#at the end of book 1 you soft lock your li

[neopuppy]

Teddy Bear (M)

Preview: The day you met Haechan remains one of your fondest memories.

The day he moved away reminds you that you’ve lived through heartbreak once before.

“We’ll talk everyday!” Haechan’s round cheeks bunched up. Throwing his arms around you with all of his might. Enough to make you stumble into him.

If he hadn’t lied, maybe the memory would hurt less.

Pairing: Jeno x female reader

Word Count: 8.3k+

Genre: College AU, one shot, pwp, heavy dubcon/noncon elements(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. thanks.), dark fic, M/F

Warning: bullying, questionable ‘happy’ ending, drug use mentioned once, possessive/obsessive behavior, lies deceit manipulation etc.

Smut Warning: misuse of a plushie, oral(M), degradation, thigh riding, bulging, dacryphilia, dumbification, breeding

“Hey! I picked that first!” Refusing to let go of the volume 1 Uzumaki that you’ve scoured through shelves for weeks to read, you practically collide into a pile of shipment boxes.

“NO! I did!” The boy in front of you wastes no time to play dirty, shuffling closer without loosening his grip on the manga. Side swiping one of your legs swiftly with his foot until you fall. Landing on a pile of hard and soft cover books with breath knocked from your lungs. He smiles largely, Uzumaki held above his head in victory. “That’s what you get!”

Blowing spit and sticking out his tongue, he breaks into a run toward the exit. Willing yourself back on your feet, you charge after him until you’re close enough to reach for hair flying off his head with each slam of his feet. Inches from the door, he’s yanked back. Fisting a chunk of silky dark locks, you dig your heels to the floor. Screaming like a banshee, throwing your weight forward to knock him down.

“Ahhh!” He screams mortifyingly loud, whining and writhing away from underneath you. Book clutched under both arms to his chest. “Get off of me!”

“Give me back the book!”

“No!” Shouting, he struggles, dramatically falling back flat. Feet kicking behind you against the ground. “Why are you so strong!”

“I have to help my mother carry crates of fruit to the farmer’s market every week.” You explain, grabbing a tuft of his hair to pull on again. Agony streaks his delicate features, button nose scrunched up drawing out a hiss.

“Stopppp, that hurts!” Sighing, he blinks. Water filled doll-like eyes stare up at you. Weakening the hold on his scalp, you settle back. Just realizing the awkward position you’ve landed yourself in, butt pressed down on his flat stomach. “Listen.”

Shaking off your hand, he pushes up on his elbows. Coyly smiling, big enough for the bridge of his nose to scrunch. “We can share it.”

“What??”

“The manga, we can read it together!” He pipes up as if it’s the most brilliant idea.

“No. I don’t want to.” You mumble, pushing up to stand. “I don’t even know you.”

He sits up too, rubbing the tender spot that throbs painful on his head. “I’m Haechan!”

“I don’t care.”

An annoyed huff pushes air out between his lips. Settling on his knees, book in one hand. His smile grows wider. “You might not care, but now you know me.”

The day you met Haechan remains one of your fondest memories.

The day he moved away reminds you that you’ve lived through heartbreak once before.

“We’ll talk everyday!” Haechan’s round cheeks bunched up. Throwing his arms around you with all of his might. Enough to make you stumble into him.

If he hadn’t lied, maybe the memory would hurt less.

Haechan bribes you with a paper bowl of steaming hot convenience store ramen. “If you share the book with me, I’ll share my noodles with you. Hey, I’ll even buy you some strawberry milk.”

The rumble your stomach gives is almost too perfect. Haechan smiling, dragging you back to the reading nook in the small comic store.

“You’re reading too fast!” He exclaims, splashing soup broth across the page. “I haven’t even finished this panel yet!”

“You read too slow!”

“Hey,” he leans back, arching a brow. “You’re kind of mean huh? I like that.”

Instead of pleasing him with a response, you throw the paperback at his lap. “Fine, you turn the pages. My arms tired anyway.”

“Mean girl.” Haechan mumbles, smirking. Offering you a forkful of noodles. Unsure if it’s anger or nerves filling your cheeks with a flush of heat.

That’s how you end up spending summer indoors. Cooped up together inside of the comic book store sharing your favorite recommendations with each other. Haechan preferred more gore and action, which made sense when you first read Uzumaki together.

Mentioning he wanted to reread it a couple of months later but was unable to find it anywhere. Probably because you kept it in a box under your bed along with the now empty bottle of strawberry milk he bought you. Plus the various coin machine prizes he’d won over time and offered to you. Claiming ‘I already have that’.

It’s not that you have a crush on Haechan. You like him. He’s nice, always smiling, and never reacts to the attitude you give him. He’s more insistent you hang out than you can understand.

“You’re moving?” By the time next summer rolls around, Haechan’s stomping around in front of you. Pulling out different mangas and putting them back in frustration.

“My dad’s been working on some mobile app for years.” He starts to explain. “I don’t know, this rich CEO in Seoul purchased it for like….a lot. Dad said we have to relocate, there’s way more opportunity in Seoul..”

“That’s good, I’m sure your families really proud of him..” doing your best to sound happy. You pretend to find the book in your hands much more interesting than it is. Seoul’s a 5 hour drive away, a little more than 3 by bullet train. Not that you could afford a ticket, never even venturing further than 5 miles from the only town you’ve ever known.

Haechan plops down next to you dropping his bouncy head of hair down on your shoulder. “Seoul’s really far..”

“I’ve never been..”

“You wouldn’t come visit me?” He turns to ask, the tip of his nose faintly grazing your cheek. Digging your two front teeth into your lower lip to placate the nerves that jump out of nowhere.

“Seoul is really expensive..” Haechan’s mouth droops to one side, upset by your answer.

“..Will you at least come by tomorrow when I leave?”

“Of course I will.” You assure, shifting to allow a small area to form between your bodies. Haechan had a habit of intruding on your personal space. Whereas you avoid affection, he craves it. Enjoys sharing everything, clinging on to your arms and shoulders whenever you hang out together. Making it difficult to dislike him even when you try to convince yourself he has negative traits.

The most negative being that he’d be moving away. Too far away.

“My dad bought me an iPhone,” Haechan beams, already customizing the phone’s background to a photo of Ryuk. “Here’s my number, you can text me.. when you get a phone..”

Drifting off on the last few words, he’s fast to change the atmosphere. Pressing his growing body to your side, slower than the growth spurt you’d experienced recently. He pushes up on to his toes planting a wet kiss to your cheek.

“Don’t forget about me?” Haechan whispers, brown pools tinted orange honey twinkling hopefully.

Running off, he waves, leaving behind a phone number scribbled on your palm and a trace of pouty lips on your skin. Burning in the aftermath.

That would be the last time Haechan spoke to you as a friend.

——————————————————-

“You remember the Lee family? That little boy you used to hang out with.” Your mom casually mentions over lunch one day. Age written over her features beyond her years. Today had been a tough one, unloading heavy crates only for a thunderstorm to ruin the chance of making any money.

“Sure.” You mumble, nursing a spoonful of hot soup hoping that will warm you up better than the weak fireplace you tried to start up with more ashes than logs.

“There’s these ads going around, sponsoring a child that comes from poverty.” She starts, sliding the newspaper your way. Big bold letters about an underdog hero, modern day Robin Hood giving back to his community. “You’re too smart for the school systems your father and I can afford.”

“This is a charity case.” You reply distastefully, reading the description. Full scholarship ride and housing covered, guaranteed a position to intern at Mr. Lee’s company to complete your credits.

“I’ve sent in an application for you.” She smiles, smoothing out a folded paper. “You’re one of the top 5, but you have to interview in Seoul. I don’t want you to struggle the way we have anymore.”

“I’m not struggling mom, I don’t want to move to Seoul.” You say, avoiding the letter. She sighs, biting back her tongue.

“Your dad has been putting in overtime, this weekend you will take the bullet train to Seoul. I cannot go with you, but I know you will flourish and achieve great things. You can be better than Mr. Lee even.” She finalizes, clasping her hands together. “We must find you something suitable to wear.”

She’s not wrong, over the years you work hard. Assisting your mother in any way with her job to make ends meet. Throttling yourself into nothing but studying, even growing less interested in the hobbies you once indulged in as a kid.

Things became more clear with time. That alone is obvious as you look at the second hand iPhone you started a piggy-bank for after Haechan moved. Able to pay for it and the cheapest service you could find finally after 4 years. It felt too late by then to bother texting him, it’s not as if he ever bothered to call.

Your mother was right, of course, Mr. Lee had gone from a broke engineer to a successful one developing various softwares for mobile phones and computers. His story is one you see spoken of often in newspapers and magazines, a local millionaire lifting his life up from nothing to a success overnight. It only took him 10 years, not that it ever gets mentioned.

“You’re the perfect example of prospering despite the environment you’ve been raised in.” Is what a woman wearing heels too high and a perfectly tight ponytail lifting her brows to two sharp lines says across from you. “I can’t wait to see your development, with an IQ like this there is no way you won’t soar to the top of your class.”

There is no way. Until there is.

‘I am still too shy to tell you how much I really like you. Given our current circumstances, I don’t think it’s the right time for us to take this next step. I hope you will have patience with me. In the meantime I will continue to admire your beauty at a distance. Pray for my heart, it hasn’t beat at a normal pace since you arrived.

-Your Teddy Bear’

The note crinkles between your fingertips. Lodged beneath a stuffed teddy bear plush that’s hanging from your locker. Attached by a string that has been neatly wrapped into a bow. The plush has silky brown fur, a patch of a red heart shot through by an arrow on its chest. It’s from the build-a-bear store, custom made, special, just for you.

‘Your Teddy Bear’ rereading the signature draws nausea up to your throat. It was no secret as to who walked around campus proudly nicknamed ‘baby bear’ because of his gentle cute resemblance to the animal.

Haechan Lee even sported a small fuzzy brown bear patch on his varsity jacket. One his girlfriend had insisted on ironing on to it after she began to steal the jacket off of him. The nickname was harmless, cute, yet made your stomach churn to read again.

“Aren’t you too old to carry around a stuffed animal?” Jeno’s locker rickashay’s loudly next to you. Breaking your stupor that’s held you in place long enough to miss the morning announcements. “Immature, don’t you think?”

Instead of acknowledging Jeno with any type of response, you shove the plush inside your bag. Distracted by punching it down to the bottom, the note drops from your hold landing at Jeno’s feet. He’s bending to pick it up before you’ve noticed, beginning to recite it outloud where he stands by your side.

“Pray for my heart?” Jeno scoffs. Throwing in a snorted laugh as you spin to face him. Shooting out your arm to snatch the note away from him. His laugh grows louder, shifting to perch on his toes and create longer distance between your limbs. “Don’t tell me you have a secret admirer? You??”

Jeno laughs boisterously at your jumping and cursing. Swatting at his bicep to retrieve the letter. “As if anyone would ever take an interest in you out of any of the girls enrolled. The only admiration anyone has for you is to make fun of these Good Will thrifted outfits you try to make look fashionable.”

Jeno mocks you, pinching your sweater at the shoulder as if you’re too disgusting to touch. His nose scrunching up, shaking away the material. “You’re worse than a pest. These scholarship programs just let in any trash off the street these days. Fucking charity cases.”

If you weren’t familiar with Jeno’s insufferable torment by now, you’d jump at the chance to talk back. Having to bite your tongue to resist the urge. A lesson he made sure you were quick to learn after the first week of the semester.

“Big mistake.” Jeno said after your belongings spilled out of your backpack. An uncapped black sharpie dropped on his white high-top Chuck Taylor’s. The tiniest, most minuscule black dot left behind on the toe of his foot.

Needless to say, your introduction was not an easy one. It just so happened that Jeno headed the same direction to his first class. Shoving past you with more aggression than necessary into the lecture hall. Of course he had the same morning class as you, because the universe had no reason to assist you. Not if Jeno Lee had any say about it.

Jeno could have sat anywhere, rows of empty seats up and down the aisles. Tons left in the back for anyone who preferred to zone out, catch more sleep. That would be logical, right? Instead he opted to sit directly behind you. Whispering up close to your ear, digging the pointed tips of a compass into your shoulder blade.

“Snitch, I dare you.” Jeno hissed. Chomping on gum noisily directly into your ear.

Stretching out his leg, Jeno drops his foot on your upper thigh. Bending at the knee with intention to leave a shoe print behind on your leg. He leans over closer, until only an inch of his butt sits on the lecture chair. “I just got these for school. Brand new pair, last left in my size.”

He grunts annoyed. Dragging the sharp compass down hard enough to leave lines on the back of your shirt. Jeno’s foot digs harder until he has your teeth clenched to bite down a pained whimper. “Should have you lick it until it’s clean. Better yet, bring your toothbrush tomorrow. Scrub them until they look fresh out of the factory.”

To say you started off on the wrong foot, literally, with Jeno would be an understatement. From that day forward he made sure to crowd into your space. Whether it be during class, or at your locker.

“Hey, Jeno dude. What’s going on here?” A voice carries down the hall. Jeno’s eyelashes flutter shut with irritation, forcing a cheerful smile on. He throws an arm around your shoulder, turning to face Haechan’s approaching figure.

“Hey man! Ah, you know. This one is always begging to see what snacks I have in my bag.” Jeno fabricates some story. Much too quick and sly for his own good. “I try to tell her, it’s a surprise for class!”

Haechan squints between the two of you. His girlfriend, Sinclair, waves at various friends passing by in a rush to class. With his arm wrapped around her waist as they enter the building. The epitome of a university’s power couple, especially in their matching Balenciaga sweaters today.

“If I remember correctly, she likes to eat ramen packets dry.” Haechan adds. Acknowledging you with a wink. “At least that was one of our favorites to share when we were kids.”

“That’s perfect, because there is no way I have time to warm up this cup of noodles before class now.” Jeno goes on lying. Pulling a face as the first bell to get your ass to class rings blaringly loud.

“Catch you at lunch, yeah?” Haechan waves your direction, lifting his chin Jeno’s way with a ‘later’. Moving along with Sinclair to their perspective classes.

Jeno groans, whipping his arm away with extra force. Purposefully jamming his hip into your side until you visibly grimace. Colliding against the set of lockers behind you.

“Be careful!” Jeno exclaims with large eyes. His palms slap onto your waist roughly, pushing you harder into the lockers. The handle and a large lock on one digs into your spine. Jeno’s gaze falls flat, eyelids thinning down to slits with a hardened expression. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself, now would you?”

He lets you go abruptly, spinning on his heel to catch up to a group of his friends. Not before stepping back swiftly to catch you off guard. Jeno’s shoulder budges against yours, making your back clatter into the lockers again with a groan. A sneer spreads across his lips, hand laid flat on the center of your stomach to keep you held in place.

“Watch out for yourself now, Teddy.” Jeno grins. “You never know who’s really watching you.”

——————————————————-

Focusing in class had been easier said than done after this morning's ordeal. Jeno’s taunts hardly bothered you as much as he probably wished for, but the teddy bear suffocating at the bottom of your bag did.

It couldn’t actually be from Haechan? Not after the less than enthusiastic way he greeted you upon recognizing each other during your first week. He made it apparent enough that he’d prefer for you to not mention the truth behind how you two knew each other.

It happened over lunch one day, Haechan must have felt guilty after borrowing your notes the week before. Inviting you to join his group of friends, insisting that you do.

That’s how you end up clenching your teeth next to Jeno. Jeno who immediately creates a tense air asking if Haechan knows you or something.

“Well yeah we, uh.. her mother! Used to deliver fruits and vegetables to my house. We would hang out as kids.. sometimes.” Haechan stares at you for a minute. Sighing before sporting a fake smile. “She’s in my dad’s scholarship program now.”

Sinclair giggles at that by his side. Turning to her best friend with a brand new iPhone covering her whispering lips. A photo of Haechan pressing a kiss to her cheek covering the case. Exactly, Haechan has a girlfriend.. A perfect, high class, designer wearing, spoiled princess.

Jeno leans over once Haechan manages to redirect the topic back to nonsense about sports. “That’s not how you really know each other is it?”

If your childhood friend wanted to wish for the past to never exist, why shouldn’t you?

“That is, my mother used to deliver fresh produce to his families estate.” You lie, feigning confidence. Jeno scowls, pressing in closer near your ear for no one else to listen.

“You smell like a liar.” He turns just slightly, letting strands of your hair trace across the bridge of his nose. “Like dirt poor trash, someone who had to work for pennies and dimes since childhood.”

A shout threatens to rip free past your lips. Jolting straight, you face Jeno abruptly. Defined brows lift, egging you to do something. ‘Snitch, I dare you.’ That’s what he said.

The old you would have fought back, the naive innocent you that hadn’t been crushed by the weight of harsh existence yet.

“Did you bring you your toothbrush?” Jeno sneaks up on you a few days after your unforgettable meeting. This time you were at least smart enough to hide the note in your pocket when he spoke.

‘I enjoy watching you study. You probably have no idea how your forehead wrinkles, how often you huff and groan to yourself. Writing so pretty and neat, everything about you is so perfect, isn’t it? I hope you will study with me one day. I’m willing to bet there is so much you can teach me.

-Your Teddy Bear’

Haechan had asked to borrow your notes in the library yesterday.

“You’re in Bio-Chem too?” He notes, peeping over your shoulder. “Wow, you’re smart huh? No wonder my dad won’t shut up about you.”

Haechan’s tongue clicks, whining about how he’s failing the course. “Can I borrow your notes? I really need to ace this next exam. Promise I’ll give them back.”

By now for as smart as you are, you should know he’s no good with promises. What he’s good at is resting his head on your shoulder, batting his pretty eyes. Poking out his lips in an irritatingly cute pouty shape.

“You know, no one knows I used to be poor.” Haechan brings it up one day. Stretching and cracking his back while seated next to you in the library. None of his friends ever seemed to venture into these parts..

“Are you ashamed of where you came from?” You ponder, keeping your eyes trained on words jumbling together. Even his voice had become more mesmerizing to listen to than you’d prefer to admit.

“No?” Haechan sounds confused, cheeks bouncing side to side in thought. “Maybe I am.”

“I think you are.”

“I’ve changed a lot right?” Haechan smiles, obviously happy about that.

“You definitely have.” Looking over his face, you think, a lot is an understatement. A once cute playful boy selfless enough to split his favorite candy bars with you. Erased and replaced by an arrogant lazy snob who couldn’t even bother to finish his assignments.

All the years you wondered once in a while what had become of your special friend Haechan. Has Seoul treated him well? Did he adapt nicely?

He changed, you changed, but even knowing this you held a shred of hope that your teddy bear could still be somewhere in there.

“Hey,” Jeno pushes on your spine, crashing chest first into your locker. “I asked you something, are you dumb?”

“What do you want me to answer first?” You mumble annoyed.

“Pfft.” Jeno glances around, taking a hold of your arm from behind. “You’re talking back to me?”

Walking down the hall, Jeno moves you with him outside. Trudging past groups with people waving and smiling whenever anyone greets him. “Let me guess, you did not bring your toothbrush?”

“Can’t you leave me alone today? I have an exam in an hour.” You argue, attempting to free yourself from his hold. Jeno scoffs at that, pushing you inside a bathroom that’s luckily empty.

“You like to play dumb, don’t you?” With no warning, Jeno cups your shoulders forcing you down onto your knees. Quickly throwing an old toothbrush at your face. He leans back against the door, foot landing on your thigh. “You want to study? Start cleaning.”

“What the fuck? No!” Anger takes over, refusing to indulge this sick game Jeno’s taken to playing. He’d have to find someone else to victimize today.

“Did I ask?” Jeno balls your hair up in fists, pulling until your back arches. Stunned, your jaw flies open, regrettably moaning.

It shouldn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel good, but it does.

Clamping your lips together, you’re fast to look away. Not fast enough for Jeno to miss it. “Disgusting.” He snickers.

That doesn’t stop a smirk from painting his lips. Pulling the tufts of hair harder until you’re swallowing back humiliating moans. Each pull loosening the tension and stress locking your neck in place. Weeks of worry and fear, constantly dwelling on the future.

“You like this, don’t you?” Jeno smiles, lapping his lower lip. Instead of answering you reach for the toothbrush, pressing it to the foot that’s still stepping heavily on your leg. “Nu-uh, that won’t do dumby.”

Roughly throwing your head down until you fold over, Jeno orders for you to lick his shoe clean first. “You think that’s going to get clean by just brushing it? God, how stupid are you?”

The memory of dragging your wet tongue across the minuscule black dot on Jeno’s new shoes sickens you. Playing like a VHS tape that’s been rewinded one too many times, constantly skipping scenes, showing the same one over and over again.

The worst part was when he demanded you finish the job with a kiss. “Consider it an apology for ruining my fucking day.”

That’s what Jeno said, discreetly adjusting his crotch before stepping out heading to class.

Each day turned into another strategic move, Jeno sat across from you. Knocking over your chessman, slowly draining you of any will to fight against him.

“You love studying so much, don’t fucking move.” Jeno sets a third thick hardcover book down. Sweats trickling down your forehead, salty wetness landing between the split of your lips. Resisting the urge to whimper and cry. Arms ready to give out under the weight of books he’s forced you to carry in each hand while on your knees.

“You always have your face buried in these books.” Jeno mumbles from behind. Pulling your hair into two separate sections to grab on. “Do you see how even the things you love can hurt you.”

Those words echoed through your mind often as well. Most of the time he had nothing nice to say, well, he never had anything nice to say.

Sometimes he made sense. He played a role like everyone else, smiling and boasting about upcoming trips. All the places he’s traveled to, the luxury sports car he spent every weekend waxing off until it sparkled like glitter.

It’d become a routine. Sleep. Study. Evade Jeno. Reread the daily notes from your teddy bear.

‘You looked so pretty today, I noticed your lip color matched your nails. Was that for me? Do you know I’m watching you? I’m always watching you. I want you to be mine, we’re the same you and I.

If you want to meet me, please bring the teddy bear to school tomorrow and meet me in Room 0423.

-Your Teddy Bear’



——————————————————-

Room 0423 hasn’t been occupied in years. Construction put on hiatus in favor of building a new wing, the end of the hallway you walk through hasn’t been in use since a freak fire some years back. Charred lockers and messed up tiling. Only a few of the rooms near the entrance are still put to use for the photography classes to use as dark rooms. It was rare to ever find students in the area. Other than when Jeno would drag you to one of the empty bathrooms nearby.

If someone wanted to meet in private it made sense to do it in the abandoned building, not that knowing that did anything to quill your nerves.

The room itself isn’t in such bad shape. Mostly dusty bookshelves and window sills from lack of maintenance. For the most part completely unharmed by the fire, accumulating debris and ashes from air circulation.

Even the chalkboard looked freshly washed still, tracing your finger across it with hardly any marks left behind. No sign of life, empty memories.

“You’re here.” A voice you know too well to easily confuse for Haechan startles you enough to jump up with a gasp. Jeno struts between the rows of desks, the door clicking shut behind him. His necks arched back displaying the full width of his muscular throat, prominent Adam’s apple. Shoulders solid and broad with hands in his pockets tapering his waist even more.

“Jeno?” Confusions more evident in the wrinkle between your brows. Tightly clutching the teddy bear plush to your chest the closer Jeno comes. Only stopping once there’s hardly any space left between the two of you, just enough to loom a dark shadow over your figure. “What are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here.” Jeno rolls his eyes. Neck loosening in a stretch side to side cracking with each precise movement. “Oh..”

The tips of his fingers graze his upper lip, eyes large by the stretch of his brow yanking them to fully open. Emitting a mocking gasp, his lips part open to add more shock. “Right. You really thought Haechan was the one sending you those letters didn’t you?”

“Did he tell you about this?” You wonder, Jeno is one of Haechan’s best friends after all..

“My stupid teddy bear.” Jeno smirks, tugging on the bear's ear squeezed to death in your grasp. “I thought you were smart and would figure it out sooner. You must really like him to act this brainless.”

“What.. you—?” Jeno lets out a sarcastic gasp, wide gaze adding mockery.

“There’s that dim light bulb.” He snarls, hissing between his teeth. “I made it so obvious, didn’t I? The thing is, you so desperately wanted it to be Haechan..”

“I don’t get it, why would you? You hate me that much?” Of course it wasn’t Haechan. Not Haechan who didn’t even want to remember the times you cherished.

“Not at all.” Jeno coo’s when your eyes start to water. “I’ve thought about it..” his head tilts, admiring the tears cascading down your warm cheeks over his thumbs. Trickling way past his wrist watch, following a path of veins along his forearm. The idea of your pain against his strength doing more to excite him than he can stand much longer.

“If we had met under different circumstances. If my father hadn’t groveled like some pathetic loser to Haechan’s dad to save us. To continue developing my education in this overpriced prissy shithole..”

The corner of Jeno’s lip tweaks, it’s as much of a smile as he’s ever shown you up until now. Leaning in closer to lick the stream of tears landing at the crevice of your nose. He stays near, whispering just by your eye. “We could have met in a different way, community college or some bullshit. We could have had a chance at normalcy.”

He stands up right, kissing his teeth. Shoving the pads of his fingers deeper into your cheeks until the fat dips beneath. “But you had to like Haechan. That pretentious upper class rich asshole who’s never had to fend for shit his entire life. He’ll never understand where you come from.”

Jeno licks his lips, salivating the more you cough and cry. Brain throbbing from the collapsed image before him, in his hands. A broken pathetic thing to rebuild how he wants, make perfect. “I understand. I see you for what you really are. We’re the same really, you and I.”

“I’m nothing like you!” You squeak, gripping onto the teddy bear's neck for a confidence boost. “You’re awful! You’re the most horrendous person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m trash.” Jeno states proudly. Licking the back of his hand clean of your spilled tears. “Just like you. I knew after watching you for only a few days.”

Reminding yourself that Jeno doesn’t deserve anything from you, you push past him headed for the door. Pulled by your waist to lay against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going teddy? We’re not done here. We’re just getting acquainted.”

“Let me go!” Dropping the stuffed bear, you fight against his thick forearms squeezing around you. Kicking back at Jeno’s legs.

“Fine!” Jeno really let’s you go, squatting down to pull your hair before you can crawl away. Erupting a string of cursed screams, he pulls you too roughly. Finding a few strands of hair between his fingers later.

“You’re a smart girl when it comes to those stupid books teddy,” he says, positioning you on your knees. Something he’s become familiar with. “But you’re so fucking stupid when it comes to literally everything else, huh?”

He has the nerve to laugh, pushing your loose sweater off. Tsking and mumbling about how it’s a shame you cover yourself up so much. “I could tell though.”

Tweaking your chest, Jeno rips your top away, seams bursting from his brutal hands. Pressing a kiss on your sternum, he blinks up, observing the droplets hanging from the tip of your nose. “So pretty when you cry like that. That’s how I make you cry teddy.”

