He made his company from the beginning meanwhile me, A young lady who inherited a show from her father once she Graduated from college. I didn’t even have an experience in life or the business field.

Everything were so difficult to me and it felt like an endless maze , the fact that I have him as my investor was like a miracle . Not only that but he really take good care of me . He is older in age , with a mature mindset . I am just young reckless, hesitant and inexperienced girl who just got a big position and so naive comparing to what she is responsible for .

I thought alot about giving up but victor make me change my mind and Instead of giving up he gave me the motivation to challenge him , i was in the mood to show him and prove to him that i can take the harsh responsibilities like an adult And be someone who is trust worthy enough to have his five hundred million investment in my show .

With time, i fall in love with him. And with everyday goes by it only grows bigger and bigger than the day before. The more i try to hide my feelings. The more it becomes obvious . When he confessed his feelings to me that day in the rooftop. I was beyond happy. I couldn’t sleep that day. But I quickly get back to the harsh reality, and remembered the huge gap between us, Victor deserve someone near to his position. Not me, comparing to him i am just a crybaby who rant about submitting reports and dealing with the deadlines every week .

But one day, I don’t know what’s goes inside my brain . I couldn’t even control my own body. When i found out that Victor would go to the awards banquet with another woman, I stopped thinking and I couldn’t care less about how weird i am behaving with my colleagues . In that night , i saw victor leaving the fancy banquet hall with another woman.

She looks way more mature and wiser than me. To put it in simple words she has everything i lack, and to my unfortunate luck. She does everything way better than me . And tonight , I witnessed My heart sinking in the ground. Its like i just got drenched in icy cold water in this snowy weather . I drank Alot . Wine, whiskey and even brandy . I couldn’t even recognize the bitterness in them . I just drink to be numb and ease my heart.

When the banquet came to an end ..

“ you two can head home first, its late . The weather is pretty today so i just want to walk and be alone for some time “ I spoke with a shaky voice tone, then left after grabbing my hand bag from the table.

“ whats wrong with our boss? She’s has been acting weird these few days especially today” Kiki spoke to anna.

Anna were worried as well , she just shrugs in confusion replying to kikis question.

“ i have never seen her like that before!” Anna added

“ it’s dangerous to let her be alone !, we can’t just leave her there! “ kiki said

“ she wanted time to get her self together, I think its very inappropriate for us to interrupt her wishes . * she smiled * Don’t worry minor would keep his eyes on her from afar “ Anna said while patting Kiki s shoulder gently to comfort her .

After leaving them. i rushed to the back beautiful garden to try and process everything happened tonight , the scenery were amazing but I couldn’t focus and appreciate it , I started regretting what i did, I shouldn’t push him away acting dumb and slow from the beginning. I love him more than anything, I admit i am very jealous and I don’t know how to deal with it because its my first time feeling this way about someone. I have never wanted someone as much I do for Victor.

These feelings were so exhausting to bear alone ,I was so hopeless that i even shared my story anonymously in tumbler with people but everyone advised me to stay away and forget about him for endless reasons. Yeah, they were right. But..

I also can’t… I CANT STOP LOVING HIM AND GIVE UP ON THIS . people wont have mercy on us and our relationship since we are a boss and worker in love but now seeing this . Realizing I might lose him forever. I don’t care, seeing him taking care of a random woman and accompanying her in the banquet really make me rethink about everything and even that thoughtful decision i took and was so confident about . I decided to head to the parking section for cars to follow them. I started running like crazy .

“GOD PLEASE PLEASE LET ME MAKE IT , PLEASE DONT LET THEM LEAVE TOGETHER ! . PLEASE.. I CANT LOSE HIM THIS TIME” i said begging .

I can lose anything and everything, but not him. I can’t lose Victor!

Because no one loved me like he did And I can’t imagine falling in love again with a different man.

Suddenly my foot slipped and i fall.

The expensive pair of high heel that i brought got ruined too. One of them broke But I couldn’t stop here! Im still in the middle of the way . My legs started be numb and it hurt a little because these shoes were new too , But I didn’t care, I can’t lose the path that can lead me to them! I still have to find Victor!

When i reached to the cars parking space , I couldn’t find them…

My nose suddenly started to burn and my eyes started sweating?, i decided to go back inside the banquet and sit . I couldn’t find chair there so I went to sit the corner on the stairs like a lost child. I started to cry heartily like a baby who lost her parents . But for me comparing to the baby I lost everything, I lost Victor..

My body is shaking and I couldn’t stop the thoughts in my mind. My mind went wild and started to even imagining how they would look together in the church . Kissing each other passionately after announcing them as a husband and wife. My heart suddenly started to beat so fast and I began to struggle breathing , while sobbing quietly.

Suddenly i felt a warm coat landed on my head, shoulders and has familiar manly scent ..

my face were swallowed, especially my eyes and nose. I was slow to react and realizing that this coat belongs to him…. And only him. Victor..

I felt strange feeling , i was happy and relieved that i was able to meet him again.. and that happiness give me strange feelings in my tummy . I believe that’s what they call “butterflies in the stomach” , I felt really warm. I don’t think it’s because of that coat. But him. Who give them his scent and body temperature

“ * sigh helplessly at the view* Dummy.. what are you doing here in this condition ? Don’t you know it’s dangerous area, especially in this hour? What if someone came for you ? Or even decided to kidnap you ,taking you away ? What are going to do? I searched everywhere for you and I couldn’t find you its like you weren’t in this earth from the beginning , WHERE THE HECK YOU WERE??? ………. But most importantly are you okay? Did something happen?……… Duckie , are you crying? “

my eyes couldn’t stop the tears from coming out when he were talking in such an sharp voice, he was really worried so he was furious to see me in such a state alone , but when he noticed that i was crying so hard, sniffing and wiping my eyes his voice turned so soft and calm

he grabbed my hands and hold them between his hands to warm them up

I refused to talk or face him because i wasn’t looking at my best right now, he just kneeled down to my level like prince charming and looked at me, he noticed how swallowed and red my face are.. he reached with his hands to hold my cheeks while massaging my under eyes

“ do they hurt A lot? “ he said quietly ,

I nodded while looking in the ground, my eyes fell upon his shoes trying to avoid his glare.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine too. Lets go home first … its getting late” he said..

I nodded because i was too tired to reply using sentences . I stand and remembered my broken heels and slightly injured foot.

Before I could explain, Victor carried me bridal style , I didn’t needed to explain anything. I felt warm , safe and happy, that I forget that I’m being held between his arms . I gave up to the warm sensation and fall asleep.

Victor put me in his car gently , wrapping my body with his big coat then went to grab hot tea and body warmers from the super market near by.

i took some time to wake up, when i wake up i was still in his car , the car was really warm. I didn’t find Victor on the driver seat so i looked outside.

i saw him tapping on his tablet working and answering calls . I also noticed that we’re near the sea and its 12am . I took my time appreciating the view , then i knocked at the window. Victor saw me and returned to the car.

“ you wake up, how do you feel now ? “ he asked with a soft voice

“ i am better now , sorry for making a scene back there. I was really upset about something so i was drunk , angry and upset thats why I decided to be alone , sorry i worried you and caused you trouble “i said while looking into his eyes.

“ dummy… And why did you drink? “ he said angrily ..

“ please don’t be mad i was just so upset, can’t you just allow me to drink only this time?” I said

“ yes, i am angry at you… but also glad to see you safe and better. After all , i can’t ask for more from dummy like you” victor said then poked the tip of my nose lightly with his fingers , after that he patted my head gently, smiling at me .

“ its late, let’s head home” he said

After few minutes driving i realized that we are in different path and its unfamiliar to me.

“ where are we going “ i asked hesitantly ..

“ to My home” he said

“ to your home??”

“Well, only if your apartment was nearby like my home. Its late already, just sleep tonight in my house” he said calmly

I nodded in agreement.

After few minutes we arrived.

Victor opened the door for me , i entered inside . His home was big but also felt so warm and cozy . Victor turned to face me “ go and take a hot shower, then dry your hair. Don’t get cold. I asked them to prepare you clothes. If you need anything ask me “ he said

i went to the room. It was big as expected and has a fancy bathtub. After i finished showering and preparing for bed. When i was about to head to sleep, I suddenly heard knocks on my door .

“Get in “ i said

The door was opened and it was victor, he was wearing his classic black pjs

“ as expected, you didn’t even dry your hair yet you headed to sleep anyways“ he said..

“What if you get cold?” He added

He went to grab a hairdryer from the drawer . Then turned to face me

“ come here” he said

I understand what he want so i sit and give him my back. He started to dry my hair, touching my hair so gently. After he finished drying my hair he took a hair tie and started to tie my hair.

“ there’s something I wanted to say to you” he said

“ hmm? “ I replied

“ i will get to the point “ he said

“ I might not know what exactly that got you so bothered like that , but you must know that there are a lot of circumstances in the world that are out of our control. The causes and reasons behind every circumstance is complicated. In a world where it’s impossible to know everything, it’s normal that we experience things we cannot understand and find difficult to accept. Even so, we have to accept it. There are many ways to accept it. Crying is also one of them. However, only for one night. ( he took my hand that was planning on reaching my face)…. And don’t rub your eyes, it will be better if you leave it and take a good sleep “ he added .

After leaving, he leaned to kiss my head .

“ good night “ he said

“ wait! “ i said

His eyes locked into mine , waiting for me to say what I want to say.

“ why did you went to the banquet, with her? “ i couldn’t stop my curiosity so i asked him .

He chuckled quietly then pinned my chin forcing me to look at him..

“ you jealous? “ he said

A bold idea came up to me ,

“Yes..i am! “ I didn’t wasted time and answered his question seriously.

He was frozen in his place , stopped chuckling and has a surprised face expression .

I gathered all my courage to say the three most difficult words ..

“ i love you victor! “ i said , while looking into his face..

then reached to his face and give him a quick peck on his lips ..

“ don’t make me feel this way again, I hate it !“ i said and then went for another kiss . But He didn’t kiss me back , still surprised by my bold move.

“ when i saw how you looked to her when she was talking to you . You were smiling while and looking into her eyes , I wondered if you ever started to lose your feelings towards me , i was really scared of losing you.. i even started to imagine how you would look in your groom suit .. standing beside her in front of everyone… i was so scared “ my voice cracked at the end.. i felt the tears forming in my eyes

“ I really… really don’t want to lose you . I did my research about her, She won countless times and even has the f-“ my speech were cut off with his hot kiss .

He closed his eyes and rested his one hand on the back of my head and the other on my neck.

He pulled his lips away from mine when he noticed how i was struggling to breathe.

“ … you talk too much” he said while maintaining his sharp eyes on me.

“Since when you had these thoughts on that little brain of yours? Instead of using it on useless things, apply this effort and worry about your unfinished weekly report instead. You thought I haven’t noticed how distracted you were ?“ Victor said.

“ relax dummy , Lili is just an older sister to me. She asked if i can company her since her husband on business trip outside china. Lili is busy in work but also dealing with three kids at the same time. I was just helping her manage the deal she had with SJ company , you don’t have to worry that little head of yours on such matters “ victor added.

“ Duckie, i searched for you, and luckily after 10017 years i was able to meet you again. The little head of yours could never imagine how bad I wanted to see that silly smile of yours again. I waited for so long , and you better make it up to me. In other words , Be mine” victor said , while holding my left cheek and went for another breathless kiss ..

“ i —-love —-you——-, Dummy “ he said between his kisses ..

“ don’t close your eyes, look at me when iam talking to you. You know that i love when you’re bold with me, right?” he said smiling at me then slightly biting my lower lip ..

“I was so happy when i met you, in the end of the banquet . I thought you went with her“ i said while having a big silly smile on my face

“ There is only one thing you should be happy about……. It has always been you and only you” he said while looking at my eyes and holding my hot blushing cheeks in his big hand .

After making out sessions for straight two hours , he lay me down on the bed pulling the quilt over my body.

“ go to sleep, and NEVER think about theses useless matters . if you want to ask me something Just ask me directly ... Goodnight dummy” he said ..

“Good night” i replied softly

He smiled then give me a final forehead kiss and went outside the room after dimming the lights ..

In the next day i went to LFG to submit my weekly report , suddenly i received a call from Kiki

“ boss, i made a surprise for you!! you are going to thank me for it . Don’t overthink about it, and just enjoy the surprise” she said while giggling in mischievous manner.