Jeno moves the teddy bear beneath your lower half. Thighs spread over its face. The same plush you’ve cuddled and held for nights, pretending Haechan could like you. That you could be the one wearing matching clothing with him..

Seeming pleased with your position, Jeno rips your underwear to the side. Grabbing one of your shoulders, his other hand trails up past your breast. Nose meeting yours with a soft kiss to your upper lip.

“Bet you wish your real teddy bear would come save you now.” Jeno laughs in your face. Taking a hold of your neck, he pushes until your cunt presses down on the plushies face. Whimpering filled with embarrassment.

Jeno wishing he only had a camera set-up to remind you of what a dumb whore you are with photos plastered all over the inside of your locker. Dropping one on the floor in class just to make you squirm. Next time, he’d have to remember.

“Do you know how stupid you look right now teddy?” Jeno gathers a chunk of your hair mercilessly. Yanked back to the point of miserable strain in your neck. Cock throbbing hard enjoying the shame taking over your soft face. “Come here.”

A sick satisfaction fills his chest, obliging you to sit on one of his thighs. Jeno relaxes into the old teachers chair, cupping one side of your hips. “Move.”

Biting down on his lip, Jeno’s other hand presses on your stomach. Shifting you to move up and down his thigh enough for your clit to rub roughly against his slacks. Flexing muscles against your inner thighs on purpose to get you more frustrated.

“Fucking your toy wasn’t enough?” He says meanly, wrapping an arm around your waist until you’re flush to his chest. “Such a dumb stupid little moronic slut.”

His free hand reaches up, prodding three fingers inside your mouth. Shoved deep enough to gag around. He starts thrusting them in and out quickly. Pushing back far enough to make you choke and cough. Gurgling up wads of drool that spill out gathering around his wrist.

“Tell me, tell me what a dumb slut you are.” Jeno bounces beneath you. Knee jerking between your legs in a harsh manner until you’re riding his thigh. Eyes rolled up moaning around the fingers clogging your mouth.

“I-I’m du-uhm” he knows you can’t properly speak. Gagging and lurching until the top of his button down shirts drenched in saliva.

“Look at this fucking mess you made, stupid and filthy.” Jeno rips free from your mouth, smacking wetly on your cheek until you glance between your bodies. His chest rising and falling faster with each bated breath.

“Clean. It. Up.” Controlling you by your hair again, he pushes your face into his chest. Hard enough to make you gasp for air. Thigh roughly stimulating your clit with no loss of speed. He reaches down, landing hard whip-like smacks on your ass. Rolling your face against the sloppy mess of drool. “Have to do everything for you.”

Standing up suddenly, Jeno pushes you too hard, crashing down on your knees, painful enough to sting. He peers down at you, slowly unbuttoning his top.

“Look at that.” Nodding to a near invisible sheen at the top of his abs, his tongue clicks. “Lick it off.”

Lick it off, just how you licked his shoe. Inching your tongue past every dip and muscle on his stomach just to get to the spot he’s complained about. That’s what Jeno meant, he meant to clean him. Clean him, make him less of a piece of shit.

“Exactly, maybe you aren’t just book smart.” He sighs pleased. Hard cock digging against your chin while you take extra time to dip in and out of his bellybutton. Lost in the thought of how smooth his skin feels under your tongue. A vivid image of Jeno standing under hot water, lathered up in soap, removing every trace of body hair that would hide any of his perfect figure.

Jeno could get off on this alone. The random sucks you give to each carved muscle. Twitching under your mouth’s working movements. But that would do nothing to calm his thoughts of painting your face with lines of cum. Jerking off on your eyes just to watch you suffer and cry about how you can’t see. Having to beg him to help you clean it off.

Undoing his pants, he considers it. Pushing them down past his narrow hips enough to let his balls breathe. He strokes lazily over himself, the tips of his fingers barely touching. Terrified large eyes stare up, the visual of his cock taking over most of your face from this angle dizzying enough to make him eyes roll.

“Jeno, please..I can’t. You’re too big..” a soft broken beg trails up to his ears. Cock twitching at the misery filling your vocals.

“Kiss it, at the tip.” He says huskily. Jerking the fat length before you. Slit glowing with stringy precum, dangling loose. “Taste it. I’m not asking.”

He moves forward, not giving you much of a choice. The wet tip smearing on your pursed lips. Leaving behind a gloss coat. “Smell it, get in there teddy. That pathetic dumb mouth talks back a lot, I know you can do better.”

Another push has your lips wrapped snugly around the fat tip of Jeno’s cock. Dramatically crying now, throat and body already drained of energy. Precum drips fiercely out of his slit, dampening the center of your tongue with a bitter tangy taste.

Coughing around Jeno’s length finally breaching way half inside. He grunts irritated, pulling your hair harder until you let out a fresh batch of tears.

“God you suck at sucking cock.” His eyes roll, this time in frustration. Bending at his knees to move you onto the desk. Jeno strikes your ass three times for good measure. Claiming disobedience, but that you’re a fast learner. You’ll learn how to properly take dick under his teaching soon enough.

He licks your face clean of tears, shushing you, gently pressed to your lips. “You want a real reason to cry? I’ll give you one.”

Jeno’s got you on your back in seconds. Manhandling you around this classroom with strength you’d only experienced in short moments before. Tossed and turned any direction he wanted.

“I knew my teddy would have the prettiest pussy.” He smiles sharply. Pupils large and black, endorphins too high from the incessant pounding need to cum. Gripping himself around the base of his length to slap down on your slit. Folds gushing with wetness clapping around the heavy meat landing against you.

“Jeno, please..” you whine, eyes shut tight at the roll your hips give.

“So wet for me. What the fuck are you begging for? Too dumb to even understand how bad you wanna get fucked huh?” Lining up to your pulsating hole, he starts to push in. Relishing in the sounds of anguish pouring out of your lips. Neck going loose, soaking up every torn whimper your throat presents him.

“Good thing Haechan never got to fuck you.” Jeno smirks, struck by your mound lifting the further he pushes inside. “Would have fallen in love with you like the weak little bitch he is.”

Jeno’s bigger than the two guys you’ve hooked up with back home. Twice as thick and long. Broad figure hovering above you shadowing darkness around you. He’s monstrous, physically stretching your walls to fit the entirety of his length.

“My pretty teddy, with the tiniest pussy to ruin.” He keeps mumbling. Falling into his own daze of satisfaction. Cursing and chewing on his upper lip. He smacks your thigh, pushing the rest of his length in. Arching up under him with a pained cry, he’s so deep, too deep.

“Tell me you love it,” he reaches up, scooping your face to make you watch him. “Cry and shout, but look at how your pussy wants me. Gripping around me begging for my cum.”

“T-too big. Big, b-big.” You can’t rip away your gaze from where he collides with your core. Glistening cock plunging in and out, in and out. More coated in your arousal with each drawback. Impulsively squeezing every time Jeno fills you up again.

“Fuck, you’re too good for me aren’t you teddy? Pussy sucking on my cock better than that mouth can.” Jeno’s motions speed up. Trapping you in a folded position, legs pushed up onto his shoulders. He draws your ass half off the desk, ramming against your bottom hard enough for the old furniture to shake and creak underneath you. “Bet that pussy never gets used huh? I’ll change that, fuck you everyday until all your hole knows it how to take my cock.”

Jeno’s stamina only accelerates the more you cry. Groaning and rolling his eyes blissfully. Tongue laving the stream of tears dripping down past your chin. “Keep crying like that for me, say my name.”

Dropping one of your legs, he grabs onto your jaw, shaking your face side to side. Commanding you say his name again with a growl.

“Jeno!” You have to shout, fingers bury under your tongue. Tugging down until pools of saliva combine with the puddle of tears around you. Jeno motivated by your dirty appearance to fuck harder and faster. Aiming his next thrust with precision. Hitting the bundles of nerves that race down to your toes. Biting down on his fingers lodged halfway in your mouth to control the painful cries that sound.

“My dumb stupid teddy, cumming around my cock again.” Jeno shows no pity, fuckng with extra urgency past your convulsing heat. Sweat shoots off his face at the rapid succession of thrusts. Neck arched back revealing the expanse of his broad drenched chest. Traces of spit left behind on the chiseled lines etching definition on his stomach. Waist dipping with each pound of his pelvis down. Sharp enough to bruise and ache the backs of your thighs for days to come.

“Love how your pussy swallows me up.” Scrunching his brows together, Jeno looks down. Admiring how fast he glides in and out, coated in your release. “Need to cum.”

“No! no! Not inside!” Squirming away is useless with Jeno’s hands splayed around your waist. Delivering three more pointed thrusts, he groans falling down. Forehead rolling back and forth on your chest releasing raspy guttural cries. Steamy warmth fills you up, losing no rhythm, he keeps thrusting. Obscene sounds of wetness squish between your lower halves. Driving his hips forward until the last spurt of cum spills out.

“Out! Pull out!” You whimper, throat scratched up from too many cries and screams.

Jeno props himself up, masking your pleading with a noisy grunt. Circling his hips painfully against yours. He comes down to a slow grind, gripping one of your wrists, pressing your hand down on the skin bulging out above your navel.

“I’ll protect you. Never let that fucker Haechan near you again.” Jeno sounds crazed. Pressing the tips of your fingers against your abdomen’s skin covering the tip of his length. “Now you’ll be my teddy bear.”

——————————————————-

Jeno’s instructions are clear and concise. Be ready by 7am, wait for him at the corner bus stop, and don’t talk.

“I can’t stand chatter this early in the morning.” He drones on the way to school. “That’s why I like you, you’re quiet.”

You shouldn’t feel flattered, blaming the nervous stir passing through your stomach on skipping breakfast. If Jeno hadn’t petrified you into silence you’d let him know the truth- you’re only quiet because you’ve never wanted to talk to him. Why would you after his unrelenting harassment?

“Did you write down your schedule for me like I asked?” Jeno pulls into a parking spot, palm held open expectantly.

Of course you did, because you’d do anything Jeno asks of you now. His intentions are straight to the point, whether you want it or not he’d be around. Lurking in the shadows, peering over your shoulder. Observing you even at a distance, studying your every move.

“Good, let’s go to the main office. I’ll put in the transfer requests to match your schedule.” Jeno’s eyes are hidden behind black tinted frames. Fierce eyebrows bouncing above them in a snarky manner.

He doesn’t bother to grab the door for you, shoving his book bag at your chest. “See, once I’ve switched to all of your classes, we’ll be together all day.”

Jeno’s walking with his head held high. Smacking his lips as he goes on, keys twirling around a pointer finger. “You will finish all of my assignments. We’ll work together for every project.” Stopping abruptly, he forces a heaved breath from your chest with his forearm smacking against your ribs.

“Of course, you will sit next to me at all times. I expect my grades to be that of a student riding on a scholarship. Nothing but perfect scores.”

Jeno seems pleased by the silence he receives, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger. “I told you, you’re perfect for me. We were made for each other.”

“Hey guys!” Haechan’s jogging down the hall toward the two of you. Waving and smiling, momentarily confused as he nears noticing Jeno touching you in such an unusual way. A soft growl passes through his throat, snapping away from facing you to hide your body as much as he can behind himself.

“Haechan.” Jeno stiffens up, taking a stance with hands on his hips to pump his chest out. Jaw locked tight, stretching his neck high to glare down at the other standing only a couple of inches shorter.

“Heyyy man?” Haechan hesitates, eyes crossing in confusion. Bouncing up on his toes to catch a glimpse of you behind Jeno. “What’s going on? Is everything—“

“It’s time for you to go to class.” Jeno clasp one of Haechan’s shoulders in a ruthless grip. Enough for a pained squeak to embarrassingly escape him.

“Dude, what the fuck?“ Haechan grunts attempting to shake off his ‘friend’ “What the fuck is your problem man.”

“You.” Jeno smirks, pushing Haechan further back. “You are my problem. A problem I’m tired of dealing with.”

“Jeno, what the fuck?!” Haechan sounds pissed off. Confusion evades him as fighting instinct sets in. Resisting to push back when he spots you peeking over Jeno’s shoulder. “Are you okay?!”

“DON’T talk to her.” Jeno spits, roughly shoving Haechan’s other shoulder until he trips back stumbling over his feet. “In fact, you will never speak to her again.”

“Man, I don’t know what the fuck you’re on.” Haechan grits, spine ramrod straight, resisting Jeno’s intimidation. “Stop telling me what to do.”

“I’m not telling you. I’m warning you.” Jeno swipes open his phone, tapping a few times before showing Haechan a display of photos. “Actually, I’m threatening you.”

Haechan’s lips part, taking in a deep breath, letting out a tired sigh. “What do you plan to do with those?”

“I could go to the principal? Local newspaper? Straight to daddy? Inform him of what a loser his son is?” Jeno smirks, proudly opening up incriminating photos of Haechan partaking in illegal drug use. “I can just see it now- millionaires chaebol son! Addicted to snorting away his father’s money!”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Haechan’s distress reminds you of your own. Who knows when Jeno’s plans had begun..

“I told you.” Stepping to stand by your side, Jeno’s arm drapes around your shoulders. “Don’t speak to her again, don’t even look at her. I have more than enough to ensure dear daddy cuts you off for good. See how much everyone loves you when you’re nothing but a slum like me.”

Haechan prepares to protest, lifting his hand to motion for Jeno to stop. Shot down and smacked away instantly.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late to class.” With lips pressed to your forehead, Jeno drags you away. Leaving his former friend gaping like a fish out of water.

It feels like a melancholy scene out of a movie. Haechan grows smaller and smaller the further Jeno moves the two of you along. Much like the day he moved away, forgetting of your existence.

“Don’t ever think about him again.” Jeno mutters. Sitting your lifeless body down, he presses a kiss to your cheek. “He’ll forget about you, just like he did so easily before. You never meant anything to him.”

You never meant anything to him, but you mean something to Jeno..

At least that’s what he tells you. His actions speak otherwise, hauling you to sit by his side in your next class. Mentioning on his way in to the TA curiously eyeing him that he’d be joining soon and would love to become familiar.

“See,” Jeno bites his bottom lip to contain a prideful smile. Tickling the stray hairs by your ear, he pushes them back freeing your cheek up to speak against. “We don’t need all these fake assholes.”

Leading you toward the back, Jeno grabs the chair's leg you’ve sat on. A loud shrill screeching across the floor, knocking your knee into his. “You will sit next to me like this from now on.”

Noticing a few lingering eyes and hushed whispers directed your way, he presses closer to you. Nose nestled in your hair transfixed by the remaining scent of your shampoo. Glaring toward your peers snooping eyes and whispering lips.

“Now they all know.” Leaning back enough to cup your face, the pad of Jeno’s thumb brushes beneath your eye. Warmth fills the black pools roaming over your broken features. Admiring the hard work he’s put in, picking at a block of frozen ice everyday until it cracks. “You belong to me. You’re my teddy bear.”

Next—> Our Sick Story, Thus Far

#jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct 00 line smut #kpop smut #onek #jeno fanfic #lee jeno fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #kpop fanfic #nct jeno #neopuppy fics

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

Ghostface | Pt.2

Pairing: Stu!Ghostface x female!reader

Prompt/summary: Time went by slow after that night the masked stranger broke into your house. When he appears for a quick meetup in your shed, your hopes were high that he would stick around this time, maybe even reveal who he was. Instead, you learn that he was the man who killed your old schoolmate and you’re left with a mental dilemma until he decides to come back. But what will you do when he finally takes the mask off and tells you the truth? 

Word count: 6.3K

Warnings/contents: Fluff, mild language, kissing 

Notes: Okay, so I was torn for, like, awhile on what direction to take this chapter and how the reader would find out that the masked stranger is actually Stu, so I hope that you guys like the rout I took for this. Enjoy soft Stu. I want to also say thank you to everybody for being so patient while I was writing this. I know how much I hate having to wait for part 2 to come out, but the creativity just wasn't coming to me for such a long time.

Now that it's finally here, I hope it's as good as the first one, or it's worth the wait. As the author I feel biased in saying I don't love it because I had to write it, pause and then proofread to see where I was at and make sure I wasn't repeating myself, and then write it again, and then repeat the process, and then proofread all of it at once in the end.

You can find part 1 here! 

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It had been a week and a half now since the mysterious stranger had broken into your house, and despite not hearing a single word from him again, you couldn’t get it off of your mind. That night, you laid in your bed for hours before finally being able to fall asleep. Not a single word had been uttered about that night, when your friend asked why you stopped replying, you lied and said you had fallen asleep. If she knew the truth, she would have called you insane, made you do a rape test to get his DNA and convinced you to go to the cops. 

Why hadn’t you done that? Even you weren’t sure. The next day, you were on the edge of your seat. You’d even called into work because you just couldn’t think. 

Your parents were back home, asleep in their room while you sat in your plush chair in your own beside the lamp reading your book; a gripping horror novel that you couldn’t put down. It was nearly 2 o’clock in the morning and your eyes were exhausted, but you had tomorrow off and you wanted to spend your time reading, you would simply sleep in tomorrow. It would be worth it. 

It only happened in times like these, but for once, the man was off of your mind. However, when you were at work, it seemed impossible to not think back to that night; you had sex before, but it had been nothing like that. Not knowing who he was had almost excited you even more— he had been right, and that had made you shiver at the thought. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think that you would ever had enjoyed what happened that night. Not until you experienced it. 

Your phone started to silently buzz against your leg. You didn’t think too much of it; sometimes your friend would call you at night to see if you were awake. Nonchalantly, you glanced down, expecting to see her goofy contact photo. Instead, you were greeted with the familiar words ‘no caller ID’ for the second time. You were quick to put your bookmark into the page you were on, completely forgetting the words that you’d just read, and set the book down as you reached for your phone. 

Your hands nearly shook as you brought your phone to your ear. 

“Hello?” Your voice was quiet, not wanting your parents to hear you in case they were awake. 

“Hello, (y/n).” The familiar voice spoke over the phone, and even though it had been so long since you had spoken to him, his voice sounded like someone you’d spoken to every day. You couldn’t help the tingle of excitement in your stomach. 

“I hadn’t thought that I would hear from you again.” You said, peeking at your window that was locked and covered by your thin curtains. 

“Why not?” You were quiet. “I’ve been here and there this whole time.” He said as if it was nothing. “You look cute when you’re zoned out. Thinking about my cock inside of you?” The man teased, a devious laugh following his words as if he could see the way your face flushed. 

“Do I get to know who you are yet?” You asked, glancing around your room as if he was going to appear out of nowhere like he had last time. “Or are you going to leave me in suspense forever?” 

“I haven’t decided.” 

“Where are you?” He was quiet. “Are you here?” 

“It might be hard to fuck you with your parents in the next room; you’re not what I would call quiet in bed.” The man teased. “If you want it so bad, come outside.” You were quiet for a moment before you spoke. 

“Outside…?” Ever since you were little you had been afraid of the dark. Sleeping in the comfort of your own room with the door shut and the lights off was one thing, but going outside late at night when nobody was around was something that you had never done or wanted to do. It was dangerous. You were afraid of the worst that could happen. 

As if the worst hadn’t already happened when he broke into your house and fucked you. 

“What? Afraid of the dark?” He asked, but the tone of his voice made you think that he already knew the answer. “Come outside. Meet me behind the shed. I’ll be waiting.” And with that, he hung up, leaving you in the silence of your bedroom. 

You set your phone and book aside, standing and quietly creeping towards your bedroom door. You opened it as quiet as you could and crept out, hearing the snores coming from your parents room. Their door was shut, but you still winced at every creak in the stairs. 

Knowing that turning on the light to the backyard would wake your parents up, you kept it off and unlocked the door, sliding it shut behind you and holding onto the handle like a lifeline. The backyard was pitch black and the shed was on the other end around the pool— that thankfully had lights so that you wouldn’t accidentally fall into it. The last thing you needed was to try and explain to your parents why you were fully dressed and in the pool at two in the morning. 

Slowly, you worked your way towards the old tool shed and crept around the side. Behind the shed was well kept, but nothing was ever back there. There was no point in leaving things behind the shed. You looked around, finding yourself alone in the darkness. You wondered if the man had tricked you, but you jumped when a twig snapped beneath someones feet. You spun quickly, looking up at the man. 

He stood tall, the mask placed perfectly obscuring his face and the costume he wore last time hung loose around his ankles. You didn’t say a word as the man stepped closer to you, but this time you didn’t back away from him either. You waited and watched, craning your neck to look up at him when he stopped in front of you. 

“You know, if my parents woke up…” You hesitated, unsure of exactly what would happen if someone happened to glance out of their window and see you standing in your backyard in the middle of the night, conversing with a masked, cloaked stranger that nobody— even you— knew. You reached up, rubbing your bare arms quietly. A gloved hand reached forward and tilted your chin up. “It would be a lot easier to explain a boy in my room than… this.” 

“You’re saying you want me in your room again.” The man spoke as if he was making a question, but he chuckled. “I told you, I don’t know yet.” With a sigh, you grasped his hand from your chin and brought him with you this time, walking around the shed and opening the rickety door. You were quick to walk inside and drag him in with you, reaching up for the dim overhead light as you shut the door. 

There was more room than usual in the old shed after your father had gotten rid of the old lawnmower and was on the hunt for a new one, though there were still an abundance of old tools lined against the back wall that the man could use to maim you. 

You made sure that the door was completely shut before you looked back and turned your full attention to the man that was standing there staring at you. 

“Why are you back?” You asked, getting nothing in response from the man before you. “What if someone saw you sneaking around?” He chuckled this time. 

“Worried?” He asked tauntingly. “I came back for you.” The words shouldn’t have made your heart flutter the way that it did, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that settled uneasily in your gut when you were around the man. Everything was wrong with him, but maybe that was what excited you. “I haven’t been caught yet.” You weren’t exactly sure what that meant; did he mean that he hadn’t been caught here, or was he out doing this in multiple places? What was his motive? 

You hesitated for a second before you spoke again. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” You asked quietly, met only with the blank stare of the mask as you eyed him. “Killed that girl.” He was quiet. “Were you going to kill me, too?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“I didn’t feel like it.” 

“Why did you feel like killing her?” 

“Because I wanted to.” The cold words left the man and left a dry lump to form in your throat. What if he had just felt like killing you? What if he changed his mind and felt like that soon? You were once again in a compromising position with the man that just admitted to killing someone that you used to sit next to in math class when you were in high school. “You ask a lot of questions.” A blindfold was pulled from the mans pocket once again and was dangled lightly in front of you. 

“Do you want to kill me?” 

“No.” 

“What if you change your mind?” This time, he was quiet. With a sigh, you leaned closer to the man and closed your eyes. You weren’t sure what was going to happen this time, but you couldn’t help it— you just couldn’t say no to the man. Not with the unknown of what could happen. This time he left your wrists unbound, dangling by your side almost awkwardly. The man in front of you moved closer, his gloved hand reaching up for your chin again. 

You let him guide you, eyed closed and blocked from whatever he was doing. You were shocked when a pair of warm, chapped lips pressed to yours, but you were quick to give in to the man. His tongue teased your bottom lip as you shifted on your feet, unsure of whether or not you were allowed to reach for the man with your free hands. 

As if he read your mind, the stranger reached down and grasped your hands in his. He brought them to his shoulders and let them rest there while you let his tongue push into your mouth; he was an exceptional kisser, his warm body moving to press close to yours while your fingers grasped at the halloween costume he wore. You dared to explore, touching the warm base of his neck. When he didn’t stop you, you let your fingers wander further, grazing his jawline before you felt his hair. 

You didn’t care about who he was as he led you back a few steps. Your back pressed to the shed door and his hand slipped behind your head to hold it in his large hand. You gave into his every movement, letting the man do whatever he pleased while you moved your hand to feel his face; clean-shaven, soft skin rubbed beneath your fingers as he kissed you. 

The man reached down with his hand and grasped at your thigh, lifting it easily and wrapping it around his waist, making it easier for him to slide closer to you. His body fully pressed against your own, the obvious hardness in his pants pressed to you. Your hand moved up in his hair, running through it while you kissed the man back almost desperately. You ignored every tingle in your body, every instinct, and let him pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist while he pushed you back against the wall again. 

He moved away from your lips, nudging your chin up and pressing his mouth to your neck. You leaned your head back, giving a soft sigh as he gently sucked on your skin. You were hoping that he wouldn’t leave a hickey for one simple reason: how the hell would you explain that to your friend tomorrow? 

His teeth nipped teasingly at your skin, not hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to elicit a low sound from the back of your throat. 

Lips pressed back to yours, pulling you in for another heated kiss— but there was something different about this one. Even before when he was kissing you like he was desperate for it, this time it felt stronger. The urge to feel your lips against his had surpassed even him as he squeezed your hips. The bruises were fading from the last time that he had come here to see you, but his grip still gave you a tinge of pain as he held you. 

He smelled fresh— intoxicating. His kiss was too good to deny. His body against yours made you tingle. The shame couldn’t even sit in your chest when his tongue pressed to your mouth again. Your fingers grazed his cheek, tracing along his jawline before they rested on his neck. 

Suddenly, the man pulled back, moving far enough away that you couldn’t feel his breath on your lips anymore— but you could hear his soft breathing. You gave a soft sound when his hand groped at your bare chest over the shirt that you were. Both of you were silent— you were afraid that speaking would break the tension that was held over the two of you right now. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as he gave your nipple a light pinch. 

A quiet exhale left the man as he reached up to gently touch your face. His fingers traced your cheekbone down to your jaw before he pulled back, grabbing your hips and setting you down on the ground. You gulped lightly, listening intently for the man to make sure that he didn’t disappear on you again. Blindly reaching out, your fingers came into contact with the man sooner than you thought they would. 

“I thought you snuck out on me again.” The man before you only gave a soft hum to acknowledge that he had heard what you said. Then, his fingers edged behind yours and fiddled with the blindfold that you wore. You wanted desperately to know who the man was, but you weren’t surprised when you opened your eyes after he took the blindfold off and met the white Ghostface mask. 

Trying to hide your disappointment wasn’t easy as the man pushed the blindfold into his pocket this time. The man reached over to flick the light off and reach for the handle. For a moment, he hesitated; you held your breath, unsure if what to hope for in the moment, but you were quickly let down when he opened the door and stepped outside of the shed. 

You were left in dead silence as the man left. For a moment, you waited; part of you was hoping that the man would be outside of the shed when you stepped out, but you knew that he wouldn’t be. He had no reason to wait. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he? 

With a sigh, you walked out of the shed, entertain the dark backyard alone. You shut the shed door and crept back inside of your house, locking the back door and sneaking back upstairs to your bedroom. The soft snores of your parents gave you a moment of relief; at least, if anything, they hadn’t known about you and the masked stranger in your backyard in the middle of the night. 