She closed the call, i was nervous and curious at the same time but I didn’t pay much attention on that because I didn’t have much time left, i have weekly report to submit! . I hurried to victors office and luckily I arrived on time but I found my secret love letters has been opened on victors office already and he had one of them on his hand , taking his time reading it while drinking his coffee ..

he noticed me standing near the door , surprised and embarrassed . Victor smirked in anticipation

“ You have a lot of explainings to do , Producer Duckie “ he said while giving me smirky face

what a Great start to my day.

The End

Thank you for reading, see you next time!

[the-hoarse-bard]

I was impressed at how well the ski lodge held up after over 200 years. Much better than most of the buildings in the Mojave. Shows that rich bastards always build their crap to last, at least. Rex and I showed ourselves in. The inside was surprisingly warm compared to the snowy exterior. A rather grumpy looking nightkin shot me a mean look as I entered and grumbled, "Another human, hmph. Isn't one enough?" I ignored him. I didn't come here to start fights, I came here to help Rex. I looked around the lobby and soon found Doctor Henry's lab in a room off to the right side of the building.

There was an old man fiddling with bits of what looked like a dismantled stealth boy in the lab, Doctor Henry, I assumed. He looked up as I entered, "I assume this is something important? You're interrupting my research." I pointed at Rex, "It's about my dog, Rex. He's been having problems and from what I hear you're the only one in the Mojave with the knowledge to help him." Henry's expression softened slightly, and he knelt down to get a closer look at Rex, "Hmm. This isn't good. Your dog's fine for the most part, it's his brain you see. It's going bad." He tapped Rex's brain case, "That biomed gel in there can only keep a brain from spoiling for so long. I can help him, but you'll have to find a replacement brain." I cursed under my breath. We'd come so far, but it looks like we had still further to go, "Do have any idea where I could look for one?" Henry thought a moment, "Well, I knew a woman once around Novac who kept a lot of dogs... Gibson, I think it was? Other than that, I've heard that Caesar's Legion and the Fiend's make use of dogs."

It was a start. Henry went back to his workbench, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do... Wait a moment... You'd be perfect to help, actually." I crossed my arms, "Help how?" Henry clarified, "I've been studying the local nightstalker population. They seem to have somehow gained their own stealth fields. I doubt it's a natural mutation, but discovering the cause could be vital for advancing my research into nightkin schizophrenia." I nodded, "Sounds easy enough. Go up into their caves and find out why they're turning invisible, yeah?" Henry nodded, "Bingo. There's a nightkin outside, Lily. Take her with you, I'm sure she'll enjoy getting some revenge for the nightstalkers killing her bighorners." With that, I turned and left the lodge.

Once outside, I looked over by the bighorner pen for Lilly, and I found a nightkin wearing a sun hat. I walked up to them and asked, "Are you Lily?" She beamed at me, and said in the rough voice common of mutants, "Jimmy? Little Jimmy - my, how you're grown up. So good of you to come visit your grandma." I was confused, "I... I think you've confused me for someone else." Her face fell, and she shook her head, "Oh... You're right, I'm sorry. Yes, I'm Lily, Lily Bowen. Oh, but you can just call me grandma." I shrugged, "Well, Doctor Henry said you might want to help me investigate the local nightstalkers for him." Lily laughed, "Oh, yes! We'll show them what happens to naughty doggies who bully grandma's bighorners, won't we pumpkin?" I gave her a thumbs up, and we headed for the entrance to town.

As we got close to the front gate, Marcus came up to me, "Got a problem, could use your help. Been having trouble with NCR mercs harassing the town, and they just showed up again." He pointed down the road, where there was a group of heavily armed men. I told Rex and Lily, "Stay here. I'll handle this." Marcus spoke up, "Please, don't kill them if you don't have to. You're human, so they might listen to you." I nodded and walked toward the group...

[whitexwingedxdoves]

the other side     part 2   [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warnings: Language, Death Summary: A new life seemed far too good to be true when Rick promised it to you and despite your doubts that’s exactly what you got or atleast you thought.  A/N: Requested by @jinxeee​ - I HOPE YOU LOVE IT! Im working on the last part right now and it should be out TOMORROW <3  Tags: @aubageddon91​  Part One Here. | Next Chapter

 It felt like you were in that box room for years. The only human interaction you would ever get was when someone passed one of those rancid sandwiches through. You never saw Negan though and at some point, you gave up hope and came to terms with the fact he just didn’t care or loved you the way you thought he did. You lost track of the days and nights a long time ago, the blood had peeled from your skin now but it seemed to stain, or it was shadows…. or your mind just playing tricks on you.

 It had been a while since the door opened, no dog food sandwiches, no water. Nothing. You thought perhaps they were just going to let you die in there in the worst way possible. Your mind was left to fight the dehydration and hallucinations that came with it, the women you murdered seemed to jump out at you from each corner of the room when you’d least expect it… you were living your very own horror movie. Today you laid in the foetus position, trying to stop the ghosts from getting to you when you heard the door crack open, you wanted to look so badly but you were scared it was your brain playing some evil trick on you.  You finally gained the courage to turn towards the light, wincing at the headache that attacked you almost immediately but it was a sign that this was real.  Standing in the doorway was a tall slender man, a gun pointed in your direction, you held your hands up as you attempted to sit up straight. You watched as he lowered his gun and shouted for someone to help him. As you backed yourself into the corner, you watched as a much stockier man came running to his side, the skinner man made his way towards you but with caution.

“We’re gonna get you out of here” he spoke softly, holding out a hand for you to hold. “I'm Rick, Rick Grimes” a small gasp escaped your lips at the revelation of who was in front of you now. You had heard about him from the other saviours, you knew he was the leader for another community that was causing trouble for Negan but with your primary job at the sanctuary being to look after the sanctuary while the rest of the saviours were gone, you had never had to come face to face with the infamous Rick Grimes.

 You took his hand as he led you out of the room, watching to see if you were hurt anywhere. When you passed the door frame, you couldn’t help but let your tears stream, finally being free from that hell. Your hand squeezing Rick’s a little as you try to compose yourself. You turned to him not daring to make any eye contact, biting down on your bottom lip. “Thank you” you whispered, not having enough energy to say it any louder. You felt someone hit your side softly, your eyes now panning to the object, the other man holding out a canteen for you which you hungrily took from him and downed the entire thing. You allowed a small moan to pass your lips as the dust in your throat regained its moisture. You heard the unnamed man telling you to take it easy but how could you, you had been without water for days, you passed him the empty canteen and wiped your bottom lip. “Thank you –“ finally now your voice was able to hit a higher octave.

“Daryl”

-

The men took you back to where they called home, Alexandria and it was beautiful, it was nothing like the sanctuary, it took you a few days to fully settle in – even longer to convince people that you weren’t a threat. Rick though, Rick didn’t need convincing, he’d keep you around him most of the time, teaching you new things like how to garden – that was your favourite job, He introduced you to his Daughter, Judith who seemed to take to you very well, constantly asking you to play with her whenever she saw you. He told you stories about his son Carl and the vision he had for Alexandria and you couldn’t help but tear up every time he mentioned he thought Carl would have loved you… like Judith does. The more you proved yourself the more people started to warm up to you, Michonne was the first to warm up to you, she couldn’t ignore how good you were with her daughter, nor could she ignore her daughter boasting about you at dinner every night. Daryl was a little harder to break, he recognised you as one of the saviours still but slowly he started to let his guard down around you – it was little things like bring you back your very own rabbit after a hunt or letting you watch him as he worked on his bike, it wasn’t much but you appreciated it.

 You’d stay in Alexandria for the most part, taking care of the children while the rest went off to work on the fallen bridge. You avoid the cell where Negan was kept like it was the plague, never offering to take food in despite some of the residents begging you too. You were happy again, finally. Rick had shown you what it was like to be a part of a family and now you did everything you could to show your utmost respect for the Sheriff, he was like a brother you never had and you wouldn’t let Negan ruin that for you.

 Today was a little different, you were asked to stay at Alexandria to watch Judith once again as the rest attempted to lure a horde of walkers away from the communities. You put Judith to bed but you couldn’t settle, you paced the living room floor awaiting Michonne or Rick to come through the door with good news but they never did. Instead you saw one of the residents knocking on the door, when you opened the door you couldn’t ignore the expression on his face, it was bad news. You looked past him to see a few familiar faces all seemingly upset, some had been crying. “What happened?” there was a crack in your voice, not really wanting an answer to your question and you didn’t get one. Instead you spotted Daryl just a little away from the crowd, deep in thought. You ran to him, hoping he could provide you with the answer. When you finally reached him, his eyes met with yours and instantly started to water, your chest started to heave thinking that the worst might have happened. Your eyes panned around the crowd taking in everyone that was there. You turned back to Daryl and swallowed the lump in your throat. “Where’s Rick?” your eyes started to tear up when he didn’t respond but you shook your head growing more impatient. “Where’s Rick!” you now screamed at the man, his tears now falling down his face as he shook his head, you had never seen Daryl like this before and that alone was enough to break you, you could feel your hands shaking uncontrollably as you attempted to make sense of the situation. “No- No…. No this is- No!” you cried, your legs finally buckling from under you, only to be caught by Daryl as you fell.

-

Since that day, you and Daryl became pretty much inseparable, constantly out checking new places to see if there was any sign of the man but after a couple of years had gone by you had run out of places to check. You set your sights on helping Michonne with RJ and Judith, hunting for them and watching them whenever she needed you too and much to your surprise, Daryl was right there with you. You had been sure that he would have continued to look for Rick without your help and well, he did but he was never gone for more than half a day. He swore it had nothing to do with you or the kids but you knew different, you could read him like a book now. He was your best friend, and you were his.

You walked around the gardens with Daryl checking in on everyone for the day before sending him on his way. He’d make a few jokes about how life seemed far too domesticated for his liking and you’d tease him a little, claiming he would make the perfect stay at home dad one day which would only make him push you ever so slightly. You spent most of your time there giggling away with Daryl pretty much ignoring everyone around you, you couldn’t help but feel lucky to be able to see such a soft side of the archer and you soaked up every opportunity you could. The laughter died down as Daryl spotted Negan being escorted out to the fields, trying to distract you a little so you didn’t notice. He had completely forgotten to warn you that Gabriel had decided to put Negan to work, you shot him a confused look as he stepped closer to you, blocking your view with his broad shoulders. “What are you doing?” you laughed slightly, slapping his shoulder but when he didn’t move your tone took a more serious turn. “Daryl?” The southerner sighed while rubbing the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes.

“They’re lettin’ that bastard work on the garden” he finally admitted, moving ever so slightly so you could see the scene unfold. You saw Negan bent down near the strawberries, pulling at weeds, you couldn’t bare the sight of him any longer and your eyes flickered away swallowing the lump in your throat you sent Daryl a faux smile, nodding your head.

“Good.” You whispered before linking your arm with his and continued to walk away. Your heart was racing after seeing him, you didn’t dare visit him while he was stuck in the cell, you were too scared. You almost forgot what he looked like after all these years but your heart couldn’t forget how easily he broke you.

As he picked away at weeds with his bare hands, Negan’s eyes started to wander around the garden, his heart seemed to stop when he laid eyes on you the way you wrapped yourself around Daryl’s arm laughing. He always imagined that the first time he’d see you after he locked you in that room, you’d be on your knee’s begging to be loved by him. He could feel the jealousy rise in his body, his face turning a slight red colour as he pulled a little too hard on one of the weeds. That night in his cell, all he could think about was you and how happy you looked with Daryl, his mind wandering to what you’d get up to with the archer when people weren’t watching which only angered him more. Despite all the anger, he was left more confused than anything as he sat on the edge of his bed, why did he only see you in this light now? Why did he care so much? Instead of dwelling, Negan tried to shut his eyes to fall asleep, hoping that the next day would treat him a little better.

It didn’t of course as he tended to the garden he was once again met with your laughter, his eyes narrowed at the sight of you touching Daryl’s arms before you both chased RJ around the garden. He had never seen you so happy before, so radiant it made him smile just for a moment until he saw Daryl touch you back, his hand rested tenderly on the small of your back. He couldn’t look away despite wanting to.

“If you’re not gonna work you can go back to your cell” Brandon spoke, pulling Negan's attention away from you.

“I wanna talk to Eugene” he grunted as he stood up from the flower bed.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be making those requests” the man teased, Negan only shooting him a look before the boy nodded. “I’ll see what I can do”

[whump-town]

Been Having A Hard Time Adjusting

Summary: Alternative to the peaceful homecoming of Emily Prentiss - Aaron Hotchner never truly comes home with her.