Plopping back down on the plush chair, you grabbed your book, but you were left simply staring at the page filled with words, not processing anything that you were looking at. Your mind was empty, but it was racing a million miles a minute at the same time. 

The thought was heavy on your mind until somehow, at some point, you finally laid in your bed, closed your eyes, and fell asleep. It felt like hours went by, and maybe they did— you didn’t bother to check your clock. 

What was the point? It wouldn’t have mattered anyways. Whether it was 11 o’clock or 6 o’clock, you would still have been laying there contemplating everything but thinking nothing all at once. 

And when sleep finally took you, the last thought on your mind was that the man you were kissing smelled familiar. But you couldn’t pinpoint from where. 

<>~<>~<>

Tonight was date night; your parents effort to rekindle the romance had given you a night (or at least the better half of two hours) with the house all to yourself with your obliging work schedule. Sometimes that meant your friend would come over, sometimes it meant you’d pass out in front of the television on the sofa with some cheesy horror movie playing with empty takeout containers on the coffee table. 

Only twenty minutes had gone by since your parents had left, but because of the season, it was already dark outside. The lights were off, Nightmare on Elm Street was playing on the television. You were scrolling through your timeline on your phone, occasionally sending quick back and forth messages to your friends, but it was a relatively quiet night. You weren’t quite hungry yet, but an empty soda can sat on the coffee table waiting to be discarded. 

Truthfully, you were bored. You had been ever since that very first night nearly a month ago now. You had to admit, after a mysterious, masked stranger breaks into your house, it’s hard to find every day life exciting. You were left working with a bored mind and speaking with a lackluster vibe towards life in general. Everybody had sensed it by now, but nobody other than you (and most likely the myserteous stranger) knew why it had happened so suddenly. 

Your phone started to buzz on the coffee table. 

‘No caller ID.” 

You watched it for a moment, then with a sigh of discontent, you leaned up and grabbed it, then flipped it upside down. Was blocking the strange man out of your life even possible? You didn’t know, but you did know that if you didn’t answer, he would most likely just show up anyways. You weren’t in the mood for “Guess where I am” games tonight. 

With the finality of the phone call, your phone buzzed twice and then went silent. Not even a moment passed before there was a knock at the backdoor. 

You stood up, walking back to the glass door and seeing nobody there when you flipped the light on. You looked around for a moment before reaching to unlock the door and heading back towards the sofa. Things were quiet for a minute, almost unusually quiet, before the glass door slid open. With your back to the door, you simply watched the movie that was playing. 

The chance that this was someone else was too low for you to worry. Besides, if it was, who cared? Life was dull, maybe some excitement would spice things up for you again. 

With a frown, you looked back. What were you thinking? What was wrong with you? Even you were starting to go off of the deep end and finding it harder and harder by the day to fully understand what was going on. 

But sure enough, there he was: tall, cloaked, a mask placed perfectly on the face of the man that you assumed to be extremely handsome. You had felt his face, his strong jawline, his soft, short hair. Despite not being able to see him, there was a feeling in your gut that he was very attractive. 

Without a word, you looked back to the television as he slid the door shut. You heard it lock, then soft footsteps started to come closer to you. The floorboards right behind the sofa creaked. 

“Are you going to stay this time?” You asked, side eyeing the man as he moved around to the side of the sofa. “Because I’m not restarting the movie.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment before he sat down on the other end of the sofa, glancing from you towards the television. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Time seemed to creep by extra slow tonight. Maybe it was because you weren’t entangled in a heated, blindfolded make out session with the man like you were before, or maybe it was because no words were being said for the better half of twenty minutes. 

“Are you hungry?” You asked, standing up. “Because I’m getting hungry.” Heading to the kitchen, you left the man sitting alone in front of the television and opened the refrigerator. There were plenty of leftovers inside, but nothing jumped out at you. Your stomach grumbled, but as you searched effortlessly, not even the chips in the pantry sounded good. With a groan of annoyance, you shut the pantry and turned around, though you gave a soft gasp quickly afterwards. “You scared me.” You met his gaze through the mask; somehow he had quietly snuck into the kitchen and stood only a couple of feet away from you. How he’d perfectly avoided every creak in the floorboards you weren’t sure. It was almost as if he knew the layout. Had he been stalking you for that long? “Why are you just looking at me like that?” You asked in an almost annoyed tone. “What are you gonna do, Mr. Ghostface? Kill me?” You were almost patronizing the masked figure that didn’t budge. “I didn’t think so.” 

You walked around the man and walked towards your phone that sat in the living room. There were several messages from your friends, but you chose to ignore those, instead going to your apps and looking for the mobile pizza app. 

When all else failed, a pizza for delivery was never going to disappoint. 

“Are you opposed to pepperoni?” You asked aloud, glancing back towards the kitchen where the man still stood. He gave a small shake of his head, though time time he started to walk into the sitting room with you. “I’m thinking that pizza is kind of the only option here.” Quickly, you selected a medium pepperoni pizza and clicked delivery. Now, you had about twenty more minutes alone with the man before a nice distraction such as food came. 

You went to sit back on the sofa, but the man caught your wrist before you could move. You looked at him, confused. At first, he reached for his pocket. You knew what he was going to do so you tried to hide the disappointment on your face. 

But he shocked you, stopping himself and instead slowly reaching up and adjusting the mask to askew away from his mouth. You frowned at his strange behavior, watching as he slowly leaned in. 

You regained your composure quickly— after all, wasn’t this what you’d been wanting again this whole month? Even a small kiss from the man that you spent your nights daydreaming about. 

So you closed your eyes and tilted your head up. Warm fingers grasped your chin— you hadn’t even noticed he’d taken the black leather gloves he wore off— holding you in place for a shockingly soft kiss. This time, you automatically reached up, hands resting on his shoulders and holding onto his cloak. Your nose brushed the mask, but you didn’t think twice about it, tilting your head to the other side so that you wouldn’t disturb it. 

His warm hand rested behind your head, holding you close to him and deepening the gentle kiss. You swore you felt the same hint of desperateness that you had felt before. His hand moved away from your chin, reaching down to grasp at your waist and pull you snug against him. You gave a soft gasp into his mouth when he abruptly pulled you against him, only giving him the ample opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth. 

Your phone buzzed twice— a message, most likely from your friend that you hadn’t replied to— it was something that you ignored as he gently moved you back only pulling away from a moment to sit on the sofa with you. 

You went to sit beside the man, but he was quick to grasp your hips and pull you onto his lap. Your cheeks flushed and you gave a small, nervous laugh as you shifted against the man. 

“What are you so worried about?” He reached up, pulling the mask off of his face and meeting your, now shocked, eyes with his intense gaze. “You think I can’t handle you or something?” You went to speak, but instead only a small ‘uh’ escaped from your mouth. You were speechless, staring at the man with an open mouth. 

“I… Stu…?” Your shock was quick to turn to annoyance. “Are you fucking around with me right now?” He raised an eyebrow in question quickly. “Somehow, someway, you found out about that night and now you’re just trying to get on my nerves?” 

“You realize that makes absolutely no fucking sense, right?” 

“Yeah, well… well, you make no sense.” He scoffed. 

“Like when?” 

“Like right now. What are you… what are you doing?” 

“What I’ve wanted to do for a really, really long time, and what I’ve been too afraid to do because I was worried… well, I was worried that you wouldn’t… feel the same.” 

“So you dressed up as Ghostface and broke into my house?” He was quiet for a second before giving a slightly awkward laugh. 

“Yeah, uh… that was maybe a little weird.” 

“A little weird?” 

“Hey, you know what, you can’t even deny liking it. I felt how fucking wet you were, you secret little whore.” 

“Hey!” 

“I always knew you were like this.” He spoke over you, fingers gently grasping your hips. “I did this because… I was scared, okay.” He forced out, not meeting your gaze and instead keeping his eyes down on your clothed chest. “I was afraid that you’d hate me if I told you that I had a little… fuck— fine, a huge crush on you.” Your cheeks were warm as he clenched his jaw and sighed. “You already hate me when I’m me. I thought maybe… you wouldn’t hate me if I was someone else.” Your chest fell at his soft tone. 

“I don’t hate you,” you spoke gently. “I never hated you.” 

“You didn’t?” He asked, finally meeting your eyes. 

“No. You get on my nerves sometimes and I really hate how you’re always teasing and pestering me, but I never hated you. I always kind of liked you. Even when you were being obnoxious.” 

“There’s no chance you ever… liked me at all, is there?” 

“I guess I kind of thought you were cute when I first met you. But you seemed uninterested so I just kinda… brushed it off.” You shrugged gently. “Maybe… thinking about you that way again wouldn’t be that hard. I mean… you do make me laugh. And you’re pretty funny. And you do give really good head.” He chuckled. “But did you… did you really kill that girl…?” Stu was quiet for a second too long. You were tense on his lap as his fingers tightened on your waist. “Fuck, Stu— why?” 

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” He was joking, you knew that, but things were too tense for you to laugh at him. After all, you were finding out someone you had sat next to for years now was a murderer. “I’m joking.” He said when you didn’t laugh. “I’d never hurt you.” 

“Could I really trust that?” You asked softly. 

“I guess I can’t expect you to. But I can tell you that I wouldn’t anyways. And if I wanted to, I already would have. You and Billy are my best friends. I wouldn’t ever hurt my best friend.” 

“Does Billy know?” Stu hesitated for a second before giving a gentle nod. 

“But you can’t tell him that you know. He’d be pissed if he found out that I was here now. Or that I’d ever come here in the first place. I couldn’t stay last time because I had to go but… just don’t tell Billy.” 

“Is Billy… like this, too?” He was quiet, giving you your answer. But neither of you said anything. With a sigh, you looked down and shut your eyes. Warm fingers gently grasped your chin. 

“Listen, I know that this is a lot of information to take in. I didn’t want to tell you, but I don’t really like keeping secrets from you. It’s hard not to tell you whatever you’re asking when you look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know, you just have this look.” 

“Are you calling me intimidating?” 

“If the shoe fits.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it feels like you can just see right through me.” 

“After this past week of me being around you and not having a single clue that you were the masked stranger that broke into my house and gave me the best fuck I’ve ever had… I don’t think you’re really that transparent anymore. Sorry that I ever called you that in the first place. That was kind of mean.” Stu sent you a smile, a cute one. You knew that it should be different, but you were seeing Stu in a completely different light— and not a bad one. 

“Call it water under the bridge.” 

“What… happens now, Stu?” You asked, almost hesitantly. “Do we just go back to hanging out with Billy and pretend that this entire thing never happened?” With a soft hum, Stu gently squeezed your hips in his hands. 

“Maybe you’d let me… take you out and we could see what happens when I’m not just some masked stranger breaking into your house anymore. If you want.” You were quiet for a moment, eyeing the man with a nearly unreadable look on your face. Stu swallowed hard as you gently cupped his face in your hands and gave a soft hum. You leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips; when you pulled back his eyes were closed and lips still puckered. He sent you a disappointed look when he opened his eyes, but it was quick to change when you spoke. 

“I think I’d like that.” 

“You’re so pretty like this.” Immediately, you felt your face flush as you looked down. “Without the mask on and the blindfold covering these pretty eyes I can really see you.” He gently gripped your chin and made you look at him. “God… I always knew you had this intimidating look, but you never let me look at you like this. I could look at you like this forever.” Scoffing, you pushed his hand off and looked away again. 

“Quit buttering me up, I already told you I’d go out with you.” Stu gave a soft laugh and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your neck. 

“Can’t you just let me be nice to you?” 

“No, it’s weird.” 

“It’s only weird if you let it be weird.” With a soft huff, you forced yourself to meet his intense gaze again. 

“I’ve never thought of you like this before, I always kind of pictured you as a brother or a really weird friend. Thinking about you this way is… different. And you looking at me like that it’s just… you’ve never looked at me like that before.” 

“Not that you ever saw.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’re oblivious. I’ve always looked at you like this.” 

“I think that I would have noticed if you stared at me like… that.” 

“Well, you didn’t.” 

“The whole time?” With a soft laugh, Stu nodded his head. 

“The whole time.” 

“How didn’t I ever notice?” You asked with a frown. “I know I don’t always see things like that but… this feels hard to miss.” By the end of your sentence you spoke so softly Stu had barely heard you. He gave a soft laugh and shook his head. 

“I asked myself that question all of the time. But I was too worried you’d kick me out of your house if I ever came over alone. The easiest way to keep you from noticing was to have Sidney or Tatum around so you’d be distracted.” Stu sighed. “I don’t think you could ever really understand how pretty you look when you think nobody is watching you.”

“I wouldn’t have kicked you out— if you had ever come alone. Who knows, maybe I would have… noticed and you wouldn’t have had to go through all of this trouble in the first place” 

“Don’t you get it?” He laughed softly. “I’d do this over and over and over again if it meant that it would end up with you sitting on my lap like this. It doesn’t matter if we had to redo this entire life all over again, I’d always do whatever it took to get you here with me.” 

“And if we didn’t end up in the same life?” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“Then I would find you and I’d get you like this in that life, too.” He said confidently. “There’s something about you that draws me to you like nobody else ever has. Maybe that’s what it feels like to meet a soulmate. You believe in that kind of thing or do I sound like a dick-jerking idiot right now?” You laughed, making the man smile at the sound. 

“I never really believed in soulmates, but hey— anything is possible, right?” You shrugged. “I never thought I would have liked a stranger breaking into my house and fucking me, but here we are.” 

“Awe, you wanted me to come back.” He teased you. 

“I did.” You said softly. “I thought about you a lot. Not just sexually, but… I just wanted to know you.” 

“You’re crazy.” 

“Maybe.” 

“I like that.” 

“Men like you always like crazy girls.” 

“But not smash a window with a tv and run my car into a tree crazy. You’re more like “Let’s go into that haunted, abandoned building and see if we get shanked by an old homeless guy who needs cash for cocaine.”” 

“You were the one that said there were probably homeless people on crack in that building.” Stu laughed and shook his head. 

“Remember how annoyed Billy was?” 

“I remember showing up to his party late and getting called an idiot for dragging you into that, but it was you the entire time who dragged me into it.” You snickered. With a dramatic gasp, Stu covered his chest. 

“I would never put someone so pretty in danger of getting stabbed by an old man on cocaine.” 

“Well, it wasn’t me.” Stu gave a quiet sigh and shook his head. 

“Alright, fine— it was my fault. I’ll admit it.” 

“I think you’re maturing.” You teased the man who sent you a small, genuine smile. 

“You bring out the better side of me.” 

“That was cheesy.” You said, but you were quick to flush and look down. 

“You know you liked it.” 

“Maybe.” 

“You know, I meant what I said.” Quirking an eyebrow, you met his gaze again. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I really think that… that I’d find you in any life we could ever live in. Even if you lived across the earth. You’re some… god, I sound like a fucking dick-wad right now.” He sighed and shook his head. “You’re someone I think I was meant to be with. You really do bring out a better side of me. You know how you made that joke about romantic tropes in movies where they always end up finding each other because they just meant to be?” You nodded. “I think that could be us.” 

“You really think so?” 

“A guy like me will always need a girl like you. I think I’m lucky I ever met you. And I think I’m even luckier that… you wanted me around. Even if it was just a little bit. You could have chosen Billy. You could have wanted Randy. You could have even been with Sidney or Tatum, but… it’s not them here. And it wasn’t ever them that you looked at like this.” Despite your embarrassment, you sighed and kept eye contact with the man. He was looking at you differently now. Almost as if he was desperate for you to validate that what he was saying was true. 

“I think girls like me need guys like you around. Sometimes I’m too serious. You help lighten the mood. Without you I… well, I forget to think of the little things. Like laughing at myself when I slip in the snow or being able to make a joke about an insecurity. You help keep me lighthearted. I’ve always liked that about you.” 

“You know, if things don’t go well on our date, I don’t want things to be awkward. I don’t want you to not talk to me again thinking it ruined our friendship.” 

“Honestly Stu,” you gave a soft laugh and shook your head as you spoke, “I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever look at you again and not think about you telling me you’d find me in some parallel universe.” He gave an awkward chuckle and finally broke eye contact to look away. “What, are you embarrassed?” You teased, earning a playful eye roll from him. 

“Shove it, would ya?” Laughing, you leaned in and pressed your head against his shoulder. 

“Come on, Stu. Like I could ever forget this.” 

“I almost wish you would.” Gently, you reached up and grasped onto his shirt and held it tight between your fingers. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“So what you’re saying is… that, in a parallel universe, you’d find me, too?” 

“I’d spend my whole life wanting to feel this… content.” He hummed and pressed a kiss to your head before he sighed and laid his head back on the sofa. “I’ve been waiting for this forever.” 

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” With a small smile, you leaned up and quickly pressed a kiss to Stu’s cheek. 

“I think I have an inkling.” 

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[omgkatherine01]

Moments to Memories: Chapter 2 - Valyrian Steel

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Pairing: Daeron Targaryen x Fem! Targaryen reader

Please comment, like and share ❤

You were a bright young girl, and you noticed things very quickly, even before your younger brothers: Jacaerys and Lucerys. While you had been born with the Valyrian silver hair, your brothers all had dark brown locks on their head. You knew the Queen had also taken notice, but while she had been speaking about it openly, your grandsire had dismissed his wife's accusations.

But you weren't as blind as your old grandfather, you knew your brothers had not been sired by your father, Laenor, but it didn't matter because in the end, you were all Blood of the Dragon, and Laenor Velaryon had been your father.

Now, at the age of 13, you were waiting in your family's chamber for the news of your mother giving birth to your third brother.

She was pregnant again after six years, and during the pregnancy, you had been with your mother's side every day, attending her and making sure she was alright. Of course your father was there as well, and your brothers too.

But, you were also worried about what could go wrong during childbirth. You were afraid that your mother won't make it. Like your grandmother, who died in childbirth, and then a few hours your baby uncle died after coming to the world.

You were sitting on the window and sketching the outside with the new sketch book you have received from your uncle Daeron.

The thought of your said uncle made your cheeks heating up slightly, and you tried to blink the thoughts of him away.

"Wow, y/n! That looks amazing!"

You looked up from your sketches when you heard Luke's voice. You smiled at him, relief of the distraction, "Thank you."

"May I have it?" he asked.

You let out a soft chuckle, "Of course. I just have to finish it first. After that, I will give it to you." 

"Yes!" Luke said with a grin as he jumped up and down before running to the carpet where Jace was sitting at.

You saw Ser Harwin Strong approaching the boys and smiled a little. Ser Harwin was the new Lord Commander of the City Watch after your mother's uncle, Prince Daemon, disappeared 13 years ago.

You heard the rumors.

That you could be possibly Daemon's daughter because he and your mother were together one night.

You asked your mother about the rumors before when you first heard them, and without a thought, you even asked your grandfather, and asked if you were a bastard like everyone think about your beloved brothers. He dismissed it, and told you they were nothing but lies. 

But deep down, you thought otherwise.

Was Daemon really my father? 

Your mother never answered you about that question.

Your thoughts were cut short when one of the maids walked in, "Princess y/n, your mother wishes to see you."

"I'll be back soon," you told your brothers. When you received a nod from them, you stepped out of the chambers and spoke quietly to the maid, "Is she alright?"

"It's almost time," the maid informed you.

You walked to your mother's side where she was now laying on the bed and petting her large belly. Your mother smiled at you, and you placed her hand on your mother's belly, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me," she answered.

"How's my little sister doing in there?" you asked with a small smile.

Your mother laughed and petted your soft hair, "You still think it's a girl?"

"I hope so," you admitted, "I want a sister, you know that."

"Yes, I do," your mother said with amusement. Your smile faded away, and she tilted her head and gave you a small smile, "What is it, my love?"

"I'm just worried about you," you muttered. "What if something will go wrong?"

"Nothing will go wrong," your mother assured you, "I promise you that." You looked down, as your mother looked at the few midwives around, "Could you please let me and my daughter some alone time for a few moments?" They nodded and left the room. Your mother nodded to her desk, "Can you open that top drew and give me the wooden box inside, love?"

You did as told and walked back to the bed to sit on it. You handed the box to your mother. She opened the box and pulled out a necklace with a ruby on the pendant. "It's beautiful," you muttered with a small smile as you touched the ruby gently.

Your mother smiled softly, "Yes," she said as she placed the box on the side. "You know what this made of, right?"

"It's made from Valyrian steel," you answered with a nod.

Your mother nodded, "Yes. It was gifted to me." She hesitated for a few seconds as she stared at the necklace. "From your father. Your real one."

You took the necklace when your mother held it out for you, "My father?"

Your mother nodded and gave you a small smile before she answered, "He's my uncle. Daemon."

"So, the rumors were true?" you muttered, "He is my real father."

"Yes," your mother breathed out as if she was relief to get this out of her chest. She looked at your face. "To be honest I never planned on telling you this. I never planned on telling Daemon about you. He disappeared before you were born. Before I even realized I was pregnant. I haven't seen him since I married Laenor."

"And the rumors of me been a bastard like they say about Jace and Luke are--" you stared.

Your mother stepped in, "You are not a bastard. And neither are your brothers. You are a true Targaryen. No matter what anyone says, you listen to me, you and your brothers have Targaryen blood in your veins. Do you understand?" You nodded, and your mother placed her hand on your cheek softly, caressing your soft cheek. "Listen to me, y/n, there's nothing more scarier than a full blood Targaryen. You are one. And you're the next in line to the Iron Throne, after me. It's already been said and done."

You knew your duties as the next Heir to the Iron Throne, and when you were younger, you were afraid of been the next Queen if something would happen to your mother.

You even confessed to your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys of your fear; that you wouldn't be a good Queen. However, Princess Rhaenys assured you that you would be a wonderful Queen, and not to worry about it.

You nodded to your mother and took a shaky soft breath before answering, "I understand."

Your mother nodded and took the necklace, "Turn around." You slowly turned on the bed and pulled your hair to the side as your mother placed the necklace around your neck. "I want you to have this now."

She clipped the necklace and you turned to her again. "Are you sure?" you asked softly.

Your mother smiled softly and nodded as she touched the ruby. "It looks better on you."

You smiled softly as the midwives walked back inside.

A few hours later at your family's chambers, you and your brothers were informed that your mother was going into labor. You wanted to go and see your mother, and be with her during it, but your father convinced you to stay with your brothers and that he will go and see her.

You, along with Jace and Luke, were happy that Ser Harwin had volunteered to watch over the three of you and keep us company while you were all waited for your parents and the new babe. Jace and Luke were playing on the carpet while Ser Harwin and you were sitting on the couch.

After a while, you noticed how your brothers were getting worried since your mother haven't come back yet, so you decided to entertain them with one of your stories. You were kneeling now in front of them on the carpet, and your brothers were listening to the story of Aegon the Conqueror.

Ser Harwin was watching the three of you with a fond smile; he loved to sit with the three of you and watch how you managed so quickly to pick the boys' interest with your stories. It was true that Jace and Luke were his sons and the soon born babe Rhaenyra was giving birth to, but you weren't his.

As you grew up, the rumors about you been Daemon Targaryen's daughter with Rhaenyra continued on. Even so, Ser Harwin was close with you just like with Jace and Luke, and he loved you very much like he loved the boys.

Laenor was the same, he was ignoring the rumors, and he showed the three of his children his love for them.

He didn't care that you, Jace and Luke weren't really his. He was still your father, and you always saw him and called him one.

You and Laenor have a very good and loving father-daughter relationship. Since you were a child, Laenor would often had sneak you out of the castle at night to go on dragon rides at night, he knew that while Rhaenyra would have no problem with this, you loved the idea of doing something that you thought was breaking the rules.

Before you could ride your dragon, you used to ride on your father's dragon with him. When Hellfyre was big enough, you were giving the chance to ride on him. You and Hellfyre would race together with your father and his dragon between King Landing and Driftmark, oftentimes trying to rile Meleys up, when Princess Rhaenys found out what you and her son were doing, she would join you often, which made you and your grandmother get close, to Laenor's happiness. 

However, his mother didn't like Luke and Jace, simply because they were with brown hair and not silver hair like the rest of the family. Despite Laenor asking his mother to spend time with the boys, Princess Rhaenys seem to enjoy spending time with you.

You were loved by her and your grandfathers, Viserys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon. Corlys did however show he also loved the boys and was more than happy to spend the time with them just as much as he like to spend time with you.

As the time passed, one of the maids approached the family's chamber and smiled at you and your brothers, "It's a boy," she informed you, cutting in the stories.

Despite wanting a sister, you smiled at hearing that you had a new baby brother. "Yes!" Jace said with a grin as he jumped up to his feet.

You were telling the boys another story when the door to the chamber was opened and a tired and in pain Princess Rhaenyra slowly shuffled into the room with Ser Laenor walking behind her with the newborn son wrapped up in his arms.

Ser Harwin was the first to stand up, looking upon your mother. He wanted nothing more than to forget the formalities and help ease her pain in any way he could.

You smiled in relief when you saw your mother, and she stood up, "Mother!" 

Jace and Luke quickly looked up at your mother and stood up. "Mother, look," Jace said and the three of you walked toward the warming chamber that held the dragon egg. 

Jace was quick to grasp the handle, wanting to be the one to show off the egg that had been chosen. Luke stood tall beside your brother with you standing behind him, making sure that he didn't try to touch the dragon egg as he had in the dragonpit.

Jace lifted the top of the warming chamber off and the crackling sounds of the coals within fill the room, as well as the unmistakable smell of a dragon.

"We have chosen an egg for the baby," Luke said, looking up at your mother with a toothy smile. Proud to have picked out the egg for your new brother.

Your mother let out a noise of approval and pain as she slowly moved to sit down on the couch, watching the three of you as you fuss over the egg, "That looks like the perfect one," she said as she grabbed Ser Harwin's arm and lowered herself onto the couch. She smiled up toward Ser Harwin and looked back toward her children.

"Y/n and I have let Luke choose this time," Jace proudly told her and Luke excitedly nodded.

"It was from Dreamfyre's newest clutch of eggs, Helaena was happy that we chose one from that clutch," you told them with a smile, quickly grabbing Luke's extended hand that almost touched the egg once again, "No."

Rhaeryna smiled as you held Luke's hands onto his chest, keeping them from going for the egg again, "Tell her we appreciate that."

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragonpit, Princess," Ser Harwin said as he walked towards Ser Laenor, he watched you and Jace hold Luke back from the egg. "I thought it best to escort the children."

"Laenor and I thank you, commander," your mother said gratefully as she tried to position herself in a way that relieves some of the pain she was feeling. Ser Harwin looked towards the babe in Laenor arms, folding his hands together to keep himself from reaching out.

You moved yourself and Luke closer to your father to get a pick at the babe in his arms, from what you could see was that he had dark hair like your brothers and he still had blood on him. Your father looked down towards you as Jace approached too, slowly positioning the babe a little lower so the three of you could get a better look at him.

"He's so cute," you said softly with a smile.

Your father smiled at you, "What a fine knight he is going to make, right y/n?" he asked you, and you nodded in agreement.

"Might I?" Ser Harwin asked your mother, who smiled towards him and nodded.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey," your mother told your father, who stopped rocking the babe in his arms. 

Laenor looked between Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin as the smile fell from his face, "Of course." Laenor moved to hand Joffrey off to Ser Harwin as you looked towards your mother with a confused frown.

"Joffrey isn't a family name," you said and looked back toward your father, "Neither House Velaryon nor House Targaryen has had someone named Joffrey. It's not a Valyrian name."

Your father looked at you, "Well, it's a name of a good friend of mine. The name comes from one of the best knights I have met."

Ooh, you thought sadly. The friend that died. You gave him a soft smile and nodded, "I like that name."

Your father smiled at you and placed a hand on your shoulder, pulling you softly to his side. You turned your attention to Ser Harwin. The sight of Ser Harwin gently rocking the babe was a sweet one. He knew that this was his son as well, that this child had fight and strength within him.

Luke turned to your father, "Father, please may I hold Joffrey?" he asked, but before he got an answer from your father or mother, he reached for the baby, trying to grab him in Harwin's arms. Both you, Jace, your father, and Harwin hold him back from trying to take the babe.

Your father looked between your mother and Harwin and directed you and your brothers toward the door, "No, No, No. Back to the dragonpit for you three. Before they send out a search party."

Once the three of you were in the hallway, your father softly closed the door behind him to give the new parents time to bond with the newborn.

-

Taglist:

@lady-targaryens-world, @minaxcarter, @bitchyunknownuser, @aestmilky

#house of the dragon #hotd imagine #daeron targaryen #daeron targaryen imagine #daeron targaryen x reader #daeron x reader #daeron targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 4

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem reader

Word Count: 5,600

Summary:  It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: This one has a fairly graphic description of something towards the end regarding death. 

Masterlist

Chapter Index

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

The small bookstore looks nothing short of a location where a bomb had been detonated.

It hardly resembles the haven you had run into a little less than an hour ago, dust-covered and shaking, head and body increasingly vulnerable with every second that passed by. When you’d entered the building, numerous bookshelves had been standing throughout the floor space, symmetrically and strategically placed for maximum efficiency and exposure, each one bold and welcoming in the face of new and experienced readers. Rows and rows of colorful books had been placed lovingly on the shelves, every single one of them looking ready and eager for someone to pull it out and bring it home. Displays and racks of reading materials ranging from cook books to self-help guides to religious texts, and it was as if each item was a swift and earnest reminder of New York City’s diverse population and their reading needs and enjoyments.

The small shop had likely belonged to a small business owner, their blood, sweat, and tears shed in its foundation, a testament to their love for the written word and the journeys it could take a person on. 

And it was just…gone.

“Jesus.”

His response is soft. “I know.”

“If you hadn’t pulled us into the bathroom, then we—”

“Let’s not go there, okay?”

Your heart aches as you take in the scene, and your eyes lock onto the lone bookshelf that had somehow endured the chaos. It’s as if it exists solely to offer some sort of twisted and miserable reminder of the way the shop had stood so proudly only minutes before. Books are strewn across the floor, and though some are relatively unharmed, there are others that are burnt with only the spine and a few pages remaining, nothing left but words that have turned into ashes. 

Glass crunches under your shoes as you leave the bathroom and walk slowly into what remains, a soft breeze drifting in from the large hole in the store that had once been wide, clear windows. Heat drifts in, too, the feel of it sweltering, and where it had once been the simple heat of a beautiful spring day, it’s now sticky and bitter and utterly unwelcome. 

Matt walks cautiously ahead of you, hand slowly dropping yours as he makes his way to the front of the store, dark head tilting here and there as if focusing intently on something before deciding to move on. He expertly navigates his way around fallen bookshelves, sidestepping piles of books that have fallen and huddled together, and you follow behind slowly, your feet instinctively taking you through the same path he’s seemingly mapped out for you.

When he reaches the space where the windows had once rested, he stops and situates his body so that he’s angled halfway between you and the street, head once again cocked to the side. He lifts a finger to his lips as if encouraging you to be as quiet as possible, but it’s a hard task to accomplish with the way your heels continue to press into the glass, and each step clinks far too loudly. Your shoe catches on something, and you can’t help the swear word that loudly leaves your mouth as you regain your balance.

Somehow you manage to make your way to his side, cringing as you take in the full view of the street. You don’t have words for the destruction, to be honest. A slowly burning car lies on its side up the block from you, the freshly planted trees and flowers across the street are crumbled and smashed into the sidewalk, buildings are torn apart, gaping holes yawning wide with heaps of glass and brick spilling onto the street. The sight is something you’ve never seen before, and each second you spend staring at it, the further it stains and bleeds into your memory.

You guess you’ve joined the millions of people who have witnessed a New York tragedy. It’s a club you hadn’t ever thought you’d have to join, the kind of club that offers memberships with PTSD as the recurring charge, and it rocks you to your core. 

“This isn’t…this isn’t something we’ll ever heal from.”

Though he only says it in a barely-there whisper, the tone that manages to seep in is solemn and grave. “No. No, it’s not.”

Utterly sick to your stomach, you turn your head to face Matt, needing to see something besides the trauma seeping out onto the road. The cut above his hairline is still bleeding, leaving a small line of red trailing down the side of his forehead, and in this lighting it seems to be more severe than you had maybe thought it was. With a wince, your hand twitches at your side as if you want to wipe it off, but you force yourself to remain still. He had seemed surprised when you’d tried to help earlier, and you don’t want to throw him out of whatever he’s focusing on.

Your eyes shift back to the street reluctantly, and you note that, for some reason, you’ve been instinctively waiting on his go-ahead to begin the arduous journey to the subway station. Opening your mouth, you start to ask him what he’s waiting for, but he interrupts you.

“I think we’re good to go,” he says as his head snaps back towards yours. His mouth is twisted in a grimace, and you can see the glimmer of fear that flashes over a face that’s just as weary and exhausted as yours. “I don’t hear anything nearby.”

You nod immediately, sucking in a deep breath. “Okay. Which way?”

His head swings to the side. “The subway station is a few blocks north and two blocks west, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Matt blows out a loud breath, and you watch as he steels his spine in front of you. “Then we need to go right.”

You don’t question how he knows, instead choosing to gather your strength and wits for a journey that would normally be considered a short walk. But four blocks feels like a marathon away, feels like you’re making the walk between the Shire and Mordor, the trek likely to contain danger and trauma and fire lying in wait at every twist and turn.

The whisper of your name pulls you back to the bookstore, and the tone conveys a softness that is at an extreme clash with everything going on around you. Your head turns so that you’re facing him head on, his body seemingly undaunted and thrumming with an energy you haven’t yet seen on him. It’s almost like he’s taken all the chaos around him and suddenly focused it into something even stronger, something more determined than the things flying around the city like they own it. 

“You ready?” he asks, his voice shockingly calm for someone who is about to leave behind the only semblance of shelter he’s had since this all began. 

It’s your last chance to back out, but you wave it swiftly aside. “Yes.”

His nod is almost curt in its movement, the jerk of his head brusque and determined. Without a single second wasted, he steps over the small wall of brick that had once held up the glass, only a foot or so in height, dress shoes making their way from the carpet of the bookstore to the concrete of the sidewalk easily. He turns back to you before he’s even finished stepping outside, wordlessly offering his hands to you to help you clear the brick as well, fingers grasping yours tightly to help you maintain balance.

Matt lets go of your left hand once you’re settled next to him and swiftly takes a right, pulling you along behind him for a few seconds as if to make sure you’re still by his side, before releasing contact altogether.

You can’t run, not without risking a major fall or sprained ankle, but you trail after him as fast as you can, walking briskly and jogging at random moments to keep up with him. He notices pretty quickly that you’re unable to keep the pace he has set and immediately slows, keeping himself just a few steps ahead of you. He’s somehow able to dip and avoid large pieces of fallen debris that litter the sidewalk, and you once again follow the path he’s all but laid out for you.

His coordination and agility is far beyond what you had anticipated, even far beyond what you would expect from someone who has perfect vision, and you’re left feeling both confused and grateful for his navigation through the wreckage.

There’s a haze that’s settled over the city, one filled with ash and dust that’s been both kicked up from the normally filthy streets and created through the destruction of concrete. You do your best to breathe through it, do your best to see through it, grateful that the lenses of your glasses offer some sort of protection from something getting into your eyes. 

You try your hardest to focus on the mission, focus on the goal of finding shelter, but you can’t help the sheer horror and sadness that hits you whenever you look up long enough to see the level of devastation present. Your heels feel more unstable than ever as you walk, and each step you take is clouded in fear and anxiety, even as you move as swiftly as possible with every ounce of determination you can drag up.

“You with me?”

“Yes,” you quickly reply, fleetingly puzzled, because surely he can hear your heels scraping along the concrete and the way you’d stuttered out the word fuck when a distant crash startled you. It only takes a split second to realize he hadn’t been asking if you were behind him, but rather checking in on you to see how you were doing.

What strikes you, perhaps the most, is how deserted the streets are. Or, at least how deserted these specific blocks are, though, to be fair, you aren't super close to the hole in the sky. It could be a completely different story closer to Stark Tower, which sits a few blocks south and a few blocks east, and you're exceedingly grateful that your little slice of Hell's Kitchen is just far enough away from the main action. But still, even once you turn the corner, there’s no one. You’re not quite sure how it's possible. The island of Manhattan is home to over one million people alone, and the number of people around the city doubles during the work day. It’s a place where people flood into and recede from daily, like some sort of tide that washes up and retreats.

You leave your answer at the yes you had responded with, figuring it’s easier to leave it there rather than explain the way your heart continues to drop with every step you take. You don’t expect to get to the subway station unscathed, there’s too much going on around you, and far too much out there that can cause you harm. 

It’s the city that never sleeps, but even with the crashing and the explosions and the police sirens, it’s never felt more quiet. 

Where the fuck is everyone?

You guess, you hope, that people have found shelter. The opening of whatever portal had appeared over Stark Tower had caused widespread panic, people fleeing for their lives, crashing into and around each other in an effort to get away and get inside. But it doesn’t explain why New York suddenly feels like a ghost town. 

He may not be able to see the streets, but you’re completely positive he can feel the emptiness of them.

You suppose the invasion, if that’s what this should be called (how could one word ever begin to accurately describe the chaos?), had first happened approximately forty five minutes ago, give or take, plenty of time for people to find somewhere to go to wait out the shit storm that’s reigning down. For a quick moment, it makes you suddenly second guess your decision to head towards the subway station when everyone else is staying indoors, and you briefly wonder if Matt is feeling the same way. 

But you don’t know how long this is going to last, and while the bookstore had been a temporary solution, it certainly had not been a sustainable one, and right now the focus needs to be on finding something that could outlast the onslaught for as long as possible. 

The first crosswalk lies not too far ahead, and some part of you slows as you would at any other normal instance, but he keeps moving swiftly, clearly aware that there’s no need to pause for traffic. Cars and vans and trucks have been abandoned and left for fate to decide what will happen to them, many of them already damaged beyond any hope for repair. Most have their driver side doors open, as if the drivers barely had time to exit their vehicles, much less worry about closing the doors. Some vehicles have crashed into others, and you’ll never know if it was purposefully as someone tried to escape, or if cars were thrown into each other from the force of various explosions and blasts.

But all vehicles, or at least the ones you can see, are empty of people. You’re grateful for that, at least, knowing it means that the people on this particular block were able to find relative safety.

It’s a pretty straight shot from one street corner to the one across the intersection, and Matt makes his way across briskly, you hot on his heels, doing your best to keep the pace despite the way your feet are throbbing with each and every step. He’s extremely patient even in the urgency of the moment, somehow knowing every time your foot catches on something, quickly turning around and placing a hand on your arm for balance. 

It happens more often than you care to admit, knowing that each tiny tumble, however miniscule, is delaying the progress to the subway station. 

You’re not too far past the intersection, crossing in front of an alleyway, when he turns abruptly on his heel and pushes you into the gap between the two buildings.

“What–”

But he’s shoving the two of you down behind a giant green dumpster before you can finish your question, and his body twists slightly over yours. You cling to his suit jacket for balance with one hand, and place your wrapped up hand on the brick of the wall for additional support, your quads burning slightly as you hunch over. His form may be covering you slightly, but your face is still turned towards the entrance of the alley, and your eyes are wide as they stare over his shoulder, waiting to see whatever had spooked him. Nothing happens, not for a few seconds at least, and it rattles your nerves, your body already anticipating another round of terror.

Matt abruptly shifts, moving as if to cover you more completely, and it momentarily pulls your attention from the mouth of the alley. But you don’t think his movement succeeds in his goal, largely because your head is still completely exposed, and it certainly doesn’t stop your eyes from suddenly tracking the things that fly past the gap of the buildings, some sixty or so feet above the ground. 

They come out of nowhere, sliding into your vision as quickly as they leave, too far away and too fast for you to get a clear glimpse, but you’re one hundred percent certain that it’s one of the things that had been standing outside of the bookstore when the glass had shattered, stalking down the street looking for people to kill in cold blood, no remorse or empathy for the humans who call Earth home.

“They’re too fast,” he mutters, the sound harsh even in its low volume. “I can’t–I hear them coming, but they get too close way too soon. Not a lot of time to hide.”

“Fucking hell,” you hiss under your breath, twisting your head so that you can see better over Matt’s shoulder. “They’re everywhere.”

Your eyes shift to the face that’s mere inches from yours. “You can hear–? How far away can you hear them from?”

He hesitates for just a brief moment. “Far,” he says before taking a large, shuddering breath. It almost sounds painful, as if his lungs are protesting the sudden intake of oxygen. “But like I said, they’re too fast. I hear them and suddenly they’re right on top of us.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“I…yeah. That about sums it up.”

Matt stands up slowly, bracing his hand against the wall as he reaches up to his full height. You follow the motion, not bothering to cover the quiet groan that escapes you. Your body has been turned and twisted into far too many uncomfortable positions today, and you find yourself internally grumbling about the lack of effort you’ve put into exercise lately. Every muscle in your body hates you right now, and you don’t want to think about how sore you’ll be once the adrenaline has left your system.

“Are they gone?”

Head facing away from you, Matt takes a small step forward, his focus on something you can’t see or hear. You stay where you are, ready to duck back down the dumpster if needed. The ground is filthy, the pieces of trash that hadn’t made it into the dumpster littering the concrete, and you can’t help but allow yourself a moment of disgust. 

“It’s hard to tell” he finally says with a sigh as turns back to face you. His face is hard in its frustration. “They’re–they’re everywhere. Moving too fast to track sometimes, especially with so many of them. I can’t quite…I can’t be completely positive of where they’re at or where they’re going.”

Swallowing, you nod your head as if you understand, but you really don’t. “And you’re–you’re relying on your hearing to tell you where they are? From blocks away?”

“Yes,” he responds simply as he rolls his shoulders. The look he sends your way is as dry as it is nonchalant. “It’s not like I can use my eyes, so…”

You flush. “Right. Stupid question.”

Matt waves it off without much thought and places his hands on his hips. A loud bang sounds off from somewhere in the distance, far too close for your taste, and he flinches at the sound before straightening his shoulders. 

“So,” you say, resting back against the brick wall. Your voice is shaking, just a tiny bit, but the two of you don’t acknowledge it. “I don’t think the coast is ever going to be completely clear.”

He grimaces. “Agreed.”

“And we’re definitely worse off right here than we were at the bookstore. But we’re still a few blocks away. Do you think….? Should we just find somewhere else to go inside?”

“Then we keep heading north,” you confirm with a quick and decisive nod of your head. A bead of sweat trickles down the side of your face and you hastily wipe it away. “But we need to keep sticking to the side of the buildings. The alleys can help hide us if something comes our way.”

Shaking his head, Matt immediately rejects the idea. “There’s too much glass. And everything–everything seems so vulnerable here. They’re crumbling buildings so easily. We're so lucky that the one we were in didn't collapse completely when that thing landed on it. I still...I really think it’s safest to be underground.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably the best we can do right now.”

“Right. Ok. Let’s go.” You pass by Matt and make your way to the front of the alley entrance fully intending on taking a step back out onto the sidewalk, ready for this to be over and dreading every inch you’ll be walking. He walks up quietly behind you and appears at your shoulder, but somehow he must sense your reluctance because he doesn’t exit the alley.

The frown on his lips isn’t as severe as you’ve seen it so far, but it's definitely pronounced. “You’re hesitating.”

You deny the comment with a shake of your head, even though he’s partly correct. “No, I’m ready. It’s just…it’s a ghost town out here,” you remark almost helplessly, motioning towards the empty streets that he can’t see but can surely hear. “I haven’t seen a single person since we entered the book store. Where is everyone? Where did they go?”

Head cocking slightly, Matt’s quiet for a moment before answering a question that had been kind of rhetorical. “There’s people in the surrounding buildings.”

“What?”

“Yes, everyone has run inside at this point, I think.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say more, but he stops himself. Running an aggravated hand through his hair, he sighs and appears to give into what he was about to say. “But I…I think the glass makes them too vulnerable. People are standing too close to the windows, makes them too much of a target.”

“It’s a long story,” he tells you, and you watch as he sort of folds in on himself as if he’s let go of some sort of large secret he’s still not sure he should have revealed. But it only lasts a moment before he’s standing up tall again, head tilted up and mouth set in determination. “And I…I promise to tell you when we get through this. Alright?”

“How do you even know that?”

When. 

There were so many things to live for, so many things to keep fighting for as hell continues to break loose around you, but you’d be lying if you said that the thought of this man sharing something with you hadn’t just become one of them. You have a feeling it’s not something he’s shared with many, and you have the weird inkling that maybe he needs to tell you just as much as you need to hear it, if only to hold on to the thought that there could possibly be life after whatever the hell is going on in the city.

Not if. 

You stare straight at him, taking in the way he’s somehow managed to expose a vulnerability while also demonstrating his strength and determination. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

The smile he sends you is hesitant, clouded by the heaviness of the situation, but it’s there, and it’s beautiful.

“Deal.”

Things continue to boom and shake, sirens continue to blare, but you follow Matt out of the alley way without question, once again allowing him to navigate and lead you through the piles of debris. He stays a few steps ahead of you, black suit jacket covered in dust and tiny tears that must have been a result of the windows that had shattered. His hands are clenched fists at his side, and the haze that has fallen over the city does its best to pull him in, but you refuse to lose and be lost by him.

The sun is still bright up ahead, even through the smoke and the fear, and the sight of it leads you forward, wanting nothing more than to have the opportunity to live and feel it heat your skin on a day that’s not shrouded by terror.

This block is just as eerie, just as desolate, as the one you’ve already walked down, nothing but random empty cars and scorched pavement, likely from the blast of whatever sort of weaponry these things are firing around with little care as to who or what would be in its path. It reminds you of a post-apocalyptic movie, the kind where there’s nothing left to save except the gas from a gas station or non-perishables from a corner store. 

You do your best to stare straight ahead at Matt’s back rather than the disaster that’s been painted around you, but you can’t help but glance up and down, left and right, mind still struggling to link the peaceful Wednesday afternoon to where you are now. You’re in a constraint state of disbelief, some part of you still on that street corner with your iced coffee in your hand, lip curled as you send Brenda’s call to voicemail, nothing on your mind but your painful shoes, unfinished spreadsheets, and the warmth of a sunny spring day.

The loud screech and following crash from a few blocks over pulls you back into your body with a jolt, and it leaves you feeling bitter and broken. Your skin feels itchy with the dust, your feet throb with every step you take, but you’re here, and you’re alive, and you—

Out of the blue, Matt falters. 

He’s not facing you directly, but you can see that his face has lost its color. 

You almost crash straight into him, the speed of your body nearly too fast to avoid running into his back, but you’re able to swerve at the last moment, coming to a stop just slightly ahead of him. He hadn’t tripped on something on the sidewalk, but he had stumbled, his body briefly losing his coordination as his focus shifted elsewhere.  

“Matt?” you immediately question, alarmed at how pale he’s gone. His name leaving your lips is half a started yelp and half a demand for an explanation.

He whips his head toward yours, seemingly startled at your presence, and you take a quick step forward to rest one of your hands on his shoulders. Shuddering, he leans slightly into the contact, face still far too pale for your liking, and you don’t hesitate to take another step into his space.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, lips open and dragging in a panicked breath. “At the next intersection,” he begins, throat bobbing dramatically, and it sounds like he’s forcing the words out. You wince in pain for him, because whatever he’s trying to say doesn’t sound like it’s coming easily. “Not the one we’re about to cross, but the next one…don’t…don’t look left.”

Confusion floods through you, and your eyes can’t help but narrow. “What? Why not?”

Matt’s mouth opens and closes twice before he speaks again, body once again shuddering even as he tries to reel himself back together in front of you. “You shouldn’t–it’s not…” He swallows, and the motion almost looks painful. The sun hits his glasses just right, and from this angle and distance, you can see the eyes that shift and dance over your face and beyond your shoulder rapidly. “Just try not to look left, if you can help it. Okay?”

You frown, unable to stop the expression. “I’ll try.”

And you’re not lying when you tell him you’d try not to look left at the intersection, but in all honestly, you wish you’d tried harder.

The bus is turned over on its side just a quarter of the way down the block when you take your first few steps into the intersection, and its hulking mass out of the corner of your eye catches your attention unconsciously. Before you’ve even thought it through, before Matt’s suggestion has a chance to repeat itself in your head, your head is turning to look at it.

You shouldn't have. 

You really shouldn’t have.

It's definitely not the only vehicle in the street, definitely not the only one that's been completely destroyed by the disaster, but it stands out, for obvious reasons. The whole thing is covered in flame, dark smoke weaving its ways out of the pores left often by the shattered glass of the windows, twisting higher and higher into the sky. A giant hole is torn into it, leaving parts of the metal hanging by mere scraps, the tires sagging even without the weight of the bus riding on them. 

But the worst part is the sight of the bodies burning inside. Broken, shredded, diminishing.

There’s a scream tearing itself out of your throat, the force of it as scalding as the fire that’s burning not half a block from you, and it’s a sound that belongs in horror movies.

Matt is immediately moving in front of where you’re turned, effectively blocking your view. But it’s too late, the damage is done, and the scene is something that will be in the back of your head for the rest of your life.  “I told you not to look left,” he says in your ear, his voice every bit as broken as yours, layered with the same levels of fear and grief as yours. “You shouldn’t have—”

But you’re pushing past him before he finishes speaking, your mind suddenly overwhelmed with the thought that someone could be in there, someone could be alive, someone could need help, and–

It’s primal, this feeling of urgency to get there, this feeling of urgency to pry apart metal if you need to, scalding your hands until they bled if it meant that you could help someone. But it’s also irrational, because even in the back of your head, you’re completely aware that there’s no one who could have possibly survived whatever ball of fire had been thrown at the bus.

The bus had been full of people on their way to work, teenagers skipping school, men and women on their lunch breaks. It had never stood a chance, not when something had locked on to its location and found it to be a suitable destination for its rage and need to destroy. Something that had once been so full of life was now nothing more than a pile of metal, heat, and burning flesh. 

Before you can get more than five steps away, Matt’s pulling you back into him, body once again coming between you and the scene. You try to step around him again, but he blocks you, his own frame shaky and full of horror as he wraps his hands around your upper arms to keep you from moving forward.

It fills you with a sense of panic, his attempt to keep you from helping those poor innocent people, so you struggle in his hold, ripping your body left and right to help loosen his hands. But he’s far stronger than you, and so even while he keeps his hands loose enough as to not cause any pain, his grip is still firm and you’re unable to move more than a few inches in either direction. “Let me go, Matt.” 

“There’s nothing we can do,” he tells you quickly, and the words seem hazy in your mind, as if your head can’t process and believe he’s telling you to walk away. “We need to leave.”

“What? No!  No, there might be people in there, we can’t leave.”

Matt shakes his head rapidly, and the slow, single tear that trails down his face alarms you as it cuts a severe line through the thin layer of dust that has collected on sweat-soaked skin. “There’s not anyone to…there’s no one we can help.”

“How do you know?” you wail, voice high-pitched and panicked, still trying to pull away. “We have to—”

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer into your space, hand dropping one of your arms and instead coming up to rest on your cheek. The other hand soon follows, completely cupping your face between hands that are every bit as nicked and cut as yours. “Hey, look at me.” Your eyes move from the plume of smoke that continues to rise over his shoulder back to his face. “There’s no one to help. I promise.”

“But–”

“I promise,” he repeats slowly, gently, and the words are so full of sadness that you almost need to take a step back. “There’s no one in there that we can save, sweetheart.”

The name doesn’t even register, but the rest of the words do, the clear image of death settling over you, even as gently as they’re said. You bury your head in your hands, the frames of your glasses digging into the skin of your right palm and the tie wrapped around your left, the shock too vicious and blinding even for tears. 

Choking back a dry sob, you squeeze your eyes tightly shut, flinching when the sound of something exploding blocks away reverberates through the city. The sound is startling enough to make you jerk your head out of your hands, and the danger you’re in by simply standing in the middle of the street, nothing hiding you from view and covering your head, sets back in. You take it as some sort of terrifying sign to finally move, nodding your head in a jerky motion and doing your best to compose yourself.

Even so, you can’t help the hiccup that escapes your mouth. “You’re…you’re sure? That there’s no one–”

His head falls forward slightly, his face displaying a sense of devastation that’s no doubt shared by all of the city. “I’m sure.”

Your eyes flutter shut as a shudder of grief wracks your entire body. “Okay,” you whisper in acceptance. It’s a painful acceptance, and a part of you still wants to run to the bus and check for yourself.  “Then we need to–”

“Yes,” he immediately agrees. 

“Okay.” You take a deep breath, one that scalds your lungs as the air moves in and out. You take a shaky step away from him and start walking, suddenly desperate to put as much distance between yourself and the bus that has already imprinted itself harshly in your head, forever scalded into your long term memory. You can’t let yourself stay here, you need to focus on what’s going on ahead of you and keep going, however anguished you feel about it. It wretches at your heart to leave those people so callously behind, knowing they deserve more than someone turning their back on them in their first moments of death. 

But you also know that you need to keep moving if you want to make sure you’re not added to the growing list of casualties, guilty of nothing more than choosing to live in the concrete jungle of New York. There will be a time for mourning, a time to scream and cry and wallow in a misery so large it would swallow you whole, but now is not that time.

And so, with one last look at the twisted kaleidoscope of reds and yellows and oranges bursting up from the overturned vehicle, you finish crossing the street, Matt just a few steps behind you.