Warnings: medical trauma, amputation, scarring, blindness, mental health, hallucinations, sexual assault, self harm, and just sad stuff

Part One, Part Two

They find the sweet spot where nothing exists past the tip of his nose. Where his mind slips and he dissociates, gets caught in the old wall just a few feet away. In the spackled off-white paint. His eyes unfocused and unmoving. A nestled warmth where he finds himself outside his mind and body and bathed in entire numbness. Compliant to their overwhelmingly constant touches and questions. Without the heavy thrum of sedatives in his veins, he’ll kill himself. Tears stitches back open with his searching fingers to find where to dig and rip into the skin to feel the warmth of his blood.

“Is there someone we can call?” he’s given up. His fight depleted to leave him bareboned and dying. “You didn’t list anyone in your files but if you give us a name…” He hadn’t listed anyone for a reason. He’d wanted his death to be as nonexistent, as unpleasant as his life. So that the others might be given the chance to move on. So that his son will not think of him. He’ll slip through the cracks and they’ll just forget. It could go unnoticed. Now, he’ll be left to go slowly. They can place feeding tubes and restrain his mobile limbs but that will not breathe life back into him. He’s not active by any means but he’s reserved and he’s lost. He doesn't want to stay. He’s done.

He’s been fighting his whole life but he’s never been good at knowing when to give up.

There had been life in him, initially. In the back of his mind, he’d hoped for this eventual returning to his life. His old life. It’s a complicated, convoluted thought that he carries for a week. His presence of mind comes back slowly and the drugs can not hide what he knows intuitively. He finds the wounds on his face, holds his fingers near his right eye and the sight is… The doctors tell him it was shrapnel and that he’s lucky he has some sight in it at all and that there is no perceived brain damage. He looks at himself in the mirror. Looks at this man that he can not recognize.

There is a mass of bruises and wounds on his face. His eye isn’t easy to notice the pupil blown wide and a well-meaning doctor tells him that the scarring he’s typically used to seeing will happen over time. Just as many of the wounds on his face, they just need time to scar.

They sit with him, run their fingers along the wounds as they guess at which ones will heal and which ones he’ll never get rid of. “This one looks like lightning,” a nurse tells him like he’s supposed to appreciate finally understanding what Harry Potter looked like. Does she think Jack will appreciate that? That he’ll look at his father’s face and see a hero and not a horrible mess of these warped scars?

It’s sick, he knows. He’d never think these things about anyone else. But he looks in the mirror and he sees someone that he hates.

And it all goes to hell when Dave shows up.

It’s… He doesn’t know what day it is anymore but he’s turned away from the door of the room. Propped up on pillows and looking out the small window in his room. The physical therapist had come in to move him, forced him to practice moving from the bed to the wheelchair, and then from the wheelchair to the recliner, a nurse had kindly pushed in. He’s left alone because he’s content like this, turned like a flower to the sun. Eyes closed and nearly forgiving, compliant.

“Hotch...”

He jerks at the sudden intrusion. Panicking at the sight of the man before him. It’s a little too much. “D--Dave?” he hasn't spoken in so long that his voice grates and cracks. Tears sting his eyes and he chokes, crying as Dave steps towards him. Sobbing as Dave bends down and shakes his head, his own eyes filling with tears. “You came,” he whispers, leaning into the palm that Dave presses to his cheek. Warm and rough and here and he hadn’t realized how lonely he was. How tired of his own mind…

Dave looks like he always does, carefully suspended between two ages. His hair greying near the temples but his eyes betraying him and his age. He’s tanned, dressed softly in a way that makes Hotch feel like a young cadet all over again. As if he’s marching into the bullpen to meet his hero. But here he is. Dave is right here.

“You’re too thin,” Dave whispers, stroking his cheekbone. “Being a pain in their ass, huh?” He smiles, fondly and softly and Hotch feels its warmth in his chest, in his face. He nods and smiles even harder when Dave brings their heads together. Rustling Hotch’s hair playfully. “It’s good to see you, Hotch.”

He nods, unable to trust his voice. He closes his eyes, leans entirely into the touch.

“Aaron?”

He hums.

“I brought you lunch, sweetheart.”

Eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change, he opens his eyes. The room is empty. He’s still in the recliner. He looks for Dave, going frantic as he realizes there is no proof of Dave ever having been here. But he must have just fallen asleep. “I’m not hungry,” he whispers and lays limply, bites down against his tears as they hook up to the supplements they pump into him. The only way they can think to keep him alive for just a little longer.

Dave keeps coming.

He shows up as Hotch’s falling asleep, whispers through the exhaustion about the next morning. Smiles and assures Hotch he’ll be here when he wakes up. He never is. Emily comes. She brushes her fingers through his hair and he asks her to tell him one more time the names of the countries that she visited as a child. The ones she loved best. He needs her to do the accents to squeeze his hand and throw her head back with laughter but she squints her eyes. She shakes her head and never answers. Never tells him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Hotch blinks, confused but not nearly enough. Some part of him knows what this is but he needs them so desperately that it keeps him from falling apart. He’ll lean into this delusion because it is all he has. “No one,” he whispers but they know. The nurses, the doctors, the therapist. They've noticed.

He doesn’t know why (he knows exactly why).

There are no thoughts leading up to it (it’s everything, it’s all too much).

No ideations (he just wants to sleep…).

It hurts. He rips the IV from his hand with his teeth, grunting at the pain as the needle comes free. He means to run away but he looks down at his leg - to where his leg should be - and he sees red. He feels red. Digs his fingers into the gauze, crying out when he finds the stitches. The hole of mangled flesh and the warmth of his blood coating his fingers. He doesn’t get very far. Isn’t capable of enough damage - not to him, at least. He wants to do worse. To hit and scream and throw himself somewhere dark and cold to die.

He passes out in a puddle of his own blood. Wakes enough when the nurses come in, dragging in crash carts behind them. The head of the bed falling and his hands being moved away. He’s floating. Not really there. He feels the odd little dance of his heart in his chest like it’s stomping quickly to a rhythm not quite right.

He wakes… alive, unfortunately. They restrain him - his two mobile limbs. His left arm still pinned with crap he doesn’t care enough to look at. It’s not as humiliating as it would have been just a year ago. He’s too drugged, too laden to care about the strap they have to put over his thighs to keep him from moving the stump of his right leg. His right hand is held to the bed by the wrist. He looks at it, occasionally, tests the flection of the fingers, and sleeps.

He’s restrained for three weeks but he doesn’t try anything. Doesn’t move or speak. Just looks at the wall. For three weeks they watch him - it’s suicide watch but unbothered. He’s more of a pacifist, anyhow, maybe it would be helpful to know that’s a return of character for him - to just wither away instead. For a week they have this grey area where he’s never left alone during the day and the restraints go back on during the night. They turn on the TV and try to get him to eat but he can’t or maybe he just won’t. He ignores them.

Dave doesn’t come back.

He’s just too tired to care anymore.

He’s there for a month and makes no progress.

“Agent Hotchner.” His physical therapist lets himself into the room. There’s no use in asking to come in, he won’t answer. “I was thinking we work on transfers today,” the other man informs him. He pushes the wheelchair into the room. There’s no point in working with prosthetics, he fluctuates in weight too dangerously to keep them to size. Besides, he is too weak. Too weathered and caved to hold himself up. His left leg is cramped in that bed. He isn’t’ strong enough.

Hotch doesn’t do what they ask but he goes numbly into their directions. Spurring to life like a machine before sputtering back out. He’ll sit up but his movement is mechanical.

He goes elsewhere because they can’t come here.

To Derek. Falling asleep after long cases in the backseat of whatever beat-up car Gideon rented, their shoulders rocking back and forth. Waking for just a moment either leaning, if not held, in Morgan's lap or to find the other man sleeping on him. The unspoken nature of the two of them. Laughing in the bullpen and the time that he carried Morgan across a field because they fell down from some rafters of a barn that Gideon warned them about. They made it to the driveway and laid atop one another called Gideon to come get them. He remembers cracking his eyes open when Gideon had stood over him, shaking his head. “The two of you are nothing but trouble.”

It distracts him from the pain and the way that he can still feel his right leg. They tell him it’s phantom pain but he feels it. He wakes in the middle of the night certain he can wrap his fingers around where an ankle or a calf would be. Is certain his toes hit the end of the bed. He moves to transfer from the bed to the wheelchair and he still tries to put either on a leg that isn’t there.

He’s stationary and that’s how they find him.

Penelope finds him on Tuesday and it feels far too much like the morning she spent frantically calling hospitals to find him. His name isn’t given - not public because he’s American and he’s in a veterans hospital because the federal government won’t fork over the money it’s going to take to airlift him home. Besides, he’s got no family listed. No one to call and raise hell to get him home. No one to care. It’s hard to say they did until just a week ago… Hotch was always good at hiding in the emotional sense but he’s never been good at hiding himself. It made his childhood miserable for reasons with much higher stakes than just children’s hide and go seek.

Dave goes because the plane ticket is nothing and his absence will be fine. Emily tries to come but he tells her to stay, makes her stay. Hotchs’ done all this for a reason and he fears the state he’s going to find him in. Never mind, Emily’s still dead to Hotch - still someone who is dying and needs protection. It’s too much.

Dave drives an hour to Washington D.C. and takes a one stop flight straight to Pakistan. It’s nearly eighteen hours and with too little sleep he arrives at the hospital at 3 p.m.

David had taken to Hotch effortlessly. He’s just that sort of person-- the sort that draws you in with their mystery, with the kindness they couldn’t be bothered to pretend it’s so challengingly genuine. That’s just how Hotch’s always been. Honest but somehow so intuitive, knew things you could never remember telling him but right still. Always says the right things without ever telling you a thing. Until you’re a decade into a friendship with him and you can’t remember if he’s from the east coast or if he’s from the south or maybe if he’s ever had a pet or even what his favorite color is. Not because you didn’t pay attention but because he’s careful. Never tells more than necessary and he’s got that perfected.

And it’s how Dave knows something isn’t right.

Because Hotch could be dying and he’d never bother you. He’d never put you off by asking for a thing.

“At the two week mark he got an infection, his right leg was severely damaged in the accident. The wound and the leg started to necrotize. His organs started to shut down. Sepsis set in--”

Dave’s eyes snap to the doctor’s, sepsis. He looks back to the man in question. Hotch had this way about him, the way he moved and breathed and lived like those old stop motion pictures. Every moment so carefully constructed to create this flowing motion, entirely soundless. Dave has always thought he looked like the grasshopper from James and the Giant Peach with his too long limbs. Thin and pliable. Now, he rests heavily. That grace and flow stolen from him.

“Agent Rossi?” Dave tears his eyes away from Hotch, forces himself to concentrate once again on the doctor. “He’s… He’s been experiencing some rather unpleasant signs of post-traumatic stress. He won’t speak to the therapists on staff--” The doctor looks hopelessly to the man so oblivious to them. “We had to perform a unilateral bk-- we-- I amputated his right leg just below the knee.” By that time, Hotch had lost his abilities to make these decisions himself. Mind ravished by fevers, he was hallucinating. Seeing people that weren’t there.

Dave feels a knot form in his throat as his eyes wander. Slowly over those thin shoulders, down the curve of his back and the bones betray, the bones that protrude through his thin t-shirt. Down to… to see where one foot sits in the rest and the other stops. Where they’ve tied the access material of his sweatpants off.

“He has a prosthetic,” the doctor sighs. “We’ve had to resize it twice. We can’t-- We can’t do it again.” The doctor looks so impossibly exhausted. “They have to be... the prosthetics are advanced but fluctuations in weight ten pounds, even, that throws them off. He can’t keep weight on him and so we size them and then he loses more weight and he’s not getting stronger.” And it’s pointless. He won’t walk on the damn things. Refuses aids and he could walk, by now he could likely run and leap and move but he refuses much else aside that damned wheelchair. “He’s damaged the nerves, the bone, that I don’t know if he’ll be able to use a prosthetic.”

Dave doesn’t need any of that explained to him.

He understands it all too well.

Dave shakes his head. Clearing his throat rouses through his trousers, pulls out his wallet, “if money is the issue--” He hands the man the cards Dave thinks he might need. “Size them,” he asks. “Size them one more time and let me take him home.”