#matt murdock #Daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x fem reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fanfiction #battle of new york #tw: death

[dream-phantasm]

Leona Kingscholar x Reader: Love Letters (END)

Y’all, let’s pretend it’s still Feb 14 

this thing has literally been chilling in my drafts since the first part of this series 😭 so, uh, if anything seems off, it’s because I wrote this before I wrote parts 2-6

Hope you enjoy! This entry contains a very small reference to Episode/Book 1

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | END [!]

You enter the library. Your mind was still racing from the possibilities of your…admirer? Ugh, it was still weird to think about! Who could it be!? 

You weren't even here for the books but it would be nice to maybe get some studying done. There was a big exam coming up soon or so you had heard from Riddle. You sigh and get to work, gathering books. 

Plus, Ace and Deuce wouldn't come find you here anyway. You had dropped Grim-sitting duty on them, which in retrospect, wasn't a good idea. If anything did happen, you had no part in that. You'll bail them out of the consequences later.

You'd been here a few times before. After all, you were a complete stranger to this world and the library seemed like the best place to find out more. Since you weren't from this world, you could treat this just like reading the lore of a fictional world. That made things fun for you. 

You made your way to your spot at the back of the library. Nobody usually goes back there so you've laid claim to it as your private reading spot. The books you've compiled completely block your view so you carefully put them down, watching your step. You pull a chair out and you freeze.

The soft sound of breathing and a light inconsistent thumping. You look beyond your pile of books.There lies a slumbering man, head laying on his arms as he's slumped over the table. 

He has messy brown locks, there are two braids framing his face. His unbuttoned shirt and rolled up sleeves gave off the impression he was rather careless with his appearance. You really hated how he appeared to give off that 'I woke up like this' look but still managed to look gorgeous. Most notable of all, of course, were the fuzzy lion ears on top of his head and the furry tail with a tassel of fur at the end. 

You stare silently. Internally, your thoughts are going off like a lightning round.

Who is this guy? Is this a beastman? Should I be scared? Is this a good time to run? Will he wake up? What will I do if he wakes up? Can I even outrun a beastman? If he's not a cat, what is he- 

He shifts. His head leans slightly to the side, off his arms. He does this rather gracefully and now you can see his beautiful features that just scream 'big trouble'. Oh boy, that scar is not helping your heart. You're starting to understand your admirer. It does indeed feel like an oncoming heart attack.

You notice him shivering just a little. Maybe beastmen were simply more sensitive to the cold draft. It is basically Winter after all and you've definitely had it hard living in Ramshackle. You sigh and shrug off your blazer. 

Hoping you don't wake him up, you gently lay it over him. You tense as the tassel at the end of his tail thumps against the chair. His ears twitch and your heart clenches. 

It's adorable, the animal traits. Especially on a handsome guy like that? Well, the gap here was gigantic. Paired with the scar, it gave him a roguish-edge that would make anyone swoon.

Wait a second. A scar? You stop and gasp rather loudly. You quickly slap a hand over your own mouth. His ears twitch and you pray to the great sevens he hasn't woken up. 

It's the grouchy guy from the botanical garden! The last time you had seen him he was threatening to bite your face off or something and you hadn't paid attention to his face. Aha! So you were right, all the attractive people here were the worst. 

His name was Leona, or so you had assumed. That's what Ruggie had called him that day. Ah, stupid! You knock yourself on the head. If only you had recognized him sooner!

You had met him other times before in the botanical garden again. Your conversations were always awkward with him making sly remarks and implications about mauling you. 

Once he was in a better mood though, he made an okay conversational partner. Leona was rather intelligent and sometimes he threw some advice at you when you were doing your homework. Of course, that was because of his weird superiority complex over you. 

You never really paid attention to his face though, the first time he had looked at you was intimidating enough. You never asked for his name either. Your mind must've repressed the details of his face in your head. 

You hadn't gotten the chance to speak to him again since everything just…happened with Heartslabyul. He had completely slipped your mind as you were reeling from the incident. You felt kind of bad. 

You glumly wondered if you could get your blazer back. But then again, you didn't want him to freeze to death. But then again, if you took it from Leona now, you could leave your future nuisance cold. Wait, that was kind of mean. He was kind of friendly and helpful sometimes. 

You wish the guys here weren't so complicated but you had to admit, that was their charm. Yes, they were all jerks. You're starting to think Stockholm syndrome is sinking in. 

With a sigh, you take a seat and open a book. You sneak a glance at the beastman to find he's still sleeping like a rock. Leona's no longer shivering. I just let him have the jacket because I don't want to risk waking him. You reason to yourself. 

You bring your focus back to the book you're currently reading as you try to ignore Leona. Dang it, even when he's not doing anything, he manages to captivate your attention. You huff but keep your eyes on the book. 

What feels like about a few minutes later, you lower the book with a sigh.  "Oh my great-" You try not to scream. 

His lidded emerald eyes bore into you, pinning you still. A tiny amused smile plays at his lips as his . You nearly threw your book at him out of sheer shock.

"You- How long were you awake?" You calm yourself down with deep breaths as you still look at him wide-eyed. "Hm, long enough." Leona makes a low hum, there's still a calm smile on his face.

"That's very specific." You respond. Silence fills the air as you try to hold a staring contest with him. You don't really feel like returning to your book. His green eyes just keep drawing you in. You wonder how deep they go. You might've been imagining it but they were really bright.

"Hm, like what you see?" 

Your face turns red as you groan. You drop your head into the table. "No, stop. This is the worst Valentines day." You grumble. 

"Tell me about it." You hear him reply, you hate how every time he speaks, your heart skips a beat. You're starting to understand your admirer. "Don't patronize me. You're attractive and cool, you got a bunch of confessions or something." You snap. You're just stating the obvious when you call him that. 

"What? There's nothing to be jealous about. Valentines is a day just like any other, where some win and others lose." Leona drawls. "Ugh, yeah. At least there was free food." You mumble, then you remember Ruggie. "Wait no, my food got stolen by that jerk." You scowl.

You're still face down on the table. You notice his tail underneath the table. You watch as it inches closer to you. 

"Did you like the candy hearts?"

You freeze. You didn't…nobody but Ace, Deuce and Grim should've known the contents of that pouch. Of course, the only exception would be the-

You shoot up from, just as you feel the tassel of his tail wrap itself around your ankle and pull. You fall forward onto the table, inches away from hitting the wood. 

"Wow, what the heck was th-" You shout before you look up. You can feel his breath tickle your face but more importantly, those green eyes. The orange vest meant he was a Savanaclaw student if the animal features weren't already a dead giveaway. 

"You…You're Leona Kingscholar, the dorm head of Savanaclaw." You pause. 

"That's right. I would've thought you'd figure this out sooner." He snorts softly. Leona looks at you expectantly to continue.  

"And…"

"And?"

"You're my secret admirer."

You're this close to banging your hand against the table if it turns out you're completely wrong. 

"So, you finally caught me."

You breathe out a giant sigh of relief, leaning back into your seat. "Oh thank the great sevens!" You laugh, wiping tears of joy and relief from the corner of your eyes. You lay back and laugh some more. 

"You're…that overjoyed that your secret admirer was me?" Leona looks incredulously at you. You stop to breathe, you realize how weird this probably looks to him. "Uh, um…" You consider his question carefully. 

You blink at him blankly as you think. He sighs after a moment. "Ahh, I get it. So, it's a rejection." He grumbles. "No, no, i-it's not like that!" You frantically shook your head. 

"I…I accept. You're cool. I want to get to know you better first though? Like, why were you so confident I wouldn't reciprocate?" You raise an eyebrow. To your surprise, a subtle blush somewhat forms on his face as his eyes widened only slightly. 

"I don't know if you're really that dense to not notice. Most people don't like me, herbivore." He growls, tail flailing around lazily. "But, Bucchi seems to like you plenty and those Savanaclaw students cared enough to cover up for you." You frown. 

"That's because I pay Ruggie and those students fear me too much to say anything." Leona snorts. "Hm…I don't think that's true at all." You sigh, 

"You're very intelligent, cool and most of all- You're pretty pretty." You pull a cringe face that immediately gives you secondhand embarrassment…from yourself. Leona seems to think it's dumb because he shoves his hand in your face and pushes you back.

"Ah, okay. I get it." You groan, grabbing his hand off your face. Leona smirks, his fingers intertwining with yours. 

Your face turns red, being around this man would do you no good.

Ao3: HERE If you see it posted anywhere or by anyone else, it's not me.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x mc #leona kingscholar #gender-neutral reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #x reader #love letters #valentines day #fluff #valentines #happy valentine's day

[holicare]

The Secret to Luxurious Locks: The Ultimate Guide to Hair Mask Treatment

Are you tired of dull, lifeless hair? Do you dream of having luscious locks that turn heads wherever you go? Look no further – the solution lies in the power of hair mask treatments. Say goodbye to frizz, dryness, and breakage, and hello to silky, smooth strands that radiate health and vitality.

Why Hair Masks?

Hair masks are like a spa day for your hair. Just as your skin craves hydration and nourishment, so does your hair. Regular use of hair masks can transform even the most damaged and stressed-out strands into a mane of beauty.

The Benefits of Hair Mask Treatments

1. Deep Hydration

Hair masks penetrate deep into the hair shaft, providing intense hydration where it's needed most. Say goodbye to dry, brittle hair and hello to soft, supple locks that are full of life.

2. Repair and Strengthen

Over time, our hair can become damaged from everyday wear and tear, styling tools, and environmental factors. Hair masks contain ingredients that help repair and strengthen the hair, reducing breakage and split ends.

3. Smooth and Shine

Who doesn't want hair that gleams with health and vitality? Hair masks help smooth the hair cuticle, resulting in increased shine and manageability. Say hello to hair that looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial.

How to Use a Hair Mask

Using a hair mask is simple and straightforward. Follow these steps for best results:

Shampoo: Start by washing your hair with a gentle shampoo to remove any dirt, oil, and product buildup.

Apply the Mask: Squeeze out any excess water from your hair and apply the hair mask evenly from roots to ends. Use a wide-tooth comb to ensure even distribution.

Massage and Relax: Take a few moments to massage the mask into your scalp and hair. This not only feels luxurious but also helps stimulate blood flow to the scalp, promoting healthy hair growth.

Time to Soak: Leave the mask on for the recommended time (usually 5-30 minutes, depending on the product). Use this time to relax and unwind – perhaps indulge in a good book or a cup of tea.

Rinse Thoroughly: After the designated time has passed, rinse out the mask thoroughly with lukewarm water. Be sure to remove all traces of the product to prevent buildup.

Condition (Optional): Follow up with a conditioner if desired, although some hair masks are formulated to be used without additional conditioning.

Style as Usual: Once your hair is rinsed and towel-dried, style it as usual. Notice how much softer, smoother, and healthier your hair looks and feels.

Conclusion Incorporating a hair mask treatment into your weekly hair care routine is a simple yet effective way to achieve the beautiful, healthy hair you've always wanted. Whether you're dealing with dryness, damage, or just want to add a touch of luxury to your self-care routine, a hair mask is the perfect solution. Say hello to gorgeous locks that are sure to turn heads wherever you g

#hair mask treatment #Mask #hair mask

[kimpinkpinky]

[Shadows of Honor]

[Chapter 1: The Call to Arms]

In the quaint town of Voronezh, nestled deep within the heart of Russia, the sun dipped behind the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Within the walls of the Voronezh Karate Dojo, a group of dedicated martial artists trained diligently under the watchful eye of Sensei Ivanov.

As the evening descended, Sensei Ivanov gathered his students for a special announcement. "Comrades," he began, his voice echoing through the dojo, "Our dojo has been chosen to represent Russia in the upcoming World Karate Championship in Tokyo."

Excitement rippled through the room as the students exchanged eager glances. Among them, Yuri, a young and determined fighter, clenched his fists in anticipation. "Sensei, we will not disappoint you!" he declared, his voice brimming with determination.

Sensei Ivanov nodded approvingly. "I have faith in each and every one of you," he said. "But remember, victory does not come without sacrifice. We must train harder than ever before if we are to emerge victorious on the world stage."

With renewed determination, the students pledged to give their all in the coming months of rigorous training. Little did they know, their journey was only just beginning...

[Chapter 2: Trials and Tribulations]

Weeks turned into months as the students of the Voronezh Karate Dojo dedicated themselves to their training regimen. Each day brought new challenges and obstacles to overcome, but they faced them with unwavering resolve.

One evening, as the students gathered for their nightly training session, Sensei Ivanov announced a surprise sparring tournament. "This will be a test of your skills and determination," he explained, his gaze piercing through each student.

Yuri felt a surge of nerves coursing through him as he stepped onto the mat, his opponent glaring back at him with fierce determination. With every move, he pushed himself to the limit, drawing upon the months of training he had undergone.

As the final round approached, Yuri found himself face to face with his toughest opponent yet. Sweat glistened on his brow as he squared off against his adversary, their eyes locked in a fierce battle of wills.

With a burst of energy, Yuri launched into a flurry of strikes and kicks, each one landing with precision and power. In the end, it was Yuri who emerged victorious, his hand raised in triumph as the dojo erupted into cheers and applause.

As he caught his breath, Yuri knew that this was only the beginning of his journey to greatness...

[Chapter 3: The Path of the Warrior]

With the sparring tournament behind them, the students of the Voronezh Karate Dojo delved deeper into their training, honing their skills with unwavering dedication. Under the guidance of Sensei Ivanov, they explored the true meaning of karate – not merely as a martial art, but as a way of life.

As Yuri immersed himself in his training, he found himself drawn to the teachings of the ancient samurai warriors. He poured over books and scrolls, studying the principles of honor, discipline, and courage.

One evening, as he practiced alone in the dojo, Yuri was approached by an elderly man with a weathered face and wise eyes. "You possess great potential, young one," the man said, his voice soft yet commanding. "But true mastery comes not from strength alone, but from the indomitable spirit that lies within."

Intrigued by the man's words, Yuri listened intently as he spoke of the trials and tribulations he had faced on his own journey as a warrior. Inspired by his wisdom, Yuri vowed to embrace the path of the warrior with all his heart.

As the days turned into weeks, Yuri delved deeper into his training, pushing himself to new heights of physical and mental endurance. With each passing day, he felt himself growing stronger, more focused, more determined than ever before.

And as he stood beneath the moonlit sky, the echoes of his training reverberating through the night, Yuri knew that he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead on his quest for mastery...

[nosfearatus]

So I've been thinking through the rewrite I had in mind for open heart and I've decided to put it together chapter by chapter. I might make it into some kind of fanfiction later, but for now I just want to get the outline down.

Chapter 1: Of Dolphins and Sharks

You are an emergency medicine intern at Boston's premier teaching hospital, Edenbrook. The emergency thorectomy occurs as in the original but when the nurses dreamily sigh over Ethan Ramsey, MC asks if that name's supposed to mean something to them, which starts off the running joke of people asking if MC practiced medicine in the woods, which, no, MC just doesn't care to keep up with these doctors outside of any research they've done. MC heads to get changed and encounters Bryce, a neurosurgical intern, and Jackie, an infectious disease intern, mostly sticking to the original, and they all head to the atrium together for orientation. MC is unfamiliar with Harper Emery, but Bryce mentions one of her more famous contributions to a medical journal and MC recognizes her by that.

Then MC meets their senior resident, Zaid Mirani, he's a bit of a jerk but it's easy to read that he genuinely cares about his interns. Throughout the day MC also meets several other doctors when helping emergency patients settle into other wings of the hospital. Sienna is the intern responsible for a kid in the pediatrics wing that MC helped reduce a fracture on and MC immediately notices how kind and warm Sienna is. Elijah is an oncology intern that MC meets when the two of them get lost and are both conveniently looking for the same cancer patient, who is typically an outpatient but was admitted after getting violently ill at work and was brought into the emergency room by handsome and kind paramedic Rafael Aveiro. Landry is a pathology intern who MC meets when running some blood samples from a patient to the lab and he mentions how he looks up to Ethan Ramsey, while MC offhandedly mentions that maybe meeting your heroes isn't a good thing, Ramsey enters the lab and acknowledges MC but not Landry, a fact that awes Landry and makes MC uncomfortable.

The gem scene in chapter 1 is a 15 gem scene where you can just hang out with your new friend group in the cafeteria at lunch and get to know each of them better and learn why they became doctors. You also realize that you guys are really good as friends and decide to move in together, this unlocks the penthouse apartment because you guys jump on it ASAP. It's sweet and friendly while also providing the premium housing without having to resort to underhanded tactics or selling your friend's services. Immediately after lunch MC is getting some menial filing done when the ER is suddenly thrown into pandemonium as a scuffle erupts. Chapter ends.

#playchoices #open heart au/rewrite #i guess if i want rafael to be a more central part of the plot i have to write it myself. #thats all i want and still pixelberry disappoints #also this is gonna rely heavily on knowledge gained from untold stories of the er and similar shows #i just think it would make good drama #also it wont rely on mc having revelations from nothing all the time. it will still happen. just not constantly. #instead of the trevor arc in book 2 i was thinking instead making an arc based on the gloria ramirez case #but anyways the short of it is is that your lis are jackie bryce rafael and zaid #most li scenes will be choose what you do between the four lis or what li do you see? except for eight total diamond scenes #these can easily also be platonic and there will be two for each li #at the end of book 1 you soft lock your li #aurora and kyra arent introduced in book 1 but are introduced in book 2 as potential lis #aurora was at mass kenmore to try and evade her aunts shadow and kyra had been an outpatient before her cancer took a turn for the worse

[achillieus]

we’re fools. (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, angst, too much tension, bucky and reader are stupid and in  denial, sexual tension all around the place

tagging: @tonystankschild​

(other parts)  (masterlist)

part 2/3:

And then it’s the last week of February and you have an assignment together, you and Bucky, the boy with black hair and a mind that you’re certain is not as clever as he insists it is. You know this cannot possibly end well. You feel it when he sits beside you and his knee brushes past your leg. You feel it when you take a breath and smell his aftershave. Sandalwood and vanilla. It makes you want to lick your lips. Please, get a grip. You try to get away, even propose to write the whole thing alone so you wouldn’t have to spend any time around him. In your mind, you call it self defense. But Bucky’s boastful and you can see him pumping the muscles in his neck, trying to intimidate you.

“My dorm, tomorrow at 7,” he says “Don’t be late.”

-

(your late night instagram search history)

(00:38 AM) #literaturememes

(01:15 AM) @buckybrns

(01:30 AM) #newgirl

(01:50 AM) @buckybrns

(02:10 AM) @buckybrns

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when he’s not around.

-

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that everyone, boys and girls, adore him alike. He’s charming, he’s crafty, he’s brilliant. He’s everything they want him to be and even more. It nearly condones his megalomania.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s aware he has an audience. Always plans his moves, knows how to play his character perfectly. He wears dark designer jeans and plain Henley shirts, buttons open, fabric tight around his biceps. Sometimes even a black leather jacket and a tag necklace. Girls are intrigued by the bad-boy, straight A student contrast, while the boys are envious enough keep him close and invite him to all of their parties. Bucky gives them whatever they need.

The thing about Bucky Barnes is that he’s utterly lonely. He has never said so, but it’s the truest thing about him. He has Sam. But for how long? Bucky’s used to people going away. It has been imprinted on him. His best friend, Steve, left with his girlfriend in an exchange program last month and Natasha, the one girl he ever came close to loving, just started dating Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. What a downgrade.

And then there’s you, sitting at the end of his bed, playing with the ring in your finger, reading some neatly written lecture notes. Usually, Bucky would think about 129 cheeky comments he could make to a girl in his room. But not to you. Are you sure, Bucky? He has grown accustomed to disliking you. It’s the one constant he has left and he’s not planning on losing it.

He leans down and takes the place next to you, a bottle of beer dangling loosely in his hand.

He offers and you decline.

“We need to concentrate on the project.”  

“You’re the biggest killjoy.” Bucky says with a hint of a smirk.

“I’m studying, Bucky.” He can see your left hand holding that dark green pen in a tight grip and your eyes trying to focus everywhere but on his face. He can see your hair glistening in the warm afternoon light that comes from his window. He can see the soft red blush on your cheeks and the beauty mark on your neck. What a tricky thing it is to see. And to feel. And to want.

Is that what dislike tastes like, Bucky?

-

He talks a lot, that’s the first thing you notice. He says all sorts of things, most of them having nothing to do with your project. You’re certain it’s because he’s feeling as uncomfortable and agitated as you. But still, it’s annoying as hell.

“Listen,” you say and turn to his side “I’m not going to fail this class just because you have the attention span of a two year old.”

A laugh escapes his lips and you watch, completely in awe, the way little wrinkles form around his eyes and his nose scrunches. Right now, he looks tender and warm. No, he doesn’t.

“I think we’re both pretty smart,” Bucky says nonchalant and wets his lower lip with his tongue, before he adds, “We’ve got this, so relax doll.”

There are rules, things that are solid, de facto.

Example 1: Bucky never praises you. At least not out loud.

Example 1: Not valid anymore.

Example 2: Bucky uses the word “doll” approximately ten times a day. To other girls. The girls he likes. Not to you.

That’s actually wrong, he called you doll the first time you met. That doesn’t count. He didn’t know you then.

Example 2: Not valid anymore.

It feels foreign. Pleasant and beguiling, but foreign.

“You always call girls “doll”. What is this?” You ask and he looks up. “Is it like your thing, your flirt move?”

Bucky meets your gaze, his forehead creased, and holds it for some seconds before he laughs again. Is this amusing him?

“No, I’m serious.” You bite your lip. “You even did it to me when we first met.”

“I did?”

Of course he doesn’t remember, what did you expect?

“Yeah, when you helped me find the admission office.”

“And you remember that, an entire year later?” He raises his eyebrows, looking entertained and partly interested.

Your mind empties and for some time you feel out of place, embarrassed. But you’re quick to recollect yourself. You can’t let him get you.

“It was my first day as a college student, I remember all of it.”

Liar. You don’t even remember who you sat next to.

Bucky smirks a little too long for your liking and then he leans in, his body bending in a way that makes you forget to breath. He’s so close and you only see blue, a rare kind of blue between the depths of the ocean and the brightest shade of the sky at noon. This would be so much easier if he wasn’t that handsome. Handsome and indomitable. What an awful combination.

“Interesting.” He whispers and lies back, touching the wall.

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and clear your throat.

“I should go, it’s obvious we’re not making any progress.” You pick your books and stand up. “Sometimes I wonder how you get all those perfect grades, you clearly-” You merely finish your sentence before he grabs your arm and swiftly, he has you pressed against his wooden bookcase. You don’t have time to blink.

What’s happening? He was sitting down a second ago.

“That day,” he says while his thumb draws circles on your wrist. “You were wearing a denim dress and some Saturn shaped earrings. And you were holding a cherry juice box.”

It’s utterly terrifying how your emotions toss and turn the moment you realize what he’s talking about and the fragile muscles of your heart ache because Bucky cares. Bucky remembers.

“It wasn’t my first day of college, but I remember.”

You want to throw up. Or kiss him. You’re not sure. You know you hate Bucky. Do you? You’ve taught yourself to. And it was never supposed to change. It shouldn’t have to.  

You part your lips to say something, anything, but he shakes his head and steps back.

“You should go.”

And you do. And you’ll never tell him, but you’ll always regret not kissing him then. You’re sure now.

-

your inbox, the next morning

(10:25 AM) from [email protected]

              I’m sending you our assignment. You only need to add a few things and it’s done. If anything else comes up, it’s better we work on our own.

-

For Bucky, it all came crashing down the moment he first saw you. It was all over the moment his eyes met yours. A gourmand perfume lingered in the air around you that day and it stained his pores. And it’s been with him since then. Clinging onto his flesh.

It’s partly obsessive and partly romantic and Bucky tries to keep it locked inside. He thinks he can make it go away easily, the way he flicks a crumb off his expensive cashmere scarf. He thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it’ll be less true. That’s not how things work, Bucky.

Yeah, he’s starting to notice.

And he’s trying so hard to hate you. The problem is, he doesn’t think he can.

(his late night instagram search history)

(00:45 AM) #tomfordperfumes

(01:30 AM) @y/n

(01:50 AM) #funnycats

(02:15 AM) @y/n

(03:45 AM) @y/n

-

You make it your mission to avoid him and it’s going well until the fifth of March. You spot him at Sam Wilson’s party. You should have known he’d be here, they’re friends. There’s a thick cloud of cigarette smoke all around, but still, you can perfectly see him. He’s standing alone, his skin changing colors under the neon lights, a plastic cup in his hand, eyes crystal blue and swollen and fixated on you.

The room is small and everything feels known but unfamiliar at the same time; the atmosphere, his gaze, the lump on your throat.

They’re suffocating you, the looks you give each other.

-

“Buck, what do you want?” Sam asks, holding both vodka and gin and he observes the way Bucky merely turns his head to look at him.

What do you want Bucky?

Not to play a role anymore. For Steve to be back. Maybe, Natasha. No, he hasn’t thought about her in a month. Perhaps a Pulitzer Prize. Definitely a new pair of sunglasses. But there is one more answer he has behind his teeth.

Y/N, he almost says. Always.

“Vodka.”

-

He leaves before midnight and you can’t remember where the urge came from, yet you’re following him. You know he has noticed. But he just keeps walking until he reaches the door of his dorm and presses his back against it. He sees you and you see him and his eyes cut your heart open.

“Your place is on the other side of the building.”

“I know,” you mumble, “I just never got to say good job on the assignment and I wanted to.” You are unable to meet his eyes. You sound pitiful and you want to hit a wall; with your head.

Why the hell did you follow him here?

Because sometimes you do stupid things.

Bucky mockingly opens his mouth, as if shocked. It almost makes you groan.

“Did Miss high and mighty just comment something nice about me?”

“Why do you have to contradict everything I say?”

He shakes his head and you can feel your heart beat loud and irregular and it’s not because you’re mad. It’s because he’s coming closer, almost chest to chest now. And it’s because you can swear, he just glanced at your lips.

“Someone has to, you can’t act like you know everything all the time.”  

“I don’t do that, you don’t know a thing about me Bucky.”

“Oh, but I do. You’re Y/N, you like plaid skirts and Homer and dark green pens. You expect everyone to be perfect. You expect yourself to be perfect. And you always want to do the right thing.”

His pupils are dilated. Yours must be too. Bucky Barnes is dangerous and fatal. He makes your blood coil and your mouth dry. And there’s a tension, almost pain, almost agony, deep in your lungs and it burns. And you don’t know who leaned in first, probably you because Bucky isn’t that brave yet, but suddenly your hands are everywhere. Your fingers blending in his hair, his digging in the skin on the back of your neck. He’s bringing you closer and it’s a mess and all you can hear is the beating of your heart; a rapid vibration between your ears. It’s pure and raw and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

He tastes like ambrosia and a year-old despair and you think you can go on forever. You eventually break apart because you both need to breath and for a second you worry because he looks like he’s ready to cry, but instead he smiles, softly touching your cheek.

“Did I do the right thing?” You whisper.

...

feedback is so appreciated and motivates me tons, thank you :)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #college au #bucky barnes imagine #au!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #alternate universe #alternate universe bucky #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #fools

[jawllines]

“You’re really gonna go in there?” Y/N queries gently, and Harry only nods his head in response, reaching for the door handle. An urgent, delicate touch of Y/N’s hand startles him, looping around his wrist and dragging his attention toward her, “Shouldn’t we have a game plan if something is behind the door?” She asks, her hold on him tightening just a little, and Harry notes how soft her palm feels against his skin, “Like, let’s say we open the door and a behemoth is standing there, what do we do?”

“The only behemoth that could fit in this tiny room is the band from Poland, Babe, and I reckon they have better things to do on a Thursday night,” he retorts, clenching around the knob and tilting it down, “Now unless you want to hold hands in there. . .”

She lets go before he can finish, and he doesn’t have to look back at her face to know she’s irate. A small smile quirks at his mouth as he pushes his shoulder against the heavy door to aid him opening it, bracing himself to see something potentially horrid. . .

And there’s nothing.

or

Harry and Y/N are witches, they hate each other, and something’s coming

19K+ words

(A/N: Hiii!! So, I’ll be honest I know absolutely nothing about real witches at all, so what is in this story is not fact! it’s just an AU and doesn’t speak toward any of my real witches out there unless i accidentally got some things right. Happy reading, I really liked writing these guys I hope you like them just as much!!)

i.

It was dark. 

Both in the state of the sky and the feeling that slithered through Y/N’s body while she tended to the Brugmansia finally flowering in her garden. The shift in the air could have easily been inculpated by the cool breeze that blew past her face, shepherding clouds thick and heavy with autumn rain, but Y/N knew better than that. Those feelings typically bring her peace; the rattle of thunder soothes her aching bones while fat drops paint the pavement, wet the dirt to mud, and feed the drying grass.

This feeling made her bones rattle. It crawled beneath her skin like billions of tiny beetles unearthed within her vessels; her stomach churned, her shoulders were weighed down, there was a gnawing pain at her temples, so fierce she held her hand to them. The cold brass of her ring cools her heated skin. This feeling was vile, it was awful, for fuck sake what was causing it? 

She stood from her crouched position and slid back into her store. Technically, she’d closed about three hours prior so she should have been home well by now, but when she’d finally gathered her things in her duffle at 12, she looked out the back window and noticed some of her moonflowers had begun to bloom. There was a small part of her that had been reluctant to step outside at all, but she needed to greet them and water them, no matter the odd, unfamiliar troubling sense that had initially confused her. She ignored it -- she thought maybe she was just nervous to say hi to them, sometimes she was. 

(Flowers and plants hold a special connection with their caretaker, from a tiny seed to a flourishing garden, they place their lives in the care of the earth or a human. If not properly nursed, their wilted petals appear so quickly, a silent plea for water, or sun, or even a little attention -- Y/N found that plants liked a little attention. That’s why she spoke to them, she cooed and gave them well-wishes when she left them alone. They felt just a part of her family as any blood relative had, from the moment she had sliced the tip of her finger in a torn brush and the petal she’d touched afterward fused together her tiny wound. Her nan had always told her that maybe she was a bit closer to plants than others were, so she probably shouldn’t share this with kids in her class because they might be jealous of her (Y/N knows now her nan just didn’t want her getting picked on.) 

It was clear to her now that this feeling was a bit more than that when her goose pimples sunk back into her skin after stepping into the warmth of her store. Though it was not just because she had been keeping her shop pleasantly warm as the nights grow colder and longer; she kept herself protected in here. In between these walls lied a sanctitude that kept all evil out, in all manners, of all species, besides two. 

One of which is her bunny, Thumper, who in all ways but emotionally was her familiar. He was a ghostly white Holland lop, with big dopey ears that she slid her fingers beneath and flipped up and down in spare moments. She accuses him of being evil because he’s always nipping at her fingertips, demanding food with a stomp of his foot, and gives the silent threat that he’ll nibble on her plants if she really pisses him off (he stands by them, twitches his little nose and shows his two front teeth until she gives him what he wants -- it’s usually more hay). He’s nothing but a little, greedy nuisance that showed up on her step one day and hadn’t left since.

The other. . .well, the other was Harry Styles. 

Y/N liked most witches, no matter their point of interest. She knew that there could be a certain level of distrust amongst the syndicate -- hexes, and curses placed upon one another, but she tried to stay out of that -- she held no disfavor toward most of the others either. Everyone connected with things very differently, what she may connect with might not be that of what her neighbor connected with and that was okay. Her nan’s emotions had been in accord with the sea, and even though Y/N spent most of her life fearing water, she bore no judgment. 

What she does is done in the mind of good favor, of bettering oneself with the world around them in a way that would beneficial to not only them but the people in their lives. Open up otherwise closed eyes to the beauty of the spirit and soul they possess, and the beauty and soul that the world around them held. The town she had moved to at 20 was so rich in natural beauty, ponderosa pine and hemlock trees grew tall in an extensive, juniper green forest almost always clouded with thick fog, the soil was soft and fertile, the air was crisp and clean. She felt happy here and wanted the others around her to recognize how lucky they were to be in an area so free of sordidity. 

There was an empty shop up the brick road of the older part of town, that had been crowded in cobwebs, leaves that had blown in from the broken window, and animal droppings. Her nan came to help her clean it up (her mum had too, but she was dog tired after her workweek so spent most of the visit asleep on Y/N’s couch), and did something short of absolving the land so that she could grow a garden behind the store, in the clearing of 200 or so meters before it meets the mouth of the forest. She sold herbs, people came to her for intricate, meaningful bouquets with flowers that could not be found in just any store (and she was good to her plants, so if she asked very kindly, and sent them with a packet that produced a very special brew when dumped in the water, they would live very, very, suspiciously long), plants that would liberate people of their aches and pains so long as they tended to them, journals of reused paper, scrubs, oils. . .there were many things. She offered classes too, to help people learn how to better cater to their flowers.

That had been a year ago, so she was still finding her footing, but not six months into this happy reality she had created for herself, Harry Styles had come to town. It took nothing but a few minutes of coming to contact with him that he was a bad apple, and when the once sweet-tempered town had begun mottling with dark splotches, she knew for sure. Harry was like her, but his book of shadows had pages filled with wicked words of revenge, conjuring demons and letting them wreak havoc. His business was more under the cuff -- he posed as a writer who needed a scenery change for his work, but Y/N knew it had to be more than that -- but he did his bidding in the night, seeding through clubs, in alleyways, in the forest. . .if someone knew about Harry, it was because they knew a guy who knows a guy. 

And for some reason, unbeknownst to her, he refused to leave her be. 

This is why it almost makes sense that the bell of her store would jingle brightly no matter the fact she’d locked the doors hours ago, and her attention would be brought to the pest himself. He wore a sweater that threatened to swallow him whole, and baggy, holey jeans he rolled at the cuff showing off his bat printed socks, stuffed into grandpa-Esque loafers. The necklace he always wears around his neck (a small pendant that she had never gotten close enough to make out) is sat atop of his sweater today rather than hidden beneath it as it usually is. His hair is getting longer, more unruly with his warm brown curls than it had been when she first met him -- she really hadn’t known he’d had curly hair until the more recent months when it had started growing out. 

His eyes were always the same soft, crystal green that matched his character none, and a pawky smirk on his mouth as he dragged his fingers along the lavender jars placed on her shelves, “Shouldn’t you be home by now? I figure it’s past your bedtime.” He leans down like he is about to pick something up, and when Y/N peers over the counter, she sees him slide his hand beneath Thumper’s soft white belly and pull him up to his chest. That was another indicator that Harry was just no good -- he was the only human that he liked, and the little creatine didn’t even like her. 

“Shouldn’t you?” She flips it, continuing to gather her things so she could head home for the night.

“You know these are my typical hours, Babe -- everyone wants to curse someone at 1 AM, there was a study done in the east end.” He pets between Thumper’s ears as he sets him down on the counter beside the cash register, before he reaches out for the wooden crafted incense burners, “Have these cheap little things been selling any?” 

“Piss off,” she stuffs her phone into her purse, then flips through her things to make sure her wallet was tucked in there as well, “What do you want, Harry? I’m about to go home, if you wanted to come around to bother me you should have hours ago.”

Harry feigns a gasp like he does any time she curses, “Thought good little witches didn’t have such foul tongues?” He flicks the candle jar on her counter, an apple scent had been melting around the wick for the better half of the day, “I don’t want anything in particular, just passing through. You know you’re right in the way of the forest, don’t you? S’kinda of obnoxious when you’re trying to summon imps at the cave -- they hate the bloody “stench” of the flowers.” 

“Good,” she retorts, “You shouldn’t be summoning around here anyway, this area’s off-limits.”

It was barely an agreement but still an agreement nonetheless -- if Harry left her be, she would leave him be because Y/N wasn’t an idiot. If he wanted a fight, Harry could start one and he would fight dirty. All she asks him is to stay away from her store and her flat, and to keep away from certain areas of the forest where the soil was always soft -- in return, he would do his activities, sometimes he would need her flowers for different spells and she would turn a blind eye to what he was doing. She does a few gentle protection spells here and there but otherwise, he’s a free man to do as he pleases, just so long as he respects her request. He’d seemed perturbed by the conditions none -- had even chuckled and said as long as he let her keep her “pretty little flowers” he could get away with murder. 

A heavy, weary sigh leaves him, “Yes, I’m well aware,” he rolled his eyes before crossing his arms on top of the counter and tucking his face in his elbow,  “Gimme a moment though, it’s warm in here and I was freezing outside.” He muffles into his sweater. 

Y/N had almost forgotten what she had felt prior to coming back inside, but his words bring it clearly to the forefront of her mind once more. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, hearing the floorboards creak beneath her as she wondered if he’d felt it too. It couldn’t have been him -- no, he was powerful but by no means powerful enough to conjure up something like that. And she’d like to ask him, but Harry has never been someone who took her seriously -- he would just make a joke of it, probably, or tease her. It wouldn’t be worth asking. 

But the feeling that she’d gotten is chewing on her memory, so she asks anyway, “Hey,” she began and the only indication that he was listening to her is the fact his fingers stopped tapping against the wood beneath them, “Did you. . .when you were outside, did you feel that?” 

He picks his head up from the crevice of his arm, “You’re gonna have to be a bit more descriptive than ‘that’,” his brows are raised as he continues, “Are you talking about the new pleasant but cold breeze we’ve gained for autumn, or the gut-twisting odious one?” 

Y/N looks at him impassively, “The latter, idiot.” 

“Yeah, I felt it,” he ignores her insult, “What about it?” 

The skin between her brows pinches, “Are you not concerned? It felt. . .bad,” she couldn’t think of a better word to describe it, “I didn’t like it at all.” 

“Are you scared?” There is delight swimming in Harry’s gaze as he stands up straighter, “Don’t tell me Glinda the Good Witch herself is scared of a little frightening feeling? I thought you were tough as nails and all that, hm?” 

“Never mind, forget I even brought it up,” she tried to dismiss it, as she slings her purse over her shoulder and plucks Thumper up to sit him in the cradle of her arms -- she knew better than to ask him like she might get any comfort at all from his words. 

He steps up and in front of her before she could start toward the door, “Oi, listen scaredy-cat, I don’t know if you’re aware but I deal with shite like this all the time, which means I’ve got a few banishments spells up my sleeve. If it’s really something that awful, I’ll cast it back to hell, easy as that.” Harry follows close behind her as she exits the door, feeling the same shiver of fear slither through her body, “I do want to see what it wants first though.” 

“Of course you do,” she utters in disappointment, “Just keep it away from my garden, please.” 

“I’ll try,” he tells her just as she reaches her car before he dips into his pocket and reveals that he’d stolen a baggy of chamomile, “If I didn’t keep your precious garden safe, then I wouldn’t have anywhere to get enchanted chamomile, and it works lovely in a sleepy time tea, I’ll tell you that -- your lavender is shit though. Never puts me to sleep like it ought to.” 

She pops open her car door, “Stop taking stuff from the store, or I’ll start lacing it with laxatives.” 

“While you’re doing that, won’t you plant them Clathrus mushrooms? I reckon the imps would prefer them way more than the mums.” He looks serious -- not a trace of a joke laced in his features and somehow that leaves Y/N more irritated than if he were laughing at her as he spoke. 

Her response is blunt, “No.” 

“Listen --”

“Harry, I’m not going to plant mushrooms for the damn imps!” 

                                                         .                             .                          .

When Y/N had met Harry, she was angry. 

She had never been a very angry person. Seldom has someone or something truly has gotten so deeply beneath her skin that she felt the need to yell or grump about it -- mild irritation was never off the table, but true, unadulterated wrath and resentment? It was rare she ever felt the need to even make a snide comment. And that wasn’t to say she was better than anyone else, she was just mild-tempered and forbearing. . .it took a little more than a remark or two to make her angry.

But when she was angry, she was an amalgamation of vexation and fire, and there was no surer way to disrupt her peaceful demeanor than to compromise her flowers. 

The day had been uneventful up to that point. It’d been a week since Harry had moved into town and Y/N was surely feeling the negativity that followed in his wake, but she was focusing on maintaining the tranquil, idyllic environment that she had around her previous. As much as she would have loved to seek him out, ready to squabble, tell him off for bringing any dark energy into such a calm place -- she had to come at it pragmatically. She and her friend Niall (who wasn’t a witch but knew about her) had both agreed that while it was aggravating, they didn’t know him. They did not understand the depth of his power, or what he was here for, nor had they understood wholly what he was capable of. Y/N had felt his presence, but Niall had confirmed it after hearing the underground chatter of a dark witch who made promises to turn glitter to gold. 

She was on her way to her store. Though she was closed on weekends, she always went by to check on the flowers, water them, tell them about her day, and with her was Thumper who would be hopping around the grassy field and gnawing on the blades. It was very peaceful -- the time she spent with her plants -- so she always looked forward to it, but that day she was filled with trepidation as she parked her car. Something was off. . .not in the air, but with her flowers -- she could feel it deep in her marrow that they were in pain. 

So she huffed it to the back of the store, and there she found Harry, two of her purple vervains nestled against his palm. He noticed her before she could even think to say anything, and something short of relief had flushed through him, “Oh thank fuck, you’re here,” he sighs, referencing her garden with a wave of his hands, “I cannot for the life of me remember what hazel looks like.” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N demanded, stomping toward him, but instead of shoving him to the ground like she wanted to, she dropped to her knees and caressed the remaining vervain, “Why would you pluck them like that? They aren’t ready!” 

“Ready? They’ve flowered haven’t they?” His brows had been tilted while his mouth dipped in a frown, “I need them for an incantation, figured you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed these two. Aren’t we meant to help each other out?”

 “You should have asked, you prick,” she pointed up at him, “And even if you had, I would have said no. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re really disturbing an otherwise pleasant place. I wish you would leave.’ 

Harry feigned hurt, placing a hand to his chest, “You wound me,” he mocks her, “Listen Glinda Good Witch, we all gotta get by somehow, yeah? Not all of us talk to plants or whatever it is you do. So do you want me to pay or --” 

“Those won’t work for whatever it is you’re trying to do,” she cut him off, “If it’s something with cruel intent, it won’t happen -- they were grown to do good.” 

“Which is exactly why I needed them from you,” he wiggles them in her direction, “Well, I need to get going. You’re awful in particular about a garden that is subpar at best. Wish you well, see you later.” 

Then he left. No guilt, no apology -- he just up and left, and Y/N was livid. 

(Later that night when she had explained the situation to Niall, he was nothing short of outraged, so they had tried to find out more about Harry. Anything about him, really, but he leaves a very little paper trail in his endeavors -- from public records they find that he’s 25 and from Holmes Chapel, and from a google search they find he has two books out, published online, and doing decently well. There was nothing else apart from that, he kept his socials pretty dry, and what he did post was nonsensical drivel.)

Y/N thinks about this, as she sinks into her tub, the burning water scalding against her skin. Harry had always driven her mad but he has never seemed half as angry as she was -- hell if anything he always seemed like he enjoyed it. 

He was just absolutely rotten. 

                                                           .                                  .                           .

Harry thinks Y/N is just absolutely rotten. 

There were many reasons that he had classified her as such, but namely what he was concerned about now was how she kept her shop closed on the weekends. 

Who kept their store closed the entire bloody weekend?

It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see her -- Harry actually found the girl quite plaguy. Her opinions on his practice were priggish, not unlike the others like them he had met in the past. There has always been an unfaltering stigma that was carried with what he did, one that was quite hard to shake within the factions of other witches that are sprinkled across the world. He’s seen as careless, cruel, greedy, and selfish -- he doesn’t practice magic for the love of the world around him, to feel a deeper, spiritual connection with the fecund soil that covered the earth, or with the water gently slipping past rocks along a stream bank. They look at him and see someone who shakes hands with the devil and ruins lives for a cookie. 

Harry lets them think as they wish, he has no patience to attempt correcting them. If they’d bothered to learn an inch about him at all before passing their judgment then they would have a clue about his true character, but the jury had already made the decision before Harry even realized he was on trial. They never really wanted to give Harry a chance, so he knew he would be hated no matter where he decided to reside. The pack mentality that they carry is the reason he has to move around so often though (more than any 25 years old was typically doing) he gets run out of a lot of areas because a group of soft witches decides he’s no good. 

That’s what drew him to this place -- there was practically nobody. He could sense when there were more like him loitering around an area, and made an effort to keep a decently low profile so that he could stay around longer (but they always managed to find him), but here, he only sensed one. That had been good enough for him to know this was the right move -- the beautiful scenery surrounding them; the soft bed of dirt that Harry’s feet would sink into easily; the dense, damp fog that covered the forest floor in the early mornings; the lush, green trees and how life seemed to remain there when it was meant to be waning in the colder months -- all of that, had only been a plus. 

When he’d met Y/N, he knew that she disliked him, but Harry had expected as much so it disturbed him none. If anything, he was delighted to have a purer witch than himself around, all things considered. There were no others that she could develop a hive mind with to drive him out of town, but she was no competition to the businesses that he provided, and when a decoction called for an obscure plant or an unsullied petal -- well, a Garden witch was not the worst kind to have nearby. She may be devout in her notions that Harry was a disagreeable, repugnant being, but she was good at what she did. Anything done with her plants was twice as effective as any other person’s flowers he’d used in the past, so it was necessary he bothered her often. 

She refused to sell to him -- something about her doing business with a demon, or whatever she’d said -- but so long as he doesn’t go and cut them from the stem himself, she helps him out. Will give him the plants he needs, and in return, he doesn’t taint certain areas of the town and the forest that she declared were off-limits. It was a spoken commercial agreement that both of them went by and because of it, their lives near to one another were comparatively peaceful to any other situation Harry has found him in prior. 

That didn’t come without its faults. They butt heads often, their bickering is nonstop, and Harry could think of many things he would rather do than have to stay in a room with her for longer than the ten minutes it takes him to get what he needs. It was fun to fluster her -- getting beneath her skin was an easy feat that he found a lot of joy in, and sometimes she gave him a run for his money. He always kind of liked making a normally mild-tempered person grump at him a little, if not for his impish ways, then so he could get to know them as their full self. 

So he wasn’t mad that she was closed because he particularly wanted to see her, no, he was mad because he was exhausted. Absolutely drained. The business was incredible when you’re the only dark witch willing to do some questionable, immoral things, but that also meant long nights and incredible emotional toil -- it wasn’t a walk in the park to conjure up a bloody demon! 

Ever since Harry had started this path, he’d had immense trouble sleeping at appropriate times, if he could fall asleep at all. He guesses this was what he gets in return for what he practices, and it could be worse so he doesn’t mind it too much, but it was still a hassle. It had been a good four years since Harry just had a good, peaceful night of sleep. 

Up until he had moved here, of course, because the same little garden witch that thought he was the devil incarnate, made a tea he could brew that set him right to sleep. Kept him asleep the entire night too, which had always been an impossible endeavor spanning back to when he was a child, but there was something about her chamomile -- hell, it really knocked him out. 

He tested his theory -- part of him thought that maybe chamomile was suddenly working for him, but no matter the brand that he tried, or the amount of tea he drank, none of it could compare to what Y/N’s did. When he visited her store, he took what he could to hold him off to the next time he came by. He hadn’t realized how low he was though when he had seen her last and she threatened to lace it with laxatives -- he should have taken two because he used his last bit the night prior to the one he’s suffering through right now. 

And he could have gotten more this morning if she didn’t close her stupid shop on weekends!

If Harry were not positive that he needed to rest, he wouldn’t bother to be trying. There was nothing worse to him than the laying in his bed and waiting for sleep that refused to come...it felt like he was being stood up by a date. It hasn’t happened often, but enough that Harry could match the feeling low in his stomach, indicative of discontent and sadness while he waited. . . . .and waited. . . .and waited. . . .and waited. 

It was useless -- the universe’s retribution for summoning spirits to the living world left him with what a doctor might diagnose as chronic insomnia, but none of the treatments did him any good. No mortal medicinal could soothe him of this ailment. So one would think he would be smarter about keeping a hearty stock of it at his disposal rather than one at a time, but Harry never claimed to be the best at planning ahead. 

And now here he was, staring at his ceiling fan whirl, his cat at his side while he contemplated if breaking and entering her shop was against his morals (he had a few left, surprisingly). 

God, she was so rotten! 

                                               .                                     .                                 .

“Have you felt weird lately?” 

“Hm?” Niall’s face scrunches up in confusion, his mouth stuffed full of noodles he just slurpped into his mouth, “Wha’ d’ya mean?” He muffles out, reaching over to her side of the table for a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth.

The record store that Niall worked at wasn’t too far from Y/N’s shop so if her day wasn’t too busy, she would step away from the store for her lunch break and seek him out. It was never a planned ordeal; Y/N would stop off somewhere to get them something to eat and appear at his storefront, the sharp ding of the bell knotted on the door alerted him of her presence. He was always one of two places: in the back, tuning the old guitars the owner would bid on different websites, or he was in the front thumbing through the record baskets, organizing and reorganizing them by name. Sometimes he would be sat behind the counter, with his feet kicked up just beside the register but Y/N scolds him for that (he’s always wearing a dingy, scuffed pair of shoes that have no business seeing the light of day, let alone be shown off to others). 

His head would perk up, he would look toward the door, and his face would bloom into one of sheer delight as he would call over to her, “Oh, thank fuck! Thought I would go crazy if I had to listen to myself think for one more second.” 

Today was no different. She brought him ramen from the place three buildings down from his own, where she bends down a street that feels more like an alleyway and the door is hidden beneath a brassy fire escape. The owners were always very kind to her, and since she came often and tipped well, they would give her free bowls if they were in the mood. Y/N never liked the idea of a one-sided relationship with a business, so she always brought them herbs, and gardenias to plant at home (they were the husband’s favorite). She takes their fliers and posts them up in high traffic areas too, and when they have their business cards made and an extra hundred or so, she slips them in the paper baggies that she gathers her customer’s things in before sending them on their way. 

Niall was grateful. He did a little cheer, left his spot from behind the counter, and urged her to follow him to the back where the break room was located (if a customer came around he would hear the bell and duck his head out to greet them, but for the most part their Tuesdays were pretty uneventful). He told her he had sensed her coming so he already had two stools set out for them to sit on, and napkins placed in the middle of the table, but she’s almost a hundred percent sure they had been left like that last time she was here. 

Try as she might to let her mind flee from the dark, hazed feeling that had overcome her last week, she couldn’t. Even as she listened to Niall prattle about some Gibson Les Paul custom that the owner purchased a while back, she struggled not to wonder what it was that was worming itself into her brain; slick tendrils of dismay overcame her. The true, unadulterated, execrable feeling only truly hits her in the night if she is outside the safety of her home or her shop, but otherwise, it was memories of this haunting aura that struck her throughout the day.

She couldn’t place her finger on it though, what it could be. There are feelings she garners when Harry summons certain spirits, but she can typically tell when he’s doing that, and they’ve never felt so. . .evil, before. What Harry deals with is evil, sure, but this was so smothered in turpitude that she couldn’t make it out. Like spilling black ink over a letter written in blue. 

That’s why she asks Niall -- it feels too strong for it to be something only felt by her and Harry. It would also soothe her mind if someone had felt it as horribly and heavily as she did, considering it wasn’t affecting Harry enough that he would try to banish the damn thing before things went sour. 

“Like, do things just not feel. . .off, to you?” She didn’t want to feed him any impressions of what she might be speaking about -- she would like to know if it were true to him. Niall is sweet as he could be, but not always when it was appropriate; he would tell her he did just to spare her from feeling foolish. It’s why she thought berets were her thing for about a month when really she looked like a washed-up indie artist trying too hard (Niall had agreed they weren’t her best fashion venture, but he certainly didn’t think they were that bad). 

His face contorts in a pout as he mulls it over in his head, stabbing his fork into the noodles and catching a bit of pork on two of the pronks, “Hm, let’s see. . .” he looks like he’s spinning through a Rolodex, “I have not for the life of me mustered enough energy to have a wank in about a week, that’s some cause for concern,” when she responds with a blank stare, he holds his hands up, “Okay, fine -- Butternut was biting at the air when I took him on his walk the other night -- like. . .chomping at it, I was actually gonna ask you what that might be about.”  

Now, don’t get Y/N wrong, any other time Niall would have told her that his great Pyrenees puppy was yapping and chomping at the wind, she would have brushed it off. “Niall, you’re just going to have to accept that he’s going to be a big, sweet dummy when he’s older.” But she was so desperate for something, anything -- because if something felt it other than she and Harry, then she wouldn’t feel quite as crazy. 

“Sometimes it feels a bit like something’s watching me,” he tacks on at the end, taking the brown napkin from the stack in between them and dabs roughly at his mouth, “At night, when I’m walking Butternut, I get these chills but there’s no wind around.” 

Y/N leans forward, thankful, “Yeah?” she presses, “Is it like -- describe it. What does it feel like?” 

“Y’know, I do forget you’re a witch until times like these,” he leans back in his chair, a heavy sigh slides from his lips before he closes his eyes like he’s trying to place himself back at the moment, “I’ll tell ya what, it’s fuckin’ -- it’s a bit like I feel it right down to my bones, but then --” he opens his eyes, raises his closed fists and flicks his fingers out at her, “Poof, s’gone as quick as it came and I forget about it. My nan used to tell me that was the devil patting your shoulder, but if it went away quick s’because an angel kicked his arse out of there.” 

It’s enough, Y/N decides, so she nods and relaxes back in her seat, “Okay, good.” 