The doctor shakes his head, “Agent, maybe… maybe I’ve betrayed your confidence here.” He sighs, “sir, he’s not well. He doesn’t speak. Not to a soul except in his sleep and he screams. In-- In agony, in fear. He wakes and he has no memory of this happening. Denies our therapy. He doesn’t eat. He sustains on intravenous fluids and a feeding tube which he once fought but now doesn’t even… He’s prone to chronic infections.” The doctor frowns sympathetically to Dave and he is truly upset with this prognosis. Of his patients' negligence to himself and it might be good to finally have someone here for the man but he can not be released. Not without imminent danger. It couldn’t even be recommended he make the trip to another hospital.

“Do what you can?” Dave pleads.

And the doctor wants to break down, to confirm that they have. Everything they can think of. From tough love to entirely too understanding. Everything they have ever been trained to do. He isn’t responding. But Dave isn’t hearing it.

Dave crouches down in front of Hotch, placing himself directly in his line of sight. “Hotch?” He reaches, slowly, up towards him because Dave knows to expect a flinch. No matter how many miles Hotch puts between himself and his childhood, it still comes back in the little moments like these. But Dave’s fingers ghost across cold, pale flesh and there is nothing. No flinch or recoil or even an in-take of startled breath. Only empty eyes.

He’s still so foolishly hopeful. There has to be something, an ember to send to life. He’s just in need of a little poking, the right words and the right commands and he’ll come back. “Hotch,” Dave calls once more. He smiles, cupping Hotch’s cold cheek in the palm of his hand. “Aaron,” he amends because, of course, Hotch won’t answer to his first name. It’s impersonal. Everyone knows it. Hotch is sacred. It’s something entirely their own.

Dave had assumed the doctor was a fool. What could this stranger know about his Aaron? But… this isn’t even his Hotch. This isn’t Hotch at all.

David Rossi has no idea who this man is but he’s not Hotch.

The physical therapist makes his way over, wheelchair pushed out in front of him as he edges closer. Looking between Dave and Hotch, trying to make sure the doctor’s okay for him to come is genuinely welcomed. Dave stands up out of the way, taking a short step back as he watches, numbly, the way the therapist talks to Hotch. The gentle way he kneels down and makes sure that Hotch’s eyes find him before he speaks again. “How are you doing, big guy? Up for the trip back?” he gets no answer, which Dave is growing to find less and less surprising.

“Alright,” the therapist answers as if Hotch has said something, like he’s even acknowledged the other man’s presence. “I think that pretty nurse--” the therapist locks the wheelchair and sets it up for ease transfer. “You remember?” the therapist asks all without breaking stride, like he’s having an active conversation with Hotch. “Well, I”m sure you remember, don’t you? You know, the pretty nurse Amy? Tall? Brunette? Damn, man, I swear I’m in love.” The therapist taps Hotch’s right knee and it spurs Hotch to life. He sits up and the therapist keeps talking as Hotch makes slow, lazy movements to push himself to the edge of the chair. “She asked me out for drinks tonight.” The therapist puts his arms under Hotch's, ready to step in and guide if Hotch can't do it himself. “I’m getting drinks with the hot nurse, isn’t that great?”

Dave watches silently.

Hotch maneuvers himself easily enough, his left hand is still covered in bandages, but he places his weight on one arm and one leg. The movement isn’t entirely sophisticated but it gets him where he needs to be - seated in the wheelchair without help from either of them men standing close.

The physical therapist kicks the breaks down. His smile startles Dave, mostly because of its brightness despite the dreary mood of everything else around them. The physical therapist grins at both of them - his spit and shine nearly a bit too much. “So,” the therapist hums. “Do I need to worry about this guy taking my spot as your best friend? I mean, we’re friends, right, but do we have to compete for the throne of best friend?”

Hotch’s head raises, glancing up at the therapist and Dave feels himself choke, as if punched at the look in his eyes. They stop, the therapist shooting Dave a glance before he kneels down. He places a hand on Hotch’s leg, the two of them eye-level with one another. The therapist clears his throat, solemnly offering, “he’s real, Aaron.” He glances up at Dave, motioning him closer.

Dave takes a stiff step closer - biting down to prevent himself from huffing an agitated breath at the younger man when he’s only beckoned closer. Until he’s kneeling down beside Hotch as well, his chest tight at the way Hotch’s eyes dart to him but seek comfort in the therapist.

“Who is this, Aaron?”

Hotch’s eyes dart to Dave, his dry lips parting but falling closed without an answer. He looks away, flushing with embarrassment at his inadequacy. Dave feels his throat tighten like a vice, begging someone to explain what’s happening here. He’d been told Hotch didn’t have any brain damage and that while nightmares and hallucinations had plagued his waking state, he was fine. Those were symptoms of PTSD and the hallucinations had abated and likely, the nightmares would too once his physical body is able to start to heal.

“You know,” the therapist prods. “Introduce me, Hotch.”

Dave moves, shifting as if to speak to beat Hotch to the chase and the therapist cuts him a look. He doesn’t say a word.

“Aaron,” the physical therapist takes his unharmed hand, trying to solidify Hotch’s attention. “Please? He’s real. Just like you and I, okay? You can tell me.”

Hotch turns his attention to his knees and Dave feels his conviction, feels the way Hotch has solidified his final opinion - Dave isn’t here. He looks at his lap, pulling his hand back to pick at his nails. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. He can’t bring himself to say it. Doesn't want to look at Dave and have him disappear again. Doesn’t want to feel his heart get broken again when Dave disappears.

Dave is stopped, he means to move forward to maybe grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. Hotch does know. Of course he knows. Dave has known him since he was a twenty-something punk-ass kid with untailored suits and a shitty Windsor knot. He’s his best friend…

“Okay,” the therapist caves and shoots Dave a look that conveys all that it needs to: he’s to fall back. “That’s okay,” the therapist assures him. It’s pointless, Hotch has worked himself to the point of tears over what Dave had thought was a simple question and Dave feels like he’s been kicked in the head.

They go on without another word. None of them speaking. Dave watches Hotch cry, a few soft tears that trail down his face while he glares down at his lap. He wants to say something. To reassure Hotch or to remind him. Hell, anything is better than this silence that they’ve fallen into.

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part IX

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 2,883

Note: Sorry for the delay :(

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8

“I’m glad nothing serious happened to you or your friend.” Tyrion poured himself some wine and you accepted to drink with him.

“Me too.”

���I know you are a hero but I sense something else here... why you keep taking those risks for her?” He curiously asked.

“She has no one...” That was true, still, you were trying to keep your feelings buried.

“You love her.” You hid your blush behind the silver cup. He chuckled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. She seems to be a good Lady. With all that your brother has done to her having you is a blessing.”

“You... you’re okay with it?” Loving her in secret was one thing but saying it out loud to someone was a different one.

“Of course! I could never judge you. You don’t dictate your heart, you have all my support, Y/N.” He warmly smiled, you bent down to hug him. This is one of the many reasons you love your uncle so much.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Now I fully understand why you did that yesterday. Does she know?” He walked to the balcony gesturing you to follow him.

“No. And maybe it’s all in my head.” You brushed it off. “She sees me as her very good chum who saves her from my horrendous family.”

“Or perhaps she’s just afraid to admit it. After all, you are the princess. It’s not that easy. You’ll figure it out.” He tapped your shoulder. Could Sansa really feel the same? Nothing’s impossible, you just have to give it time and be patient. But with the way she looks at you... how you find comfort in her embraces... how she gently touches your hand...

You made your way to the Stark girl’s room to check on her just to find the door wide open and a scared Sansa with the bed stained of blood, her nightgown had red stains too.

The Hound was there, you scowled. You knew he was going to tell Cersei, and that was the last thing the redhead wanted. Shae arrived shortly.

“Good morning.” You said.

“Princess.” Sandor and Shae greeted. Your gaze landed on Sansa, the tears were threatening to come out. She didn’t say anything.

“I will inform the Queen.” He stated and left. Sansa threw herself into your arms. You could feel her tensing and quivering.

“Hey hey, it’s gonna be fine. He’s not gonna touch you.” You promise her, you would do anything to keep him away from her, even if that meant being punished.

“You should take a bath before you meet her grace.” The young handmaid said.

“I’m going to wait outside until you are finished, then I’ll escort you to my mother’s chambers. Don’t worry, my lady. I got you.” You assured. Her features relaxed and you gave her a small nod.

You tried to come with excuses for your mother to not force her to carry Joffrey’s babies immediately but nothing with a valid point seemed to be compelling enough.

After she was done you headed to her big room. “How is your wound?” You added to soothe the hike.

“Better. You are a very good healer.” She shyly answered.

“One of my many gifts.” You winked to ease her nerves. The Queen Regent was already expecting her, yet she was not very surprised when you showed up behind Sansa, you let her entered first.

“My love, what are you doing here?” Cersei asked you, raising her eyebrow.

“I... thought I’d give Lady Sansa some advice, I flowered almost two years ago. I know it is grubby at first.”

“It certainly is. But her mother prepared her, didn’t she?”

“She told me. I thought... it would be different.” Sansa confessed.

“In what way?” You both took a seat.

“I thought it would be less... less messy.”

“Wait until you birth a child. You’re a woman now, do you know what that means?”

“I’m fit to bear children for the King.” Yes, your heart was breaking again.

“Is there any rush?” You intervened and Cersei faked a sympathetic smile.

“The sooner the better.” She made a flick for you to keep your mouth shut. Your jaw tensed. “A prospect that once delighted you. The greatest honor for a queen. Joffrey has always been difficult. Even his birth, I labored one day and a half to bring him into this world. You cannon imagine the pain. I screamed so loud I was sure Robert would hear me in the Kingswood.”

“His grace was not with you?”

“Robert was hunting. Whenever my time was near, he would flee to the trees with his huntsmen and his hounds. The only time he was with me was when Y/N was born. I’ll always remember how she wrapped her little hand around his finger, she smiled at him and that was the only time in my life I saw a tear fell from his cheek. It was too emotional.”

You missed him so badly, the stories he used to tell you about Westeros, the adventures he had when he was a young Lord, the thrill in his eyes when he saw you swing the sword for the first time, he taught you all about archery, about bravery. When you were feeling low because of Joffrey and your mother he would carry you in his arms and then ride far from the city in your horses. You missed those days cause in the dark moments he was your hero.

“You never told me that before.”

“You were your father’s favorite.” Then she referred to Sansa. “Joffrey will show you no such devotion. You may never love the King but you will love his children.” She told her calmly.

“I love his grace with all my heart.” Sansa lied in her usual innocent voice.

“That’s very touching to hear. Permit me to share some womanly wisdom with you on this special day. The more people you love, the weaker you are. You’ll do things for them that you know you shouldn’t do. You’ll act the fool to make them happy, to keep them safe. Love no one but your children. On that front, a mother has no choice.” Was it so hard for Cersei to love you as much as she loved your siblings? To support you and be there for you?

“But shouldn’t I love Joffrey, your grace?”

“You can try, little dove. My sweet daughter here, she will be marrying some Lord very soon. I think it’s time for you to start your own family.” The blonde abruptly added. Sansa felt her stomach twist itself into an uncomfortable knot.

“That means I will have to leave you, mother.” You complained. Cersei doesn’t want to end up alone, Jaime is a prisoner, you don’t know if you’re going to see him again. But she doesn’t want you to abandon her, deep down does she care? A question you often ask yourself.

“You grew too fast. You are my oldest daughter, any man who has your heart will be very lucky. Many of them are interested in you.” Your eyes were set only on Sansa Stark, even if you couldn’t be together.

“But I’m not interested in them.” You pointed out. Was she trying to send you away just because you were willing to keep protecting Sansa at all costs, or did she really wanted to get rid of you?

You and the northerner walked out. You let go of those thoughts. Focusing on her again you broke the silence. “There’ll be a battle soon. My uncle’s army will arrive anytime. Joffrey is going to be busy. I’m always here for you, Sansa.” You reassured once more, for her to know she’s not alone.

“I feel trapped. But when you’re around... you make everything better.” Hearing that made you feel a wave of joy. She blushed and gods, your face was the color of her hair too.

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” You said smiling sincerely at her. She smiled back at you.

The following days passed so very fast, now you were helping uncle Tyrion do some researching on books to find information to use for the incoming battle. The King himself apparently is occupied torturing people and animals to care for his Kingdoms. Bronn was there too, your uncle thought he’d come with some ideas for the defense of the city.

You were distracted, to say the least, your mind wandering in the redhead beauty, in how she seemed to be troubled almost all the time.

“Dear niece, I need your cleverness.” You came out of your trance.

“We are very lucky to have you as Hand of the King, uncle, otherwise we’d be doomed. And I mean it, no sarcasm. I want to join you in the field.” Tyrion wasn’t expecting to hear that statement. You knew you could be effective.

“What? Absolutely not. The last time in the riot the gods were good and you were unharmed. This is way different. I know you are brave, just like Robert was, but I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. Let alone the fact your mother won’t allow it.”

“I can take care of myself. Joffrey won’t last a moment there. Maybe I can coax him to fight along his men.”

“I wish you could. He won’t listen.”

“I’ll do it anyway.”

“So stubborn. My brain might explode before I find something helpful. ‘A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros.’ By Archmaester Shevelathin. Shevelatesh.”

“Ch’Vyalythan.” You corrected him.

“Are you sure?” You shrugged.

“My Princess. Lord Hand. Commander. I must compliment you on the Gold Cloak’s performance last few weeks. Did you know there has been a marked drop in thievery?” Lord Varys said entering the room.

“How did you accomplish this?”

“Me and the lads rounded up all the known thieves.” Bronn nonchalant replied.

“For questioning?”

“No. It’s just the unknown thieves we need to worry about now.”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Have you ever been on a city under siege? Maybe this part is not in your books. See, it’s not the fighting that kills most people. It’s the starving. Food’s worth more than gold. The thieves love a siege. Soon as the gates are sealed they steal all of it. By the time it’s all over, they’re the richest men in town.”

“Yes, I believe extreme measures are warranted. Ah ‘The Great Sieges of Westeros.’ Thrilling subject, shame archmaester Ch’Vyalthan wasn’t a better writer.” Varys referred to the big book on the table.

“Uncle Stannis knows King’s Landing, he knows where we are the strongest and where we are the weakest. We need to be cautious. Take him down before he arrives at the gates.” Now you were focusing, strategy was essential.

“That’s it! The Mud Gate. A good ram will batter it down in minutes, and it’s only fifty yards from the water. That’s where he’ll land.” Tyrion affirmed certainly.

“If he does attack at the Mud Gate, what is our plan?” Varys curiously inquired. Tyrion looked at you, and then back at him.

“Wildfire.” He said.

After discussing the tactics you went to share some time with Sansa, she is one of the few people who gives you peace. Little Tommen was on his reading lessons. She was embroidering a red scarf with two lions on the top. Your heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Shae is not here?”

“I dismissed her an hour ago.” Then she stood up. “A present for you.”

“Why do I owe the pleasure?” You admired her flawless needlework.

“Because you always save me. You are always there for me. I don’t know how can I ever repay you.”

“You don’t have to, you know I do it cause I love you I’m your friend. But I appreciate the gift though. It is a very fine design.” She flushed, seeing her like this is very cute.

“You think... your brother is going to defeat Lord Stannis?”

“Brave men will fight. I have faith in them and in my uncle’s plan. I-I might... get involved.”

“Is this a bad joke?” She looked at you perplexed.

“I’m afraid is not.”

“Y/N, you could die! You are strong but still too young to go to war. And you are a princess.” Sansa winced. You squeezed gently her arm.

“I won’t die. I heard uncle Renly had in his Kingsguard a female warrior. And what about Visenya Targaryen? She was a fantastic skilled warrior as well. She fought alongside Aegon in his conquest, and in the First Dornish War. Also, she was a dragon rider, she bonded with the one called Vhagar. And had a Valyrian steel longsword named Dark Sister. I wish I had one.” You commented, utterly excited. Sansa didn’t really like the topic but her eyes lighted up every time you talked about something you were passionate about.

“You never cease to amaze me, you know so much about these things. I understand now why Arya and you got along so well.” And it’s true, you wished she was here, you missed the youngest Stark girl running around the castle. “But still, I don’t like the idea of you being out there. It’s too dangerous. You said you weren’t going anywhere.” She mumbled the last sentence.

“Trust me.” You held her hands on your own.

“Just be careful, please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I will be. And I’ll never leave you.”

You were walking side by side with the King, Varys, and Tyrion on the eastern walls.

“If my uncle Stannis lands on the shores of King’s Landing, I’ll ride out to greet him.” Joffrey smugly spoke.

“A brave choice, your grace. I’m sure your men will line up behind you.” Tyrion subtly jeered.

“They say he never smiles. I’ll give him a red smile from ear to ear.” You rolled your eyes, knowing he wouldn’t stand a chance against him on his own. Lord Varys and your uncle began to converse with each other.

“Hey, Y/N. I heard you want to join us in the fight.” He said in a mocking way.

“You think I’m not capable?”

“Exactly. You are a woman. Not that I really care about what happens to you. You’ll die out there.”

“You have little faith in me, big brother. But still, I’m way better than you in almost everything.” You squinted your lips. “No! In absolutely everything. Don’t worry, I’ll pray for our victory.”

“I already know your whore friend has flowered. I’ll come to visit her right after I kill our uncle.” He hissed and you didn’t punch him right away right there cause you held back your fury. He was provoking you, you would get your knuckles bloody for Sansa if he goes too far.

“...They say he burns his enemies alive to honor the Lord of Light.” You joined the conversation between the two men.

“The Lord of Light wants his enemies burnt. The Drowned God wants them drowned. Why are all the gods such vicious cunts? Where is the god of tits and wine?” Tyrion wittily questioned.

“In the Summer Isles, they worship a fertility goddess with sixteen teats.” Varys responded.

“We should sail there immediately.” You smirked.

“Lord Varys, do you know anything new about the Targaryen girl?" Some nights you wonder, if your father hadn't won the Rebellion she would be here, this would be her home, she was exiled so she could survive, she was forced to marry a savage, her family is dead, the world is such a cruel place... and when you are a helpless girl it gets worse, what if things had turned out differently? And you were the one on the other side of the world, maybe that's one of the main reasons why you sympathized with her.

“This morning, I heard a song all the way from Qarth beyond the Red Waste. Daenerys Targaryen lives.”

“That’s a relief.” You said.

“A relief? She has three dragons. But even if what they say is true, it’ll be years before they are fully grown. And then there will be nowhere to hide.” Varys argued.

“She’s on the edge of the world, the least of our problems.” Uncle Tyrion tried to sound unconcerned.

“Three baby dragons? How is that possible?” They were extinct for almost three hundred years. How she managed to bring them back?

“Princess, do you consider it was wise to let her live? If you knew then what you do now... would you persuade his grace to give the order? She might be a threat soon enough, she will claim the throne-“

“Maybe she’s not interested in it. Not everyone is. Especially the rightful heirs. She did nothing wrong.”

“Yet.”

“I don’t regret my choice. I wouldn’t change it if I could.” You were confident, she’s innocent, one game at the time, you thought. Just because her ancestors were evil doesn’t mean she is evil too.

“You are so selfless, and good. Westeros might need a Queen like you.” Varys remarked.

“I’m no Queen, my Lord.” The throne belongs to you more than to Joffrey that was for sure, but how can you overthrow snakes that know your weaknesses and can use them to sting and hurt you the most?

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: The Medic

(A/N: Takes place somewhere around ten years after Arya leaves Ellesméra and joins the Varden. I’ll probably do another fic going into the injury that sent her back to Ellesméra for further healing {something that occurs probably every other year or so, as she’s not a skilled healer and none of the medics in the Varden know elf biology} at a later date. Cheers! Oh, and a reminder, 20 years old is around 10 in human years apparently, or at least how we’re going for MIC. Cheers again!)

Arya leaned back in her chair, eyeing the elf across the small camp table as he scribbled out another note in the Varden medical file spread before him.

Glenwing was the first and only person on Arya’s personal, official squad. He had trotted up to her a day before she was to leave Ellesméra and handed off orders straight from the Queen that he was to become her medic in the field. Even after multiple readings and consultations with Oromis, the orders were clear and gave no leeway or loophole through which Arya could escape. Despite her obviously annoyed acceptance at his sudden addition, Glenwing seemed unfazed and calm throughout the entire process, and set out with his new commanding officer the following morning.

They had reached the edge of the forest now, camped upriver from Ceris at Arya’s request. Three weeks in Ellesméra had left her antsy and entirely fed up with the prim and proper etiquette that made open speech so damned difficult in the pines, something she had not missed in her years with the Varden. Glenwing hadn’t protested in the least, and had spent a majority of the time setting up camp asking her questions about her previous injuries, examining scars, and doing his best to ease into the more personal questions of mental health that he hadn’t had time to ask before they left Ellesméra.

The silver haired elf signed a stop glyph at the end of his most recent note in the margins of Arya’s file before tapping his pen against his lip. “Any trouble sleeping in the past six months? Falling asleep, staying asl–”

“Are you going to report all this to the Queen?” Glenwing looked up, somewhat startled by the sudden interjection. Arya had her arms folded now, regarding him with that solid stare that expected answers and would take no deflection or lie that he could give. “I’m assuming that’s why she assigned you to me. People weren’t exactly lining up behind me to join the Varden, so I doubt you volunteered. Plus, after this long she’s probably realized that I need to return to Du Weldenvarden to be fully healed after larger injuries so she’s probably not keen on giving me more time away from her influence and reach. So there has to be another reason that supersedes that. A way for her to influence and keep tabs on me while I’m away as well as while I’m in the pines.”

Glenwing straightened from where he had been leaning on the table and carefully placed his pen parallel to the top of the file before meeting Arya’s hardened gaze with his steady one. “Do you want me to?” There was a soft curiosity behind his golden eyes.

The question seemed to catch the other elf off guard. Arya blinked, lips parted to snap a retort that now didn’t seem necessary.

“I won’t lie to you.” Glenwing continued. “The Queen has asked– or rather, she has ordered– that I report back on your status and any developments in your mental and physical health.” Anger flashed through Arya’s countentance, but before she could spit out a string of swears the elf across from her held up a finger. “However. You’re wrong about me volunteering. I’m here because I want to be, not just because the Queen accepted my offer. That means that I have willingly taken you on as a patient, and while I am a subject of our Queen’s rule, I am also your medic and doctor.”

“Look, I don’t care if you’re a ‘subject of the Queen’ first.” Arya snapped. The phrase seemed to have set her off enough to break through the final barrier of elvish manners that remained as she cut him off. “If you’re going to be telling the Queen every little thing about me, I’m just not going to accept your help. You might as well go back home, alright?”

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Glenwing replied, voice calm yet lacking the patronizing edge that Arya had expected. “I’m saying that as my patient, you have complete control over your care, including who, and when, I give information to regarding it and your status in the past, present and future.

“If you don’t want me to inform the Queen as she ordered, I won’t, and I’ll tell her as much. I’m one of the Queen subjects, yes, but now that you are my patient my purpose here is to keep you alive, and I can’t exactly do that if you refuse care or don’t trust me.”

Arya was silent for a long moment, the silver haired elf’s words sinking in. The elven nation was a monarchy, yes, but there was always an understanding that any elf could act independently unless called to war in defense. Even then there was a choice of remaining behind to tend to the forest and those who returned. Orders given in common elvish, even from the Queen, were considered the rule of law, but in actuality could be challenged or even ignored if the individual thought the orders would cause more harm than good. It could incur the wrath of the Queen, yes, but there was no formal system of punishment beyond the decision of the council. Or, in personal cases such as Arya’s own, the decision of the Queen herself.  

That being said, most people followed their orders when they were given, and as such things were rare it was unusual to find an elf that was quite as willing as Arya to bend or break the rules so to speak. Yet here one was, practically raising his eyebrows in quiet eagerness to open loopholes and ignore centuries of custom all for a chance to…

…to what?

Arya chose her words carefully. “Glenwing…why are you doing this?” She gestured to the square photographs that were scattered on one side of the medical file, images detailing the numerous wounds of note, most in their unhealed state, that the young elf had incurred over the course of just a little over a decade of service in the Varden. “You’ve seen what it does physically. Magic can heal but I think we both know that the scars of the mind do not close so easily. I’ve almost died more times than I can count and watched countless others who were not so lucky lose their lives on and off the battlefield.”

“I’ve seen war, Arya. I’ve not participated in one, but I’ve seen the damage it does.”

“Then why join me?” Arya leaned her elbows on the table, shoulders hunched as her brows furrowed. “Why? I have my reasons, some of them more morally sound and others more or less reprehensible, and the things I’ve already done to further the goal of toppling Galbatorix… I’ve done some terrible shit. I’m not going to skirt around that. You know that you’ll probably have to do similar things, get blood other than that of your patients on your hands. So why? Why risk everything like this?”

Glenwing held her gaze for a time before lowering his eyes to the table. With a fingertip he rearranged the pictures, aligning the edges so that they fanned out and displayed a gruesome line of war wounds over the years. “…I’m not much older than you are, you know.”