“Good?” His brows furrow, as he reaches for his can of soda and the aluminum can crinkles beneath his fingers, “Tell you that I get chills and you’re relieved? Should I be relieved too, or worried?” 

“It isn’t anything to concern over, I don’t think,” she explains to him, “If anything changes I’ll let you know.” 

Niall uses one of his fingernails to dig the dirt from beneath the other, “Did that Harry bloke muster some horrible demon up again?” His voice is laced with vexation. Niall wasn’t a hard guy to get along with -- he was loud and Irish, could chat up a storm about anything and everything, and while he could be scrappy at times, it was for all the right reasons. He was equanimous in most situations, even-tempered to a fair degree; if Y/N were in a situation where a cool, calm collected head would be the best approach then Niall was definitely the person she wanted on her side. 

(Like when they had to drive home from a day trip to the massive lake just north of them, but the roads hadn’t been pretreated for the icy sleet that gripped the pavement. He drove them the whole way on the windy roads with little traction from the tires to the road, and was still bobbing his head and singing along to Ed Sheeran on the radio). 

But Harry Styles? Oh, the mention of his name could dig right beneath Niall’s skin. Y/N would like to think that it was because he was so cruel to her, but she knows that there are two main reasons Niall is not too fond of him nor his craft. One of which is the fact that he slept with Liana (she happened to be one of Niall’s flings at the time -- there were plenty, but Y/N only remembered this one’s name because she shared it with a woody stem rooted to the forest soil that made for easy climbing), and the other, the fact that he had helped the captain of the opposing summer footie team with one of his enchantments to make them win. There are few things Niall cares for so deeply that he would dislike someone, but his sex life and his footie were two things a person just couldn’t mess up for him. 

“No, it wasn’t him this time,” she clears her throat, pushing the rest of her ramen around idly, “It’s a bit too strong to be his doing -- more sinister too. He conjures mostly petty demons; the little ones that don’t have much better to do anyway. This is something. . .I don’t know, it just feels different.” 

Niall sighs heavily, “Well, thanks for that, reckon I won’t be sleeping tonight,” he pushes the container away from himself to signify he’s done and when she takes a peek inside and sees nothing but a few noodles limp along the sides, “I like that you keep me in the loop, but sometimes I wish you would let me live in ignorance.” 

“You know, I would apologize, but you’ve gone into an in-depth description of your arsehole to me so I thought any boundaries and forms of secrecy were long gone by now.” 

His brows furrow features contorting into that of the same desperation he had come to her with two months ago, “Ugh, c’mon! You’re practically like a witch doctor or somethin’, I thought you would have a cream or something for it.” 

“You had a hemorrhoid, Niall, for fuck sake! Even if I were a “witch doctor” then I would never let you put anything that came from my plants on your filthy bum.” 

Niall stands, gathering their trash from the break room table but using his free hand as he passes her, he swats her shoulder, “You better be nice to me, or you’re gonna have to start eating lunch with Styles.” He steps on the level for the waste bin, throwing the trash in the bag, “Though I think you two would just end up hate fucking and the food would go cold.” 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “I would never let that Gremlin near my naked body.” 

“Listen, I’m not saying I want the guy anywhere near your naked body,” he plops back down in his seat, “What I am saying is that you lot have such unbridled sexual tension it is practically palpable when I’m at the shop with the both of you. Maybe it’s ‘cos the two of you are the only witches, and opposites at that.” 

Y/N snorts, “Maybe if we were in some enemies to lovers film, sure.” 

   After they finish their break, and Y/N realizes that she’s been with him for a little over an hour, they make plans to meet up tomorrow for a movie and she heads out. The air was cool -- when she had made her way over here the sun had been glittering rays down that bathed the world in gold, but it was now hidden beneath an overcast of thick clouds. Rain always carried a familiar scent just before it started to pour and Y/N had forgone a jacket, so she huffed her way back, breathless by the time she made it up the hill and saw Harry leaning against her door. 

The sight of him makes her exhausted, but not in the usual way it does. He looks awful -- and typically he doesn’t! Y/N could admit that Harry was gorgeous; his hair always appeared soft, loose curls dispersed along the brunette strands, his eyes are a sea green, tender in his gaze when he wasn’t being an absolute prick and always bright (even when he was). His lips were pink, shaped perfectly, and his skin is typically smooth but even when he grows out his facial hair it still manages to look good. He had dimples. . .hell, Y/N would place a bet that he’d made a deal with the devil to look like that. 

But today, he just looked worn down, and exhausted, like he might not have slept the entire weekend. His eyes were closed, his hands were in his pockets and his chin was tilted down towards his chest. If not for the way his head perked up immediately when her foot crunched into the gravel pathway leading up to her store from the small parking area (that was more so a beaten down, once grassy area now just dirt with tire tracks in it), she would have thought he was asleep standing up. There’s relief in his eyes when they meet her own, which she isn’t used to seeing from him, “Thank fuck.” 

“You look horrible,” Y/N slides her hand into her pocket, pulling out her keys so she could unlock the door, “Budge over.” 

“I feel it,” he rubs tiredly at his eyes, “Go on and open up quickly then. Why the hell do you keep your store closed on weekends?” 

Y/N fits her hand over the knob, twisting it and shoving the door open with her shoulder. Thumper greets them at the door, nudging the top of his head against her ankle, “Do you work every night?” 

“No --” 

“I keep it closed on weekends for the same reason why you don’t work every night,” she heads toward the counter, settling her things down and reaching in for Thumper’s hay stash so that she could give him some, “What’re you here for? You usually come around to bother me later.” She chances petting at Thumper’s head for a moment, and since he was preoccupied with his hay he would allow it.

“Fuck!” Y/N startles, popping up from behind the counter, looking back up only to see Harry with wide, disgruntled eyes, “Where’s your chamomile?” 

Her brows dip, “I’m out right now, so --” 

“How the hell did you run out? Shit, what am I going to do now, hm? Shouldn’t you keep up with shite like this?” He’s going a mile a minute, he’s walking closer to her, distress was written all over his face and Y/N is alarmed to a fair degree -- Harry’s always seemed very collected and calm, it was seldom she ever seen him have more emotion than pure elation to fuck with her or displeased with her presence. 

“ -- so I’m going to make more today. What’s going on with you? Why are you so pissy over it?” She finishes her previous thought, watching as he leans against the counter, propping his face up with his hand and she could now more clearly make out the bags beneath his eyes.

He rubs at his temple with the finger closest to it, “The only way I can sleep is with your bloody tea,” he grumbled, “That’s why I come around all the time -- well, that and to fuck with you, but mostly the tea.” 

“Oh?” She reaches down, plucking Thumper from where he’d been positioned by her feet and setting him on the counter. He thumps his foot at her once but eventually makes his way over to Harry, sniffing at his chin before resting right before him. Y/N wasn’t necessarily doing it to be nice, but the energy he was exuding could really dampen the growth rate of her plants, and Thumper had a soothing way about him that drew all that negativity out. It was one of those odd little familiar powers that went unexplained for the most part. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“Dunno,” he shrugged his shoulders, but the tension in them begins to dissipate as Thumper snuggles beneath his chin, “Reckon I pissed off some demon or summat -- usually it isn’t this bad. Without your tea, I can at least get to bed for three hours before waking up and catch cat naps during the day, but nothing was working this weekend. I think I’ve slept a total of two hours?” 

“Christ,” she tuts her tongue, but her brain starts churning, “Do you think it has anything to do with that. . .with that thing, that’s around? That feeling?” 

Harry huffs a sigh, “Fuck, here you go again -- Babe, listen, I can barely keep a coherent thought, so why don’t I just give you some money and you make that tea for me, alright?” 

“That’s no way to ask,” Y/N chastises him, and though she is already beginning to gather the supplies she needs so she could go out and harvest her leaves, she taunts him, “You’ll have to say please, or I might just decide to wait on this batch.” 

“Please,” he wastes no time in saying, “Pretty please harvest the chamomile so that I can sleep and I promise I’ll sit and theorize with you over whatever the fuck thing you’re feeling.” 

Y/N could go through the trouble of doing a blood binding with him to ensure that he wasn’t lying to her, but she felt that was a little on the extreme side so she took his word for it. She could easily harvest her chamomile here at the shop -- she had two doors behind the counter, one that led to her garden, the field, and the forest outside while the other led to a backroom that was made into a little kitchen area. It was easier for her to do things here rather than at home and have to risk tainting them in transport; for the best results to any enchanted item, one has to seal it immediately and it should only be reopened prior to use. 

She wouldn’t allow Harry to hover over her while she worked, so she sat him behind the counter and told him to not speak to any customers if they come through (“Wasn’t planning to,”) while she went to work. Y/N gave Thumper a look when he had started to follow her, and with a small thump of his foot (his way of saying Fine!) he hops himself into Harry’s lap and settles there. The tension once again eases from Harry’s features, soothing the pinch in his brow and the way his lips had been pursed in a frown. 

It was silent as she set to work, and save for a few customers who filtered in and out (at least a dozen of them, only eight purchased something but her Mondays were always pretty slow so that was expected), there wasn’t much to disturb what appeared to be a dozing Harry. He looked much more peaceful than she’s ever seen him, and for a brief moment she contemplates sending Thumper back home with him, but she shakes her head physically as if to expel the thought from her brain. What was she going on about? She would give him his tea and send the heathen on his way. No matter how empathetic she felt for him (she had struggled with issues sleeping when she was a lot younger), there was no need to go out of her way. . .even if she could admit that the sight of him cuddling with a bunny was a little too sweet not to be documented somewhere. 

She’s finished drying the leaves and carefully stirring them in the fine powder that she still had leftover from her last batch (there were many flowers from her garden ground up and enchanted with an incantation, which sounds like a simple enough task but the entire process took a little over a week -- the magic had to be purified several times, and the potential adverse effects had to be mollified. . . if she didn’t, instead of pleasant dreams of floating in clouds, her customers would be in an unsolicited astral projection) in a little over an hour. Y/N takes care to bag them delicately, adding a little extra in the two bags she would be giving Harry so that he would bother her less over it. 

By the time she’s retreated from the back preparation room, she finds that Harry is awake now, eyeballing her Intimacy and Romance section. When he sees that she’s returned to the front, he holds up the small, cardboard parcel, “I didn’t know you doubled as a Pulse and Cocktails.” 

“That’s a natural aphrodisiac,” she tells him, walking over to her empty chamomile shelf before she begins to fill it,  “You might want to take some so your partners will actually desire you for once.” 

“Oh, Honey,” he shakes his head, a look on his face almost like he pities her, “Don’ know a thing about how people desire me. Barely have to take my cock out for them to be gagging for it -- kind of how you are, but won’t admit it to yourself.” 

Y/N kisses her teeth, “Alright lecher, come and get your chamomile then,” she plucks the two remaining bags from the box she brought them in and holds them out for him, “You should look into some spells to combat that though -- if a demon is purloining your sleep, then it’s probably still hanging around and like deluging your flat with negative energy.” 

“Dunno’ if you know this, but I work with demons often, I’m always surrounded by negative energy,” he plucks the chamomile from her grasp, before reaching in his pocket and producing a small wad of cash that he places in her palm-- Y/N opens her mouth to decline it (she felt that his money was earned in a dishonest way and would not accept it for her flowers, because it felt as if she were disrespecting them. . .she would much rather give it to him for free), but he cuts her off, “Oh, hush and take the money. This is from a care package my Nan sent me, so it wasn’t earned in any rotten way, you spoiled brat.” 

She sighs, clutching the money in her hands, “You still better keep your end of the deal,” Y/N tells him, “I want to talk about this. . .whatever that feeling is, around here lately. And I want you to be serious about it!” 

Harry was already retreating, waving his hand up at her, “Yeah, sure thing, I’ll have my secretary get in contact with you --” 

“Harry --” 

“M’only joking. I’ll come around Friday.” 

                                                                     .                       .                         .

Later that night, with Thumper snuggled in her lap snoozing, Y/N looks into purging a home of sleep stealing spirits. 

She’s only curious. 

                                                             .                         .                        . 

Sleep comes gradually, then all at once, like the shift between summer and fall. 

Wind whistles past window sills singing shallow songs of change, while red apples ripen on their branches in the orchard during harvest season. The air grows colder in the mornings and at night, the day is still steeped in the sun’s benevolent kisses of heat at first until even that begins to wane. An aesthetic of reds, oranges, forest greens and golden hues occupy the minds of many as the leaves start to stain with color. Everyone waits with bated breath for true autumn to come around the corner. 

And when it does, it’s with a cold slap of air against the face when they step outside. The air carries that distinct autumn smell, the world is chilly enough for thicker jackets and long socks, rain comes in sheets during the evenings, and the colorful leaves that had drooped from the trees adhere to the concrete, or in matted piles on the forest floor.  Suddenly, the warm drink in everyone’s hand is a little less for the excitement and impatience for fall to begin, and more so to warm their cold palms from the onslaught of biting wind. 

It isn’t autumn, and then it is -- just like sleep. Harry’s awake one minute, and then he’s passed right out. 

Well, with Y/N’s help, bless her. Sure, she had been rotten before, but she made him a new batch and sent him off with two hearty bags full of tea that would soothe his worries and put his arse to bed. Plus, he had cuddled with her sweet little bunny Thumper for a while and he had a feeling the little bugger was exuding some sort of her soft magic unto him in the form of calming waves. When the rabbit sat in his lap, all the tension eased from his muscles and he sank into an otherwise uncomfortable chair like it was the softest mattress he’d ever been privy to. So by the time he came home, started the kettle, drank a mug full, and hot tailed it to his bed, he was asleep before his head could even quite hit the pillow. 

It was so good. His dreams were pleasant, his sleep was heavy, and deep, and lasted around fifteen hours -- which in the grand scheme of things, made him feel a bit like a sloth, but he knew he needed it. He still couldn’t quite pinpoint what had happened that he just couldn’t sleep even a little bit, but he has no interest in investigating now that he had a full night’s (and partially day’s) rest. Plus, there was no time to do any exploring when he needed to make up for the work he’d missed in his time exhausted -- his powers are nowhere near as strong if he is tired, and it’s incredibly dangerous to be working with little sleep. He could mess up, and a mess-up could mean someone would likely end up possessed and -- albeit how interesting they are -- Harry’s intrigue with exorcisms ended after the seventh one he performed. 

After he woke up, showered off, and ate brekkie, he sat down with his kitten and they cleaned his crystals and a few amulets before he set on preparing some of his finer elixirs, that he always waited until he was down to the last drop to begin making more canisters of considering how extensive the process was. It would be easier if he had someone else to help out, but the only other witch within 160 kilometers of him, he wouldn’t label as the type all too willing to help him break into a blood bank. 

But he did have his kitten Oat. He was his little miracle -- Harry had been so sad when he learned that witches could have familiars, but the animal would come to him and he was supposed to just know. At that point, he’d been practicing for three years and the only feelings he could sense from any animal around him were fear and disdain, so he had thought that maybe he just wasn’t meant to have one. Which felt horrible. . .he loved animals. 

One day, when the chill in the air rosied his cheeks and the cardigan he sported did little to shield him from the cold, he was taking a walk in the forest nearby. He’d left the trail, but not because he was working. . .if he were honest, he thought that the garden that Y/N kept out there was quite magnificent. It flourished even in the winter, a meadow of flowers that’s petals never frost, and the ground never grew hard. There was an air around it that made him feel warm and pleasant, so he visited often without letting her know. Which was what he was doing, walking through the small path that she had created so that she could tend to them (he’d seen her water them once when he’d come unknowing that she was there to cater to them). 

And one moment he was looking at what he believed to be an oat grass, he heard a rustle from the bushes to his left that he looked toward (it was a bird flying away), and when his gaze returned to where it had once been, there a small kitten was laying. She was the kind of small that made his heart ache, with her eyes barely open as she yawned and stretched very wide -- she wasn’t there, and then she was. Harry always liked to say she was born from the soft soil of Y/N’s garden which was why her grey fur felt like clouds and she always smelled sweet as heliotrope. . .and, well, she smelled a lot like Y/N too. He may not be all too fond of the girl, but she did always smell nice. 

She hadn’t grown bigger than one of his boots, the tiny little thing, but not because she was malnourished in any way (Harry always made sure she was well-fed), he just thinks she’s finished growing. He couldn’t tell her breed, but if he had to guess she was some mix between a munchkin and a ragamuffin cat. Harry knows all familiars have their duties and special abilities, but he wasn’t quite sure what hers was -- he just knew that he loved her to bits and pieces, and couldn’t ask for a better little ball of fur to sit on his shoulder while he made coffee in the morning. 

What Harry did know, was that none of the demon’s he had ever conjured had ever bothered her, and she loved to be rubbed behind her ears. 

So Thursday night, when the town grew quiet and the air was still, Harry ventured out with his tote bag slung over his shoulder. It was easy to move about relatively unseen in a place like this, that wasn’t so big there were people constantly looming around the corners of every nook and cranny, but wasn’t so small that everybody knew everyone’s business. It was a pleasant in between, where he could snake through the mouth of the forest, walk a trail and end up on the other side of town without having been seen by more than a few critters. He typically made this journey relatively late, without a worry or stressor in sight -- it only took him about an hour and a half to get everything done. 

Today though -- today, he felt off. It hadn’t been immediately when he’d stepped outside, but after some time in his walk, goosebumps prickled his skin and the hair at the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn’t quite decipher what was making him feel like this when the wind hadn’t rustled the trees in a few minutes, but it put him on guard. He disliked the feeling and had only truly sensed it to this degree that night Y/N had originally questioned him about it. It was an unsavory sensation, and for it to even make him feel uneasy was saying something tremendous. 

He attempts to ignore it, even though it only grew stronger the closer he was to his destination. He weaves through the trees, stepping over the thick roots, crunching over fallen leaves, and appreciating the scent of autumn as he goes. It was a nice night, despite the chill that ran just beneath his skin. . .it was the kind of night that he might go out on his balcony and sip on his tea until he grew weary enough to step inside. Oat liked to sit outside with him, curled peacefully in his lap and resting without a care in the world (she made him feel not so lonely all the time, which he appreciated immensely). 

Harry was thinking about how that was precisely what he was going to do as soon as he returned home after he had emerged from the trees and walked through an expansive field, toward an old road that led him back into town and entered the blood bank (after melting the lock with one of his crystals). Though he sensed something strong when he was walking down the cold, dark hall. . .or someone that is, who --  before he could register their presence -- ran straight into him as they were peeling around the corner and nearly knocked him on his arse (but definitely knocked them on theirs). 

“Fuck sake!” He cried out, steadying himself, looking down at the assailant, “Watch where you’re going, mate, or you’ll -- oh, Y/N?” He pauses, confusion laces through his brain as he recognizes her, “What’re you doing here so late?” 

Y/N was on her bum, scowling at him as she gathered herself before flattening her palms to the cold, white tiled floor and pressing up to a stand, “I could ask you the same question.” 

“It would be a silly one if you did, ‘cos you and I both know what I’m doing for a living,” he watches as she swipes her bum of the dust adhering to her sweatpants -- he had never seen her so dressed down before, in a dark-colored hoodie that just about swallowed her whole. She appeared much less ferocious this way -- not that she appeared very ferocious before, but he is always intrigued to see typically put together people in their sleep clothes. . .he thinks it says a lot about a person. From Y/N’s choice of pajamas, he could tell that she probably kept her flat on the side of too cold because she liked to bundle up. . .she felt safe that way, he would guess, and he would bet 50 quid that there was bunny hair all over it because -- despite his grumpy tendencies -- Thumper loved a good cuddle.

“I felt it again,” she says after a moment, her voice only above a whisper, though there was no security here -- or anyone, for that matter since the place closes at 7 PM, but her eyes still shift around like she’s a high schooler ditching class and the headmaster's down the hall, “. . .that thing, y’know, while I was getting ready for bed, so I followed where it felt grossest and came to check it out to see if it led me anywhere.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed, “Well that was stupid,” he derides her, fixing the tote around his shoulder and shifting weight from one heel to the other, “What were you going to do if you found something, hm? Fight it off with your bunny and rose petals?”

Her scowl returns, “Piss off,” she utters before her gaze flickers to his tote and the reason he’s here becomes clearer to her than it had been before, “You shouldn’t be stealing blood. Isn’t that unethical?” 

“It’s either this or siphoning it from a live vein, Babe, and while I’m aces at plenty of things, I have not been properly trained to set up an IV. I only take the blood that’s about to expire anyway,” He nods down the hallway, toward the refrigeration where they kept all of the baggies, “You might as well continue investigating while we’re here because it’s coming from that way -- plus you can make yourself useful by keeping the door propped open for me.”

In all honesty, Harry expects more fight than he was given considering how often she seems to object to every move he makes, but she merely rolls her eyes and starts ahead of him. The feeling does grow stronger the further they descend into the hallway and he knows Y/N can feel it too, from the way she shuffles just a little closer to him, and he can hear her breathing hitch to a small halt as they stood before the door and it felt like it had all been focused just behind the door. As strong as the taste of frozen orange juice concentrate, it made his face pucker just slightly as he raised his fingers toward the keypad and began punching in the code. 

“You’re really gonna go in there?” Y/N queries gently, and Harry only nods his head in response, reaching for the door handle. An urgent, delicate touch of Y/N’s hand startles him, looping around his wrist and dragging his attention toward her, “Shouldn’t we have a game plan if something is behind the door?” She asks, her hold on him tightening just a little, and Harry notes how soft her palm feels against his skin, “Like, let’s say we open the door and a behemoth is standing there, what do we do?” 

“The only behemoth that could fit in this tiny room is the band from Poland, Babe, and I reckon they have better things to do on a Thursday night,” he retorts, clenching around the knob and tilting it down, “Now unless you want to hold hands in there. . .” 

She lets go before he can finish, and he doesn’t have to look back at her face to know she’s irate. A small smile quirks at his mouth as he pushes his shoulder against the heavy door to aid him opening it, bracing himself to see something potentially horrid. . .

And there’s nothing. 

Actually, as soon as they open the door, the dark, odious feeling that had been encompassing both of them disappears entirely. “Whoa,” Y/N pushes her hand against the door and keeps it open, taking one step inside of the room, “There’s a lot of blood in here.” His gaze flickers back at her, as she looks around, looking more intrigued than disgusted -- there was a lot of blood, 8 by 5-meter room just filled with it, so he could understand some of the awe. The more he returns, the less awe he feels, but he reckons that was to be expected. 

“There are about five other refrigerators in this building too,” he tells her as he lowers to his knees, cracking open his tote, “This one’s computers are easier to get into though, and doesn’t say the date and time the amount was changed so nobody knows anything is missing. Easy peasy.” 

Y/N nods, “Right. Stealing blood -- easy peasy,” she leans against the door, “What is it that you use it for?” 

“It really depends,” he murmurs as he pulls out a rack, counting out the baggies he needed, “Some demons like blood more than ash, so they come when called and are more willing to help you out when given a little gift. There are a few spells that call for it, and elixirs are twice as potent — sometimes I have to drink it, which is...unpleasant,” he hears her shiver, “—but it makes the outcome better. All in a day's work.”

“Oh wow,” Y/N hummed, “That’s...different. I think the weirdest thing I’ve had to drink for a spell was doe milk and I felt guilty the whole time. Like I was taking it from a fawn that needed it.”

Harry huffed out a laugh — Y/N was a soft little thing, comparing drinking blood to milk — sometimes he forgets how sheltered her world of magic is compared to his own.  It was easy to forget with all the spiteful words she could throw his way, but to see her out of her comfort zone. . .it’s refreshing. Not because she is less confident in her surroundings, but because she is more open to his own If someone would have told Harry they would be even remotely civil with one another in a room full of blood, he would have snorted before asking what they were snorting. 

“I oughta call you Bambi then.” 

He was on his last baggy of blood, checking the expiration date, and logging it into the computer when the dreadful feeling returned. Like a fly to rotting meat, it clings back to the room they were in tenfold. From behind him, a sharp clatter and Y/N’s squeal startles him to look back at her, “Harry!” She cried, pointing ahead of her, “The walls! L-look at the walls!”  

Harry follows her finger, watching as a thick, black substance oozes from the wall’s coving. When Y/N had noticed as much, she knocked down a stray IV pole that had been left in here, and it lay at her feet where the same black ooze had begun seeping up from the trim of the floors. In all his time doing what he does, Harry had never seen something so odd, nor had he ever felt something this grotesque overcome his being. It makes him act quickly, and while he doesn’t speak, he does fix his tote over his shoulder and practically jog the short distance to Y/N, knocking her out of the room, grabbing the door by the handle, and swinging it shut. He had hoped to seal it in there, whatever it was, but when they look down at the floor, the goo bleeds beneath the door and they both take a startled step back, “Oh fuck me,” Harry mutters to himself, shaking his head. 

“What the hell is this?” Y/N is panicked -- it’s very clear in her voice, and while Harry was a tad thankful not to be dealing with this alone, he can’t say that a soft which, who planted pretty flowers and made sleepy time tea was necessarily the backing he wanted in the event he had to exorcise a demon. He didn’t even have the proper tools for it. . .he didn’t know what he was exorcising, fuck sake --  “Harry, shouldn’t we --” 

“We need to leave,” he states, pivoting on his heel and hustling down the hall, Y/N was quick to scurry behind him, though she still murmurs some protest. 

“We shouldn’t just --” 

“Listen, unless you have any idea what that is and how to clean it, let alone banish it to hell, I saw we have a better chance through those doors than we do staying in here for even a second more,” he told her, holding out his hands to the crash bar, shoving the heavy door open, only looking back to make sure that Y/N had made it through, seeing that the black ooze had been following them before he promptly slammed the door shut. 

This was one of the back doors, so it spits them out to the graveled employee parking lot that dances along one of the many mouths of the forest that surrounded them. They’re both out of breath, adrenalin zipping through their veins in a tidal wave as their chests heave and they stare at the door. They wait for it to crawl beneath these doors. . .they wait for the building to either be overcome by sludge or combust from whatever sinister being had decided to preoccupy this space. 

But nothing happens. 

The wind picks up, the leaves rustle against the branches, and as if it were a gift from the Earth, the sordid feeling blew right away with it. 

“What the hell was that?” Y/N asks for the second time. 

Harry straightens out from where he’d been crouched, inhaling the cool air, appreciative to be in it. 

“Do you think for a second, with my reaction, that I have any fucking clue?” 

                                                        .                             .                              .

Y/N doesn’t have people at her flat often. 

Actually, apart from Niall and a few maintenance men, nobody had ever really come over. Not for any particular reason, really, and not because she didn’t want them to necessarily -- the opportunity just rarely arose, or more so, she didn’t often allow it to. If she were going to meet someone then she would meet them somewhere else, and they would part ways after they were finished (again, apart from Niall, who would simply follow her home, kick his trainers off, and head toward her couch which he had told her was simply the comfiest he’d ever been on). Her home was her humble abode. . .it was where she came to destress after a long day, and where Thumper sometimes waited for her debating whether or not he wanted to nibble her bathroom rug to shreds.