“…Pardon?”    

His lips twisted up slightly in sad eyed grin. “I was eighteen when the Fall began. My father was a healer, my mother a warrior.” Gently, with the back of a fingernail, he dragged out one of the pictures, the one of the ragged stab wound to the abdomen that sent Arya back to Ellesméra most recently. “She died of an injury similar to this one. That’s what they told me at least.” Glenwing raised his eyes to meet Arya’s, gauging her reaction to his next words. “She was in the final group that the King led. My father died beside her as he tried to heal her. They were bathed in dragonfire. Nothing to bury.

“I watched my father treat wounds like all of these as the injured returned. He never stopped trying to help, down to the last second of his life, and mother never stopped fighting for our people.” He spread his hands out. “I cannot sit by knowing that I could do the same.”

The he paused. “And there is another thing.”

Arya swallowed. The mention of her father and the battle that had felled not only him but Glenwing’s parents as well made her mouth go dry. The final moments of the conflict before Galbatorix hunted Vrael always did. “Oh?”

“You said that I should go home if I was to report on your condition to the Queen. I cannot return home, which only leaves obeying your orders and remaining as your medic my only option.”  

Glenwing’s feral, bared tooth smile shocked a flash of familiarity and kinship through Arya’s mind. She had seen that smile on her own face before, that wild unrestrained drive to right the wrongs of the world, to take on war and violence so that others could be at peace, tenuous as it was.  

“You see, Arya…I was born in Ilirea. With Galbatorix on the throne, I have no home to return to.”

~~~

To Queen Islanzadí, Your Majesty.

After a lengthy consult with the combat liaison I have been assigned, it has come to my attention that the mentioned patient, Arya, house of none, is against the sharing of medical information beyond a set of predetermined ailments and injuries. As I am bound first to act in the best interest of my patient, I must oblige by her requests. Arya has also indicated that any sharing of information without her consent would result in her refusing any treatment or healing by my hand, which has further forced this issue as she has displayed sufficient aptitude for wards that would block any of my attempts to heal her if the conditions presented were broken in any way.

However, Arya has agreed to allow the sharing of some small yet vital pieces of information concerning her health as seen fit. Thus, any injury resulting in amputation, permanent blindness or hearing loss, traumatic brain damage, complete mind breaking or death will be reported. Arya has impressed on me that she will continue to aid the Varden in the event of non-lethal injuries, and any report of the previous wounds will also include an evaluation on how she can continue to aid the Varden in her current state.

I apologize that I cannot carry out the full extent of your orders. Unfortunately, it is clear that any deviation from the agreed upon conditions that Arya has set would likely result in severe injury to Arya’s person and would constitute reckless and wanton disregard for my patient’s safety and health on mine. I cannot in good conscience go against her wishes, nor can I do so if my conscience were to tolerate it. Arya has forced me to agree to these conditions in the Ancient Language, and I cannot break my oath.

I continue to serve to the best of my ability, and will do my utmost to ensure Arya’s health is taken care of.

May the stars watch over you.

Yours in service,  

Glenwing of House Svanran.

Islanzadí folded the letter again, put her elbows on her desk, and allowed herself a long, frustrated sigh.

Leave it to Arya to ferret out her reasoning for accepting Glenwing’s offer and so quickly appeal to the young elf’s sense of ethical duty. A political force the Queen’s daughter was not, but she still had a knack for picking up on a person’s true motives and finding ways to fit them around her own.

However, this was faster than anticipated. Maybe this Glenwing’s true motives weren’t what he presented to Islanzadí at all. There had been something about his energy that seemed familiar. The Queen now recognized it as a glimmering thread of that determination and wild resolve that Arya so openly displayed.

But what to do now? Islanzadí rubbed her temples, a headache coming on. She knew that there was little she could threaten them with if she ordered Glenwing to return to Ellesméra. The young elf had volunteered after all, and even under duress Islanzadí doubted she could convince any other elf as skilled as he was to abandon their calm life in Du Weldenvarden for years of conflict and uncertainty outside the forest’s protective stands. And she couldn’t just call him back and not send a replacement, not with the state Arya had been in when she finally made it back to Ellesméra. What little Oromis had told the Queen of her wayward daughter’s injuries past and present clearly indicated that an attached medic was a necessity if there was any hope of Arya making it through the war alive.

So what to do….

The clatter of talons on well-polished wood sent a cascade of jolts through Islanzadí’s burgeoning headache, the pops and clicks that followed doing nothing to help the pain.

“The latch is open, Blagden.” The Queen leaned back in her chair and massaged her forehead as the white raven swooped in. Blagden alighted on the desk with a gentle flap of his wings to slow his speed and cocked his head at her, looking smug as he always did. He parted his beak slightly. “Don’t you say i–”

“Wyrda!”

Even as the Queen winced at the cried word the raven flipped a small, densely folded paper onto the desk with a flourish of his leg. He pecked at it twice before fluttering to his carved stand on the back of the chair, settling in before starting his usual fastidious preening.

Confused, Islanzadí picked up the folded note. It hadn’t been but an hour since Glenwing’s letter had arrived, but the glyph that graced the fold of this paper was the one Arya always used. Blagden must have dropped it while flying and went back to retrieve it. The Queen unfolded it with a hint of trepidation in her heart, as always accompanied any correspondence with her banished child.

The young elf’s handwriting had started to take on a sharper shape, but was no less bold in its strokes. It still held the same familiar base that reminded Islanzadí so much of those days that Arya would scamper into her mother’s study and throw notes of love for her mother and records of her daily adventures onto the desk before scampering out, giggling as she departed for her next escapade. All those notes still sat in the drawer to Islanzadí’s left, bittersweet.

The headache throbbed, chasing away the memories. The Queen focused in again, and was somewhat surprised to find only a few short sentences.

Stars watch over you.

Good medic. Intelligent, can toe lines if needed. Fixed a scar issue in short order. I like this one. Requesting permanent assignment.

~ Arya of Du Weldenvarden, combat liaison officer  

Islanzadí frowned slightly as she caught sight of a different handwriting in the bottom corner. It was Glenwing’s, and she couldn’t help but chuckle as she read it aloud. “Please?”

Maybe this Glenwing would be a good influence after all. With that in mind, and the comfort of Arya now less likely to return maimed (or not at all), Islanzadí picked up her pen.

Granted.  May the stars watch over you. Queen Islanzadí.

[clockworkgraystairs]

KEEP IT DOWN || Jurdan - Hogwarts AU

Written super super late for Jurdan Week 2020 by @jurdannet​ Sorry for the delay!!

Crossover Day || Harry Potter  

Prompt submited by @mysweetvilllain​

Rating: M

Summary: Quidditch day was no normal day at Hogwarts. And Ravenclaw’s head boy, Cardan Greenbriar, knew it very well. 

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @aesthetics-11​ @thesirenwashere​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @b00kworm​ (if you wish to be tagged or untagged [or if my dumb brain forgot to tag u] just let me know!)

My masterlist

Hogwarts was always a battlefield on a quidditch day, and today was not the exception. Not in the final game of their Championship. So far, Cardan had broke up two discussions and dissolved a duel challenge between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin.

To be honest, he would have prefered to stay back in his dorms. His book about Asian Myths and History was way more interesting than keeping the students safe. Specially from themselves. But as Head Boy, there was little he could do against it. 

That evening Slytherin had won the match, and boy had it been a hot-blooded one. Brooms had flown through the rain at unimaginable speed. The seekers, entwined in a fierce battle for the golden snitch, almost crashing with each other on several occasions. If his memory was correct, at least three players had fell from their brooms either from crashing or bludgers. The crowd’s roar almost left him deaf when Slytherin’s seeker finally closed her fingers around the snitch. When she’d flown down and paraded it around, the noise became even worse. Her chestnut hair had come loose at some point of the match, and mixed with her smudged eyeliner she gave a feral image that send tickles down his spine.

Back in the castle, he could see silver and green flags everywhere. People ran and cheered. Only Gryffindors and some others walked back to their dorms in silence, or anger, he couldn’t say. Ten points from the Hufflepuff boy who tried to hide the bottle of alcohol in his robe. With a sigh, he pulled out his wand and vanished the whiskey back to the kitchen’s shelves.

After another two hours of prowling around, he decided to call it for the day.

Cardan had almost made it to the stairs when a loud commotion snapped his attention back to the Great Hall. He peered inside, more than ready to continue with the points slaughter. That’s when he saw her again.

Jude Duarte. Slytherin’s captain and seeker. Crowned a legend after today’s victory. Her strategy abilities had made her team practically invincible. She sat on top of one of the tables, surrounded by the rest of the team and a few more students. Her damp her already starting to curl again. Apparently the party wasn’t over for everyone just yet.

Cackles died gradually as he approached them. All eyes turning to him. 

“Hello there, Ravenclaw. Are you lost?” He could practically feel her purr on his stomach, her gaze trailing down his body. A girl named Lilliver snickered from her seat.

“Oh, not at all.” He shrugged. “But you’re being quite loud, and I must ask you to keep it down.”

Jude slid down the table and stood in front of him, a cheeky smirk playing on the corner of her lips. “That’s a little rude, Head Boy, why don’t you join us and forget about noise rules for a while? We’re celebrating.”

“I can see that, and I appreciate the offer.” He conceded. “But as it is my duty, I insist, unless you’re looking to make your house lose some points. I suggest you go back to your dorms. Have a pleasant night.”

That said, he flashed her a polite smile, turned back to the Hall’s entrance and left, vaguely hearing several scoffs dancing along the group.

~

When Jude Duarte left the Slytherin dorm it was already past midnight. At last, the rest of the team had fallen asleep along the living room. She didn’t feel tired though, with the rush from the game still in her veins keeping her wide awake. 

Some nights, she enjoyed going out after curfew to take a stroll. There was something uncanny relaxing about it. No one rushing between classes, no one she needed to talk about quidditch or the usual nonsense people usually asked. Just silence. 

By the end of the corridor, she stopped in front of the now familiar room. Jude glanced around her once, making sure there weren’t any curious eyes and went in.

Jude suspected the chamber was an old meetings office that no one used anymore. Since the first time she’d found it, the same squared table rested in the middle, surrounded by three or four chairs. An old settee, and a mostly empty bookcase filled the rest of the small space. Nothing seemed different tonight. 

The dim moonlight coming from outside was the only thing that allow her to see around. 

She’d almost reached the settee, when something slither behind her. She spun around, reaching for her wand with all the agility she’d learned from duel trainings. 

Jude knew it was too late when she heard a husky voice whispering. “Incarcerous.”

She gasped as her arms folded behind her back. A scratchy rope securing them.  

In less than a second, she was pressed back against his hard body. One of his arms snaked around her waist, the other one buried on her hair and arching her neck, granting him access.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Cardan mumbled, spreading hot kisses down her throat. When he reached the base he sucked a little, sending hot streams down her veins. 

“Well you’ll find out that it’s quite difficult to get rid of a bunch of people who are high on adrenaline.” She pointed out, leaning her head back to his shoulder. “I might have slipped a few sleeping pills in their juice.” 

“You tricky witch.” He pressed harder against her backside. Letting her feel the effect she had on his body. Without being able to stop it, a breathy whimper left her lips. “Seems to me that I’ll have to take some of Slytherin’s points after all.”

“Don’t you dare.” She hissed, struggling inefficiently against the ropes. 

He just chuckled. His wicked hands now roamed under her Slytherin green hoodie, leaving goosebumps on her bare skin. “You might be captain on the field love, but you should realize you’re not the one in control here.”

In a swift movement, he turned her around and pulled the hoodie over Jude’s head, leaving it hanging from her tied arms. The fresh air made her shudder, she could feel her nipples hardening under her crop top. Before she could say anything else, Cardan crashed their lips together, his kiss fierce, tugging at her lower lip in a clear message. Mine. 

Jude didn’t realize he’d been moving them backwards until she bumped with the table. He helped her sat on top of it, settling between her thighs, grinding their bodies together.

She broke the kiss for a moment, breathing against his mouth. “You’re going to be in so much trouble when I’m off this ropes.” 

“Am I?” With no so gentle hands, he pushed her back against the table, his mouth curled in a predatory grin. “But you’re not now, are you?” 

Without her arms to help her up, Jude just glared at him. She realized how ragged her heartbeat was. The way he looked at her send a pulse through her core. Her bound arms twisted again, looking for a way out, but the rope didn’t waver. She could do nothing but lay there, at his mercy while he peeled her pants from her. 

No answer from her was expected, Cardan’s low chuckle floated in the room. “I thought so.”

He leaned and barely grazed her lips, pulling back when she tried to capture them and slid down her body. Leaving trails with his lips on her jaw, the base of her throat, the swell of her breasts. He lingered a moment on her nipples, circling them over her top with his tongue. Jude’s breath came out in shuddering whimpers, her body writhed below him trying to get some friction. Cardan took his lips lower, along her well toned torso. Her hips twitched as he found a sensitive spot next to her dagger tattoo, and sucked on it. 

At some point her knickers came off too. She swore at the feeling of Cardan’s teeth nibbling her inner thighs. He made a disapproving sound with his tongue. “From this moment Jude, for every sound leaving your lips, I’m going to take a point from your house. Am I clear?” 

Jude stared at him wide eyed, angrily biting her lip to avoid spilling all the curses that danced in her mind. He knew how seriously Slytherins took winning. Everything. The House Cup one of the most desired prizes. Fuck he knew how to play her. 

Without breaking eye contact he leaned down again, positioning himself barely centimeters away from her center. Something between dark and amused tainted his features.

“Congratulations on winning your game baby.” At that he closed the distance to her aching folds, tasting them with a long, ravening lick.

The last coherent thought on her mind was how lucky they were that she’d cast a silencing charm on the room when she arrived.

The House Cup could very well rot in hell.

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I was really really excited to do this since it’s the first crossover i’ve ever written. 

I’m not planning any particular story with this, buuut I’m not against writing more of this AU if I ever see (or any of you send) prompts that could fit *wink*

I hope you like it!! 

As a little extra, and since I’m becoming obsessed with doing this things, here are a couple of aesthetics for Slytherin!Jude and Ravenclaw!Cardan, just because I think they’re cute.

ciao!

[scorbusfest]

Scorbus Fest 2020 Masterlist

FIC:

Break The Ice (T, 7.7k) by Honeysworks

Prompt: Scorpius is a figure skater, Albus plays ice hockey. They train at the same ice rink. Albus finds himself looking for excuses to hang about in the locker room after training just so he can bump into Scorpius.

An Issue of a Dragon (G, 5.7) by @truemeg

Albus returns to school with an extra little something in a box: a dragon. Albus is confident he can take care of it on his own. But Scorpius knows better.

A Million Times (M, 14k) by bellatrix187 @greenandgreyeyes

Albus has been pining after his best friend for two years now. After almost a week of house-sitting with Scorpius for his parents’ friends Dean and Seamus, he has had enough of keeping it inside him. He has no idea what Scorpius is feeling, how to bring it up, or what it will mean for them, but will the discovery of a few dirty magazines spark a conversation about their sexualities and force him to confess?

Turning Circles (T, 38k) by roonilwazlib @xpectopatronerd

Scorpius is a figure skater, Albus plays junior hockey. A random schedule change causes them to bump into each other for the first time - and from there, it’s a slippery slope into mutual pining and endless maybes. They might train at the same rink, but will any of them be brave enough to break the ice?

Featuring secrets, crushes, secret crushes and everyone’s favourite Father of the Year, Draco Malfoy at his very finest. This is basically forty thousand words of fluff and fun, set in a Muggle AU in the North of England.

Our Golden Age (E, 2.6k) by @ladderofyears

Scorpius Malfoy is sixty years old and has just lost his wife Cecily after a long marriage. His best-friend of many decades Albus Potter comes to stay with him at Malfoy Manor.

You Being Okay Is All That Matters (G, 3.4k) by @accioscorp

A final shift before a well deserved break for Scorpius is flipped upside down when an accident at the local creatures sanctuary sends Saint Mungo’s into chaos but Scorpius’ mind is only focused on one thing … whether Albus is okay or not.

Five times Albus noticed a thing about Scorpius and one time he didn’t (M, 4.4k) by @eleonorapoe

Albus has known Scorpius his whole life. He knows how he likes his sandwiches, which side he falls asleep on, the noise he makes when laughing his ass off. Until one day, on “The Morning of Bed Head”, Albus discovers there are things about Scorpius that can still surprise him. They say the third time's a charm, but it takes Albus five times to realize that he hadn't noticed the most important thing about Scorpius at all.

I’d Take Every Jump For You (G, 12.7k) by Augurey_ray

Scorpius is a dressage rider and spends every second of his free time at the stables. Albus? Albus isn't as much of a fan. One day their paths cross and, well, they have their hurdles.

Five Times Things Did Not Work Out as Planned, and One Time They Did (G, 11.3k) by WhenSheReads

Pretty much what the title says--things may not always work out for Scorpius and Albus, but that doesn't mean things are bad.

Different kinds of “addictions” (G, 7.3k) by @sapphicfangirll

After a fight with James, Albus rushes to Malfoy Manor to seek comfort from his favourite blonde. Once he goes back home Albus might just realise that there's more to his brother than meets the eye.

(This one-shot involves two of my hcs: a)Albus having adhd b)Albus knowing sign language; it's the first in a series of one-shots centered around adhd!Al)

brainfunks and cereal (G, 1.1k) by ivermectin

In which Albus worries, and Scorpius reassures him.

Under False Pretenses (G, 7.2k) by scorperion21

Albus Potter is a highly trained magizoologist, but he's not opposed to a little help from a Creature Healer every now and again if absolutely necessary...

Scorpius Malfoy doesn't need to know that the only reason Albus keeps calling on him is because of his all-consuming crush. Does he?

A Force To Be Reckoned With (G, 7.3k) by @rinrin-obliviate

Lily Luna Potter was a force to be reckoned with.

At least, that was how she viewed herself. Being the youngest, she was responsible for carrying four brain cells--one for her, one for Albus, and two extra ones for James. She was blunt but tactful, short but unrelenting, but mostly, she was brave but not stupid.

So when Albus landed himself in trouble more serious than time-turners and world domination, it was Lily who just had to help her brother pull his actual shit together.

She shot a last, warning glance at James. “I’d like to be your voice of reason at this point, but right now I’m sleepy and I need to go to bed.” She turned to Lily. “Try not to let your brother blow up the whole school.”

She unblinkingly returned Rose’s gaze. “Which brother?”

“Both.”

The One in Which Albus Should Have Been a Bit More Clear (M, 2.1k) by ringelchen @lordofthegoods

Albus just wants to be a good friend and deliver a love letter to Scorpius. It doesn't quite go as planned.

Edible Flowers (T, 21k) by @littlerose13writes

Albus Potter has grown up in the wizarding world, has been around magic all his life and is used to the eccentricities being a teenage wizard can bring. But when he’s struck down with muggle flu, he wakes up in a world that seems to have turned upside down.

His sister is a bully, Polly Chapman is his friend and, weirdest of all, his best friend Scorpius suddenly seems to be his boyfriend. Albus would quite like to get back to normality in time for the fifth year Summer Ball if that’s not too much to ask.

i want to be the only one (but you are) ; scorbus (T, 5k) by dungeondreams

albus isn't the fondest of physical touch with most people. luckily scorpius malfoy isn't most people. (alternatively; albus is kinda touch starved and scorpius is more than happy to change that.)

lemonade roses (T, 40k) by @dustyspines

By some calamitous twist of fate, Albus Potter finds himself faced with the realisation that he’s not okay; his sleep has been hijacked by vivid nightmares detailing the night his life fell apart on the Quidditch pitch, his sense of self is slipping away as he drowns in a sea of expectations, and his relationships begin to fracture when the vicious ghost of inevitability snaps at his heels. The solution should be simple: break up with Scorpius Malfoy. But this is Albus Potter, and nothing in his life has ever been simple, so why should that change now?

this is me trying (M, 15k) by @fidgetyweirdo

Just a few weeks ago, Scorpius's life was on stable footing - perfect grades, infatuation with a brilliant woman, and, most importantly, his best mate, Albus, at his side. But when Albus kisses him and Scorpius is left with no choice but to break his heart, for the first time since they met, the future of their friendship is in question. Scorpius can't lose him, though. So even if it involves blundering through awkward conversations and setting up multiple, disastrous blind dates, Scorpius won't stop trying.

Amuse Me (G, 19k) by @rinrin-obliviate

Albus didn’t really find amusement parks entertaining.

Even with Scorpius Malfoy spending the entire day with him, Albus never really fancied the concept of crowded areas, roller coasters that would intentionally plummet you to death, or rigged carnival games that served nothing but stuffed toys and candy floss. Honestly, if him falling for his best mate was not going to be the death of him, this one was.

He just wanted to survive the day.

My reason within (T, 9.7k) by Patronuslight7

Albus and Scorpius have now seen their Patronus forms. One of them is completely disheartened, the other hasn't given up trying to explain just yet.

A special day (G, 6.3k) by @sapphicfangirll

The one where Albus hyperfixates on pjo, Scorbus and their favourite third wheel go to muggle comic con, they make some new friends and they might just participate in the cosplay contest. Ft trans!Scorpius, adhd!Al and questioning Albus+nonbinary boy!Al who uses he/they pronouns.

I Pour Light Into You (G, 4.5k) by @motherofmercury

Albus is a top Magizoologist and is assigned a new and exotic creature that spits toxins, landing him in St. Mungo’s. His husband, Scorpius, is the Healer in charge of his recovery, leading to some small angst and much hair stroking.

A Love Like Old Boots (T, 20k) by @thealmostrhetoricalquestion

Each time Scorpius glanced his way, Albus made sure to smile as though nothing was amiss. As though it wasn’t exceptionally odd to come out of your morning lesson and find your ex-boyfriend of three years standing in the grass with his hands in his pockets, waiting for you.

To be a Boy (E, 17.8k) by @shipperysails-bookofspells

Scorpius’ life was perfect. He was talented at school, had the best friend anyone could ask for, and his boyfriend, Albus Potter, was making him happier than he’d ever dreamed possible.

But all of that began to unravel when suppressed insecurities are brought to light, causing Scorpius to question what it means to be a boy.

FIC AND ART: 

Same Order Every Time (G, 2.1k) by evie_adams273

Albus didn't want to take the job as a barista. He hadn't intended to have it for this long. Not because he actively disliked it. Simply because it was so dull. At this point, he knew who all the regulars were. He knew every second of every day. Until today.

ART: 

Albus’ oral fixation (G) by @eleonorapoe

Albus has a bad habit of chewing on his hoodie lace which makes Scorpius unable to focus on studying.

What Happened In the Weeds (G) by @motherofmercury

Just two soft boys kissing in a field for scorbusfest!

something you didn’t even have a name for (G) by @lumoshyperion

A tender moment shared between two boys in love, inspired by a Richard Siken poem.

until you hear that music play again (T) by @marisdrawings

Albus is a singer/guitarist at a local pub. Scorpius is a stressed newbie in town who lands himself on the same bar as a customer. He caught himself incredibly flustered and smitten for the pub's own singer to the point where it's the first place he visits every night. They get to know each other, Albus offers to be Scorpius's guide in exploring the whole city, and the rest is history. (prompt by @rinrin-obliviate)

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 9: Darksaber

A/N: OVER 3K BABY!!! This is the longest thing I have written in a hot minute so please give it a read. Thank you @dindjarindiaries​ for motivating me today with ALL of your content. If any of you are lost towards the start of this that’s because Day 8 is part 1! If you have trouble looking for it just use the iwriteforthetincanman writes hashtag on my blog! THANK YOU!!

This is for @leo-moon​ ‘s Mandoctober!

Something was wrong. That was a fact you clung to as you roused from slumber, a headache brewing behind your eyelids. It was like real life had become the dream and sleep, a reality that had slipped away. An echo ghosted through your mind, a feeling that you knew who it was came and went...it sounded so familiar?

It was highly unusual to wake up in pain, unless that's what woke you in the first place. Although you had a sneaking suspicion that you had been in pain since you had passed out too. Then there was the cold...everything else was warm but you could feel the cold on your cheek. 

Beskar.

Din.

“D-Din?” A wheeze left your lips as you reached out to your Riduur. It was like he was asleep himself the way he sat, still as a statue. As soon as he heard your voice, he startled awake, his hands carving through your hair. 

“Cyare...you scared the life out of me, I thought-I thought you were dying.” Realising he was no longer wearing his helmet gave you a weird helmet. It was a rare sight to see the rest of his armor on his person whilst missing the helmet. The only reason he would’ve done that is if he was giving you CPR. 

“I’m okay...I think.” Brows furrowing in frustration, a hint of a thought wove its way through your brain. “I...I think I know why this is happening…” Trailing off, you saw the panicked look in Din’s eyes grow into an inexplicable fear. Were you dying? The thought shocked you into damage control. 

“I’m not dying but...I think someone is trying to kill me.” The accusation itself confused you, but then again you had no idea how right you were. Din’s expressions morphed into so many different emotions, it was difficult to keep track. Without the helmet, he was just a man...to you at least. That didn’t make him any less dangerous. 

“Are-are you sure? It was like you were having an extreme panic attack, or someone was…” Realisation dawned on your lover’s face, all other emotions falling away. It scared you how still he was, fingers no longer stroking your hair. Faintly, you could hear his heartbeat under his armor, otherwise you wouldn’t know what to think. 

“It was like someone was strangling you.” His voice was much deeper now, sinister in a sense. Not to you, you knew he was angry but he was angry with the force that was trying to kill you.

...The Force.

Someone was trying to kill you through the use of the force!

That’s when it hit you.

“...Moff Gideon.” Your face matched your lover’s. You were afraid, apprehensive and yet angry with the events that were occurring around you, to you. 

“Moff Gideon is trying to kill you, without being anywhere near you, using the force. It’s the one thing we can’t fight against.” Din’s grip grew tight around your body, as if he were protecting you just by willing it to happen. Part of the force worked like that, you knew that much about it. 

Right now...you were powerless to stop it. The child could only do so much, but reaching through space? To another person? It was next to the impossible. 

“Din...right now. All I need is you by my side.” Trying your best not to cry again. You knew the inevitable was approaching. All you wanted was for him to be near you, even if it was coming to an end. 

Silently, you watched as Din’s anger broke, revealing how torn up he really was. Tears flooding into those sweetly intense eyes, he refused to let them fall. Scooping you up in his arms, he carried you to your bed.

---

Sleep was also inevitable. Which is why you weren’t surprised to find him there, waiting for you. Like he had never even left. 

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t it?” He smirked to himself, he sat in some sort of throne, legs crossed. He was comfortable. What got on your nerves was how smug he was about it. Glaring into his soul, you restrained yourself. You were in your mind and the force was on his side. If anything, he could easily do more harm to you than you could to him. The whole situation was insanely unfair. 

“Is it even worth answering? You’re in my mind. You could learn anything you wanted about me!” Shouting across the void, angry reverberated back at you. It was like anything you did, reflected on the storm clouds brewing above. Anything Moff Gideon did, had no such effect. 

Glancing around, all you could see was the emptiness. It was like you had stepped into a room with no limits. All you could see was him and that dumb throne, like he had taken control away from you. 

“Looks like I have all the control when it comes to your mind Y/N.” He continued to smile down at you before standing, stepping down from his throne to walk across the void, towards you. Although he was walking at a leisurely pace, the cape that swished behind him highlighted how menacing he truly is. 

“But I’m not here to hurt you. Not this time anyway…” At this, you growled. Confirming everything you and Din had suspected. Chuckling to himself, he continued “I’m here to make a deal with you.” Immediately your anger vanished at this, concern overtaking your whole body as you tensed. There’s only one thing he could possibly want from you…

The baby.

“I will never let you have him.” You were determined to stay strong, but the whimper you let out was pitiful. 

“No? Not even if I turned my control over to your husband? Made him suffer the way you did? Perhaps even kill him? And leave you all alone with the child instead?” Gasping, the clouds above reflected a blue hue. Your true emotions were on full display to the enemy. You were backed into a corner. Either he could kill you and expect Din to break, give him the baby or you could listen to what he has to say and let them both live. 

“...Fine. Please, leave the Mandalorian out of this.” It felt like you were begging, but in reality you knew you would do anything for Din. Even if it meant fighting for a warrior’s death.

“Very well. Next time you land, I will send a ship for you. You will find a way of escaping the Mandalorian...and bring yourself to me.” This proposition surprised you...he didn’t want you to bring the kid?

“Do this...and I will leave your husband and child alone...forever.”

Now why did he have to go and make it an offer you can’t refuse?

---

The unforgiving metal you were resting against made you want to cry. It was nothing like the beskar you were used to. Your body kept reminding you of all the differences between now and then. It was like a backwards game of spot the difference. Except this was much more dangerous. 

Moff Gideon no longer had a grip on your mind. That was only because he was standing in front of you...in person. 

Earlier you had woken to find Din happy that you were still alive. He was apprehensive yet grateful for the next day of life the Maker had gifted to you. You had managed to lie, telling him you felt so much better, before somehow convincing him to land the Razor Crest on a peaceful planet. One where you could get as much sunlight and fresh air as you wanted. 

It was all just a farce. An act. 

It hurt you so much to lie and betray your Riduur. It felt like you were going back on your vows. Throughout it all you reminded yourself, you were doing this for him and the child, to keep them safe for the rest of their lives. 

That all came crashing down when the ship collected you in the middle of that flower field. It stood out violently and you were certain Din had seen it as it came into land. 

This theory confirmed itself as you stepped aboard, turning back to spot your Riduur, the child in his arms as they both just stood there and watched. You could sense the horror behind their eyes as tears fell from yours. Mouthing the words that you were sorry, the doors shut and you flew away. 

It took all the strength you had not to fall onto your knees when you arrived, not in front of that much evil. He had already gotten what he wanted, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry as well. 

Now, he had you in this complicated contraption that was somehow a mix between a chair and a gurney. The metal, a bitter reminder of what you had given up and in exchange what you had received. 

It had only been a couple of hours, but the torture was relentless. Moff Gideon had put your mind through hell to see how far you could go before you snapped. He had the force, you knew that beforehand, yet you underestimated just how powerful he was. He didn’t want any information, he just wanted you to suffer.

No physical harm had come to you, but it felt like you were close to death. You were so tired and a myriad of dots danced before your eyes as you glanced around the room. It was a cell despite how many buttons and controls were placed on the walls. If Din could see you now you knew he would be horrified, you must’ve looked like a corpse. 

You weren’t dead yet. But you knew you were pretty close.

---

The sounds of a distant battle were the next thing that woke you. For a moment you thought you had finally succumbed to the darkness, all the hurt and pain had collapsed on top of you, forcing you to sleep. But a battle could only mean one of two things, either the rebellion was attacking the Imperial ship or…

Din was here.

Just the thought of your husband made you move to get out of the chair, pain screamed back at you in retaliation. It gave you a clear message, you weren’t going anywhere. 

But if Din was here, here for you and he might die trying to get to you. You sure as hell were going to fight for him. Even if it meant you were only going to see him one last time. 

Imperial soldiers were many things: treacherous, hypocrites and sometimes, if you were lucky, they were very stupid. Which is how you came across your tools stashed in your belt. They weren’t the kind of tools that were visible. No, these were lock picking tools that were hidden on purpose. 

It took a couple of minutes, thankfully no one came in to check on you at that time but finally, you were free. 

---

No guards were stationed outside your cell, which meant they must have been called away towards the fight. Din had been a part of many battles, but aboard an Imperial ship? You couldn’t begin to imagine how severely outnumbered he was. 

Limping down the endless hallways, you followed the sound of the fight. Knowing that at the other end of it was your husband, you only hoped that your limp wouldn’t keep you from a fatal mistake. This whole decision was a mistake, you knew that now. 

It was a trap Moff Gideon had set for you and you only.

Din’s grief was just an added bonus. 

Finally reaching the room of the fight, you discovered that all the soldiers had already been taken out. The only reason for that must’ve been a weapon of immense size and had enough ammo to take on an army. Well, in this case, it kind of did. The Razor Crest was parked at the other end of the hangar.

All that was left was Moff Gideon and Din Djarin in a vicious fist fight. 

...And Din was losing. 

You knew that if you didn’t act now, Din was going to get himself killed and all of this would’ve been for nothing. The only thought you had was that if this was going to happen, you wouldn’t want your mistake to take Din away from you in its wake. 

Limping into the hangar, Moff Gideon didn’t even notice your entrance as he held out a weapon you didn’t recognise. Not until he activated it at least. 

An ominous black blade shot out, made of light and outlined by a white glare. A darksaber.

Only hearing about them in stories from the past, you knew lightsabers were flashy but they were twice as deadly. They could kill you in an instant, cauterising wounds as soon as they were made. Din didn’t stand a chance, even with the beskar. None of his weapons matched the darksaber’s intensity. 

Launching forwards, the both of them clashed as Din used some sort of a shield. Part of the ship, you recognised. The sinister sorcerer retaliated, lashing out with the darksaber searing through the shield. By some miracle it held up. 

“HOW DARE YOU TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!” The sound of Din screaming out in pain scared you to the point where you thought he was dying, not you. 

“She came of her own free will, Djarin. To protect you!” Sneering down at him, you couldn’t help the strength that returned in the form of pure rage. 

“SHE WANTED TO PROTECT THE CHILD! FROM YOU! YOU-MONSTER!” He was so infinitely angry, he was blind to his actions. You were scared for him. Sprinting back towards Gideon, Mando attempted to bring part of the ship down on his head. It was a stupid act, a rare kind of mistake for the Mandalorian to do. 

Yet, he prevailed. 

In shock, Gideon let go of the saber. With it falling out of his grasp, it clattered to the floor. It was almost like the whole scene was taking place in slow motion before you. 

“I loved her...and you killed her. All for a child?” Din’s voice was broken, if all he did was look up right now, he would see that you were still alive. Broken in places, but alive and right in front of him. 

“I wasn’t after the child...not this time.” Moff Gideon panted in agony, blood gushing from a gash on his head. You could see that much. But now was your time to act, while his guard was down.

Three things happened in the next moment.

Firstly, whilst they were talking, Moff Gideon���s hand moved towards a blade he had hidden away in his robes, fully intending on driving through the space between the bottom of Din’s helmet and his neck. 

Secondly, you felt a deep and complicated feeling overtake you once more, causing you to reach out this time. Not fall to your knees in agony. Now was no longer the time for pain. You were a lion that had been kept in a cage, prodded and poked at. This time you would bare your fangs and lash out at your captors.

Thirdly, as Moff Gideon swiftly got to his feet, running at Din, the Mandalorian stumbled backwards in surprise causing him to trip over debri. 

In the moment he fell over, all he could do was watch as you drove the dark saber through Moff Gideon’s chest.

As you retracted the blade, a wet gargle left the man’s throat as he fell sideways. Revealing your worn and beaten from to your Riduur. 

Despite everything that had just happened, you were so happy to see him. 

Falling to your knees, you collapsed into his chest. 

“It’s over, it’s over. We’re finally safe.”

As you sobbed, you finally slipped away, in the arms of the man you loved.

---

Over a week later you awoke.

“Din?” This time your voice croaked from not using it. Not because you had been screaming in your sleep. 

“Cyare.” Turning to your side, you observed the scene before you.

You were all in a hut, the sound of children playing outside bringing an unexpected amount of normalcy. 

What gave you peace of mind that you were all well and truly safe was the sight right in front of you.

Din was dressed in simple clothes, a tunic and pants, no shoes and no helmet. His hair was freshly washed and had dried in the sun, letting his curls be shown freely to the world. He smiled down at you, immensely grateful you had woken.

As he made his way towards you, you grew aware of the warmth tucked into your side. Looking down you spotted the child curled on top of the blanket and you, fast asleep. 

“You’re awake.” He whispered, crouching down at your bedside. 

“I thank the Maker that I am. I wouldn't have missed this wonderful sight for the universe.” You joked, combing fingers through his hair. That was when you noticed the countless bandages winding up your arm, no, your arms. 

Noticing the light flicker in your eyes, Din explained what had happened.

“You were gravely wounded Cyar'ika. The healers said you were lucky to have pulled through at all.” Moving your hand to his cheek, you looked upon the face of the man you married.

“I’m here now. We’re free. We can...start our lives as a family, together.” Din beamed at this, his pearly teeth on full display as he leant down to kiss you, gingerly at first.

As the kiss deepened, you remembered how long it had really been since the two of you had shared any form of affection. Yet, something else popped up in the back of your mind.

“Din-wait.” Pushing him away, it pained you more than the wounds that littered your body. 

“What is it?” Confusion laced his features as his eyes flickered across yours.

“I think...I think I’m like the child. That was how I killed Moff Gideon...I used the force.” 

As you spoke these words into the air, it disturbed the peace you two had created in just a few short moments. Din Djarin turned his face, his eyes landing on the object that had been resting on a table for the past week, untouched. Sure, you two were free and about to start a new life all together. 

But now was the time you and the child would train.

Two Jedi and a Mandalorian. 

It sounded like the start to a bad joke.