Not to mention she had plants growing here too, and flowers that she held dear to her, and while people are more reluctant to go touching what isn’t their business at a store, they are much less disinclined to give that same respect to her plants. Once Y/N had a maintenance man over to fix her faucet and she’d walked out from her room to see that he was caressing her snake plant’s leaves. She couldn’t blame him -- the plant had a very encompassing presence about it and had a way of drawing people in if they weren’t careful. . .hypnotized by the way it made them feel. All of Y/N’s soil and seeds are charmed with special incantations and concoctions that took her years to perfect, she would be disappointed if they weren’t causing people to leave all semblance of professionalism to even for a moment feel as if they were in a room with such clear air, their lungs felt renewed and they deemed it necessary to get closer. 

But then she had to apologize to her snake plant for nearly two days after! It had been so upset with her, she could feel it, so she started being even more careful about who she let in.  If she was going to go out of her way to have someone over, then there was a good reason for it. . .or it was Niall. 

And a demonic, gooey substance sweating from the walls of a blood bank, was well enough a good reason to have Harry over. 

It took some coaxing on her part -- he was convinced that they needed to just go back to their respective flats and go to bed, but Y/N was adamant in vetoing the idea. “We’re supposed to talk tomorrow anyway, so we might as well just go ahead and do it tonight -- and you are not leaving me alone after whatever the fuck that was!” 

After a good ten minutes, he finally relented as long as they could stop by his flat so he could get his kitten. Y/N hadn’t known that he had a kitten and thought maybe he would bring out some ragged-looking thing, but she was surprised to see through her windshield window that Harry was approaching her car with a small grey kitten. Her face contorts in the way everyone’s face might when they see something small and cute, “Look at her,” she coos once Harry opens his door, “What’s her name?” 

“This is Oat,” he answered, holding her out for Y/N to pet, “Be careful, she’s vicious.” 

Y/N pet at her head and Oat’s eyes shut as she nuzzled into her palm, “Oh yeah, what a panther.”

 Apart from the nerves that had already materialized from what they had seen in the blood bank, she was a little worried about inviting him into her home. When she visualized her safe space, Harry was not typically who she saw sitting on her couch when she came in from the kitchen, holding mugs of warm tea. Yet there he was, introducing Thumper and Oat to one another (who merely sniffed each other, then immediately cozied against her olive throw blanket on the end of the couch), and Y/N is handing him his steamy mug. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, immediately nursing the mug between his palms and lifting it up to his mouth for a small sip -- the steam disperses around his face in plumes, “And it wouldn’t make sense for. . .for whatever that is to just be a demon.” 

“What?” She inquires, taking her seat beside him on the couch, her body twisted so she was facing him entirely. Y/N had adjusted the temperature to something that would be a bit more suited toward having a guest -- when she’s alone, she keeps it ungodly cold so she has an excuse to bundle up in her clothes and blankets. There’s nothing like feeling safe in a cocoon of various fabrics with Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the telly. 

Harry strategically places the mug between his knitted socked feet, steadying it there as he begins to play with the thick, brassy tiger ring on his index finger, “Demons are strong, sure, but if they’re gonna be that strong there’s typically two reasons for it: they have already inhabited that area, or someone is controlling them behind the scenes. I would be more inclined to believe the prior, but I’ve been going to this blood blank for about a year now and unless there were some pentagrams I’ve missed or a gruesome ordeal that never made the papers in the past two weeks -- then there’s no reason for that to have happened at the hands of a spirit. Even a blood demon isn’t strong enough to make what happened in there happen, and they literally feed off the substance in the room.” 

“So you think someone summoned it or something? I thought you were the only one around here that did that?” Y/N probes, trying to look in his eyes but she keeps getting distracted by his rings -- how many did he have? She thinks he nearly has one on each finger, and he’s plucking them off and placing them on different knuckles as he speaks. Y/N wonders if it’s something he does in response to a stressor, like how she picks at her nails. 

“I’m the only witch that summons things around here, but not even I could conjure something that feels that vile.” He explained, fitting the last ring against his knuckle before he pops the bones in his fingers, and Y/N watches as the skin stretches and moves around the muscles in his hands,  “I think someone is trying to manifest something without the proper safeguards in place. . .the lack of protection charms, crystals, and spells can invite much more heinous creatures to the living world. They feed off shite like that -- naivety. . .thinking that any person could decide they’ll have a demon carry out a job for them. It’s easier for them to take advantage of them that way.” Harry exhales, running the pad of his thumb around the rim of the mug— she’s given him the one that has intricate, realistic drawings of beluga whales on it, not for any other reason apart from that one was her favorite and she liked to see it in use, “And with a full moon coming up? Recipe for disaster.”

“Oh shit,” Y/N holds her tea closer to her being, “That’s why the feeling is so profuse and disagreeable in the air then, ‘cos they aren’t containing it right? When I was looking into a little bit of what you do, I read that there are containment spells so the demon or spirit doesn’t have free range to do as it pleases, but the spell is dependent on the demon in question and the severity of its power.” 

Harry looked pleasantly surprised, “Yeah, that’s right -- what’re ya looking up what I’m doing for?” He settles into her couch, “Have you got a crush on me or summat?” 

If Y/N rolled her eyes any further back, she thinks they would have done a 360 in her eye sockets, “I fell down a rabbit hole the other night when I was trying to figure out why you couldn’t sleep,” an impish grin slides onto his mouth, “And not because I’m “in love with you” -- I just thought it would be interesting to know if your insomnia was the reason of a demon because that would mean one of my items combats against that and wins. My. . .most of my magic is based on prevention when it comes to dark things like that, not really to fight what’s already there.” 

“So your flowers don’t like -- I dunno, Little Shop of Horrors it?” He teases, motioning to her Hoya plant that had just begun to bloom for her, “I reckon when I think of plant magic, I think of you snapping your fingers and thorned ivy whipping around to slow assailants.” 

“No, none of that,” she laughs lightly, shaking her head, “They’re much too nice and gentle. . .they only want to help. And I’m rarely in a situation where I would need thorned ivy whipping around.” Y/N locks eyes with Oat for a moment, whose eyes close nice and slow before she reopens them and Y/N thinks she might just melt, “What do we do then? How do we stop it?” 

He slides a ring with teddy bears from his pinky and spins it between his forefinger and thumb, “There’s nothing to do -- if we don’t know who the problem is, then we can’t fix anything.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, and the action makes his already loose cardigan slide down his arms, revealing more of the cream-colored shirt he wore with Smokey the Bear on the front reading Only YOU! can prevent forest fires, “All we can do is wait for the next fucked feeling and hopefully run into the person causing -- oh,” Harry pauses, motioning toward her, “You’ve got a new friend.” 

Y/N’s confused, brows knitted until she feels a paw press against her shoulder and the telltale purr of a happy kitty. When she turns her head, she finds that Oat has snuck her way up to her, and is now attempting to perch on Y/N’s shoulder. She presses closer to the back of the couch so that she had a better footing, and in return Oat bumps at her cheek with the top of her head, “You’re so cute, stop it,” she murmurs, and when she takes a breath through her nose, she smiles, “She smells like my heliotrope flowers too! How are you the familiar of such a grumpy, cruel lug, huh?” 

“Oi,” Harry mutters, “I resent that. I’m not grumpy or cruel, you’re just rotten.” 

A retort plays at Y/N’s mouth but her phone screen lights up from where it’s sat on the coffee table and strays her attention. She’s confused -- the only person who would be messaging her this late was Niall but she’s almost a hundred percent certain that he was supposed to be out at the bar tonight. It is him though. 

Fuck me, have ya looked at the news? Is this that thing we were talkin bout? 

Harry is a nosy bugger, and after reading the message with her he reaches for her remote, “You told him about it?” He turns on her telly, quick to open her TV guide, “So he knows about you?” 

“Yeah, he knows -- turn to 3,” she tells him, and soon enough the local news is playing out, big bold letters on the blue band stretched across the bottom of the screen. 

MAN TO BE CHARGED WITH ATTEMPTED MURDER ON GIRLFRIEND 

He turned the volume up, so they could hear the news reporter who was on site. There was yellow caution tape stripped around a house, police lights, cops walking around in the back, and frightened neighbors who had left the comfort of their homes to investigate what was happening. The woman on screen had long blonde hair that whipped when the wind blew and muffled her microphone feed, her face set stony as she recounted the events as the police had told her, “. . .has no recollection of the event, and is claiming the “walls” were dripping in blood and demanding that he do it. Jacobs is being taken in for further questioning and pending a psychiatric evaluation -- his girlfriend Amanda Wilson is being rushed to hospital that’s all anyone knows right now. Back to you Tom...” 

“Oh, fuck sake,” Harry groaned, shaking his head, “Now this is a problem, problem innit?” 

“Was it not before?” Y/N takes the remote from him, turning the volume down, “Do you -- does that sound like anything you’ve dealt with? That would try hurting someone like that?” 

He presses his knuckles to his eyes, sighing, “Not that I remember -- I’ll have to do some digging. . .this is bollocks, you know how bad this is for business? Nobody wants to mess with dark magic when shit like this is going on.”

“Aish, don’t think so selfishly. People are in danger,” she tsks at him, “And we’ll need to -- what are you doing?” She asks as he removes his feet from where they had been on the couch, reaching down for his loafers like he was about to put them on. 

“S’getting late,” he responded, “I was g’na head home --” 

“No you’re not,” she told him, her face dropping in borderline disgust as he seemed genuinely confused with her, his face twisting, “We experience something like that, then see the news, and you not only want to separate, but you want to walk all the way home, alone, in the dark? No way, that’s too stupid, you’re staying here.” 

Harry’s brows dipped in, irritated, however, he did stop reaching for his loafers,  “But --” 

“Listen, we may not be fond of each other but I’m not letting you put yourself in danger,” she tells him, before adding quickly, “And you are fucking not going to leave me alone after that! Are you mad?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d be doing you a favor without bothering ya with my presence. Never thought Miss. Good Witch of the North would want me breathing her air for too long.” He ripostes and it reinvigorates any distaste for Harry that had been easing throughout the night the more they spoke. He always did that -- always made her feel like she was some stuck up prick who never gave him a chance, but she would have if he hadn’t started out being such an arse to her. Sure, the circumstances they had met under weren’t fantastic. . .she snapped at him for taking her flowers without asking, but he could have just apologized -- could have said sorry, and they could have started over but he was immediately put off by her she presumes, because ever since he’d been nothing but cruel to her. His knocking her out of the room in the blood bank was probably the first kind thing he’d ever done for her, and she isn’t a hundred percent certain that she wasn’t just in his way while he was trying to get out. 

So she glowers at him as she pushes from her couch, “Sod off. I’ll get you some blankets.”

He almost immediately replaces the spot that her body had been with his legs, stretching out as far as he could and his feet flop on the arm of the sofa, “Reckon you should make me some of that tea though, so I can sleep.” He called after her. Thumper hops off and follows after her, while Oat finds her spot at Harry’s side and cuddles into where his cardigan’s extra fabric bundles. Y/N goes to the closet in the hall that leads to her bedroom, pries it open, and reaches to the top shelf where she keeps her extra blankets and pillows. Despite how irritated he makes her, she grabs him one of her heavier quilts, because even with her heat kicked up higher than normal her flat has very poor insulation, and the night’s into early mornings get pretty cold. She’s about to grumble at him that he better thank her for this and the bloody tea, but when she returns to the living room. . .he’s asleep. 

Harry just fell right to sleep. 

She’s confused -- understandably, she thinks, because she remembers how much of a fit he’d thrown about her tea and how she was closed on weekends so he couldn’t have any of it. Had whined how he wasn’t able to sleep without the tea, and she had only given him peppermint tea tonight, so there was no reason that should have put him to bed. 

Yet there he was, fast asleep with his arms crossed over his chest. 

 Tutting her tongue quietly, she unrolls the blanket she had chosen for him and strategically places it over his legs. She is careful to move Oat so that she doesn’t suffocate under the covers as she pulls them over, up to Harry’s chest before replacing her in the spot she had snuggled prior. She pauses for a moment before she leaves them, taking in a completely relaxed Harry -- not that he doesn’t seem relaxed all the time, but he’s just. . .calm. His muscles have melted against her couch cushions, his brow has soothed and his amaranth pink lips are soft and parted. Gentle, easy breaths slip through his mouth. . .Y/N thinks that she likes him like this. Not spiteful, or crass -- this Harry doesn’t seem to hate her. This Harry is warm and comfortable enough to just fall asleep on her couch. 

Thumper thumps his foot against the floor, his not-so-silent request that they go to bed and Y/N snaps out of whatever hypnotic state she’d been in watching him rest. She feels creepy but shakes it off, reaching down to pick up Thumper by his belly and cradling him to her chest as she leaves the living room, keeping her lamp on for him in case he wakes up to have a wee or anything. 

It’s when she goes to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water to leave at the coffee table for him, that she can feel Thumper judging her. This is only confirmed by the way he is looking up at her when she looks down at him, his small, pink nose twitching, and she can just sense him repeating Harry’s tease of have you got a crush on me or summat? -- it’s not like he hasn’t questioned her before. She reckons if Thumper could actually speak and not just implant little thoughts of his in her head through whatever little bond they have, he would be very free with his accusations about who she might have feelings for. 

Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“No, I don’t,” she disagrees with him quietly, “What do you know about crushes, hm? You’re just a bunny.” 

                                                         .                               .                              .

It had been a while since Harry had worked. 

Though he was always hesitant to call it work, all things considered. Y/N had once described to him that what he did was lurk around seedy clubs and wait to be recognized by a sorry sap that wanted something they didn’t want to put much effort towards, and Harry can’t necessarily say she’s wrong.  He preyed on the lazy; men and women who couldn’t be arsed to obtain a goal without the help of a little magic no matter how negative, and Harry couldn’t really fault them for it. One, because sometimes goals are unattainable with literally anything other than a demon's help, and two because he gets a hefty wad of cash in his pocket for his trouble. How hypocritical could he be to deprecate their usage of dark magic when he is doing the same thing. . .when he relies on that more than anything, even the silly little romance novels he writes so that nobody questions where his money’s coming from. 

It was a Friday night, and since he was no longer tied to the commitment of meeting Y/N to discuss the horrible, no good, terrible thing that was slithering its way through town and apparently spurring bouts of attempted murder -- he was able to visit a club. Though Y/N had made him lock pinkies with her that morning, telling him to keep his eye out for anything suspicious that may or may not have led to the events from the night prior. 

Promise me that you’ll keep informed on what’s going on there, okay? And promise me that you’ll tell me about it. 

The club he’d visited was one of the more popular of the four he frequented, and within the walls, amongst the gyrating bodies in scant clothing and sweat-drenched skin, were many of his regular clients. One of which had been blowing up his phone for the past week telling him how he desperately needed help, and he needed it ASAP. Harry finally replied to his message with a simple time that he would meet him, and that they would discuss the cost once he’s explained what is being asked of him. This guy, in particular, wanted many frivolous things, and typically his requests revolved around wealth, though Harry thought he had more than enough. And while Harry could do a few simple spells that would bring the money gradually and don’t come with the dangers that a demon will, he refuses. Harry has always told each of his clients that a spell and a demon could do the same thing, but demons brought faster results, albeit potentially precarious consequences.

And when it comes to summoning, things can get a bit tricky. If the person who is summoning is the person who will benefit from the demon’s will directly, then it may come with a price, and that price may or may not be hidden between the lines. Especially when it is someone who has no clue about the actual process, offerings that could be made without including their soul for the taking, and spells that could be done that would protect them. After doing this for so long, Harry had developed and harnessed enough power that it was rare a spell every backfired or a demon ever bested him, but if Bradley Evans tried this himself, he’d be good as dead. 

This is why, no matter how this man grates every open end of his nerves with a dull blade, he continues to help him. Again, Harry gets paid an obscene amount of money for what he does, so he sucks it right up -- and it’s not as if this money is just for him. He has people to take care of, his own personal gripes with the smarmy, rich, meat-headed pricks that want him to summon Clauneck for a trip to the Bahamas matter very little in the grand scheme of things. 

He’s leaning against the far back corner, at a table that he’d claimed for the night and a cherry mango cocktail that wets his lips and stains them red. He really isn’t scouting for suspicious behavior like he had promised to, only because his mind had floated elsewhere entirely. Like how, after so long of only ever being able to rest with help of Y/N’s chamomile, he was able to fall asleep without the help of anything. He had asked her about the tea that she and he drank prior to him passing out unprompted on her couch, but she told him it was just a store-bought strawberry tea that was a guilty pleasure. 

It perplexed him greatly. He only remembers her demanding him to stay the night because she didn’t want to be alone (and if he’s honest, neither had he after the night they had), he remembers her standing and him stretching out on her couch, and he remembers asking her for the tea that would help him sleep. 

And then he remembers waking, feeling refreshed, and renewed. Confused, but reinvigorated, he had a wee before poking around in her kitchen for something to satiate his grumbly stomach. Y/N was still asleep -- he’d peeked his head into her cracked open door only to find her dreaming peacefully, relaxed, and content. As creepy as it felt to stare at her as she slept, he did watch for a moment. It was different to see her without the accompanied scowl he usually coaxed upon her face -- the blissful gleam that exudes from her now is the same that he sees when she’s tending to one of her gardens. 

He brewed two chai lattes in her Keurig with Oat on his shoulder like a bird and she woke as he was taking the second mug, setting it on her kitchen counter, “G’morning,” she yawned, Thumper hopping behind her, looking just as sleepy, “Did you sleep through the night? I made you a cuppa and kept it in the microwave in case you woke up.” 

His heart had lurched. . .a genuine clench that Harry had not felt in a while.

“Oh,” he blinked at her owlishly, “I slept just fine, but thank you.” 

“Mm, good,” she was so sleepy still, Harry remembers wondering if she was even fully awake speaking to him, “I  have sliced fruit in the fridge if you want, for brekkie.” 

It was a domesticated scenario that Harry had not been privy to.  

Had it been her flat? Maybe the plants that she had strewn about the room were all enchanted, singing sweet songs of sleep that lulled him to sleep without him knowing. All he could recall was feeling so unbelievably comforted and no matter how cold it was in that damn flat, he felt so warm. . .so warm, and it smelled so good, and Oat was snoozing happily at his side. Plus she had wrapped him in this quilt that was heavy and smelled nice -- he thinks, in that moment, he finally understood why babies liked feeling contained in a swaddle blanket. Regardless of what happened at the blood bank, and what they found out on the news, Harry felt safe in her flat. And he probably wouldn’t have left either, if he didn’t have to work. 

He’s so caught in his reverie, that Bradley’s arrival truly startled him. A clearing of his throat catches his attention, dragging his unfocused gaze from the crowd of dancers to Bradly, dressed in a Lacoste polo that thought was ugly but he would never say it aloud, “Oh,” he straightened up, bringing the rim of his glass to his mouth and taking a small sip of it, “Right then, what can I do for you? Another trip to Barbados?” 

Bradley shakes his head a little frantically, and it's only then that Harry takes in the actual appearance of him, that surpasses the Lacoste and zeros in on the panic that decorates his face, “I need like -- like a demon protector or some kinda spell or -- I don’t fucking know, or something.” 

“Oh --” his brows dip, “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” 

He starts to nod, then switches it to a shake of his head, and that morphs into a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t know man, I just don’t feel -- I don’t feel safe. I wondered if one of those demons from before were like. . .after my soul or summat.” 

“Not possible,” Harry dismisses the idea, setting his glass down on the high round table, “When I work with them we make a spiritual, contractual agreement that they are bound to. If your soul was not on the table, then it will never be on the table -- it must be something else,” he thinks for a moment before a slither of realization stokes the fire in his brain, that sets the coals aflame and heats the cogs to a churn, “What -- explain to me what you’re feeling?” 

“Like something is watching me,” he blinked, crossing his arms on top of the table and leaning most of his weight onto it, the scent of liquor wafts over Harry’s face when Bradly breathes, “It’s heavy and. . .it’s like swimming in ink. It’s horrible and frightening, and I’ve never -- I’ve never been one to rely on vibes, but mate, they were bad. . .they were like -- vile. Vile vibes, man.” 

Harry thinks, while his description is repugnant, he knows exactly what he’s talking about, but there wasn’t much he could do. Harry can make protection spells that are generalized but he doesn’t believe that any of them are strong enough to fend off whatever this thing is. In cases like this one, sometimes dark magic is not good to fight dark magic, it can only make it grow and fester like a nasty, infected wound. He really did not want to try that out on Bradley. . .he may not be fond of the guy, but he didn’t wish anything ill on him. 

“You wouldn’t come to me for a protection spell, for something like that,” Harry begins, “You would need --” You would need Y/N -- is what is about to leave his lips, but it drops away. As much as it’s true -- as much as Harry knows that the reason he felt the safest he’s ever had in Y/N’s presence was whatever protection spells she had put in place and strengthened -- he couldn’t. The thought of sending someone like Bradley to someone like Y/N, makes him feel sick. “Give me one second, yeah? Stay here.” 

Y/N gave him her number that morning, telling him that it was silly for them to be unable to contact one another. Harry saved it into his phone and sent her a picture of Oat so that she would have his, but left it at that -- he had assumed, until this moment, that he would never have a reason to have her number. If he ever wanted anything from her he would just show up at her store. 

But here he was, scrolling through his contact list to find her, pressing her number and holding his phone up to his ear. It only rings twice before she’s answered it, “Hello? Is everything okay Harry, did you get a lead?” 

Harry laughs in disbelief, “What’re you, a detective?” He cleared his throat so he could speak over the music clearly, “I need you for something, and I’ll give you half. And before you get all high and mighty, it isn’t for anything bad -- one of my regulars is experiencing the same fucked thing we have only it’s more vile vibes opposed to blood seeping from the walls. Need a protection spell -- whatever you use for your flat and store.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, long enough that Harry questions if his service dropped, but her voice reappears.

 “Where are you?” 

Fifteen minutes later, Harry is flagging Y/N down to his spot in the club where he stood next to Bradley whose friends kept coming around wondering if Harry was his pull for the night. Her jumper with a printed bunny right in the center made him chuckle to himself -- it was more than clear that she had not planned on coming out tonight, and if not for Harry, he thinks she would have spent three more hours at her store tending to the garden there if not for him. When she sees him, noticeable relief makes her shoulders slump, and as she gets closer, she reaches into her pocket, “Thank god,” she called over the music, “I’ve been in here for three minutes and if I got knocked into one more time I was going to lose it.” 

She produces two things -- one is a tiny vial, with an unidentified green liquid, and the other is a small baggie of her tea. Harry takes both from her hand, “Thank you,” he murmurs, before dipping down closer to her ear, “Go over to that empty table near the bar, I don’t want this guy seeing you clear enough that he could ask you for anything ever again.” 

Though she was confused, she listened to him, slinking her way over to the table while Harry turned to Bradley who had been looking at his phone, before both were placed in front of them, “Thank you,” he tells him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. How much?” 

“850,” Harry says without batting an eyelash. Typically his business runs closer to the thousands but he cuts the guy a break since he’s scared.

“Each or what?” Bradley asks as he fishes his wallet from his pocket, flipping the leather open and beginning to thumb through his bills. 

“No, just 850,” he takes the bills from him, folding it between his fingers, “I shipped your crystals last week, did they come?” 

Bradley nods, a big grin on his face, “Oh, fuck yeah dude, I almost forgot! I already transferred you the money for them right?” 

Harry thinks it’s a shame that he doesn’t keep track -- he could really scam him if he wanted to, with these black crystals bathed in the water of Asmodeus (they increases stamina and aids them in not being shit in bed; it was a fucking full-day event to get Asmodeus to recognize the clear stream water, in an incubator that he checks every 15 minutes or so to see if the water has been touched red)  “Yeah, you sent double the amount ‘cos your buddy wanted some too, right?” 

“He loved them, mate,  he’s way less narky too now that he’s getting his dick wet.” 

Harry holds back a grimace, “Alright then, stay safe. You know how to contact me if you need anything.” 

Bradley bids his goodbye and Harry seeks out Y/N, who is picking idly at her fingernails and bobbing her head slightly to the music. When he gets close enough to her, he starts on his spiel as he waves the money toward her,

“Listen, Babe, you used your plants to help him, honestly you deserve way more than this -- a fucking Nobel Prize probably,” he holds it out to her, “Here.” 

She shakes her head, but not in the way she would if she were refusing it because she was disgusted by him -- no, instead she closes his hand around it again and presses it closer to his body, “No, no, you keep it, he’s your guy or whatever.” 

Harry tilts his head, brows knitted, “But they’re your plants.” 

“Yeah, but I would just feel guilty taking it from you so --” 

He sighs, counting out 450 of it, taking her hand, opening her fingers, and sliding the bills into her palm, “Even split then. If you’re going to utilize something precious to you to help someone like that fucker, you deserve a little compensation for it. “ 

Y/N must realize that he wasn’t going to let it go, because she finally folds it in her hands, slipping it into her pocket, “What’s with that guy then? Why do you not like him?” 

Harry can see it clearly; the image of his childhood self, his family struggling to make ends meet but going to primary school with the wealthier kids. The ones who laughed at his faded shirts, and holed winter coats -- who would ask him to their birthday parties and talk shit about the gift he’d scraped up coins for doing miscellaneous work around the neighborhood. He thinks about how he knew they would go home to kitchens full of food, and bountiful dinners that they would never appreciate, while Harry never took seconds because no matter how hungry he was, he made sure their bellies were as full as they could be. And Harry remembers how the headmaster did nothing to quell his worries because those kid’s parents could buy out the school if they wanted to. 

He sees it all, and he hears it all, and for a moment -- selfishly -- it makes Harry wish he had never given Bradley the protection spell at all. 

But he only shakes his head, “He’s just a prick,” he answers simply, before nodding his head toward the door, “Reckon we should get out of here, it smells like piss.” 

It’s always a little easier to leave the club than it is to enter it, so they’re out in the cool air soon enough. A small line had formed outside since Harry had been in there last, and as they step out, a group of three is let in through the rope chain that the bouncer is policing. This part of town is always bustling late into the night, so neither feel the cold brush of fear they have been when they’re out in the dark -- or at least the relaxed way Y/N is looking around tells him that she’s pretty content. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” She asks him, pointing at the 24-hour diner right across the street, that had been strategically placed there because people who are drunk and high who just sweat out half their body weight love greasy food, “I skipped dinner today.” 

“What a coincidence -- so did I.” 

They got a booth in the far back corner, where the white and maroon tilted floor glistened wet from a recent scrub from the mop, and the air smells of lemon pine-sol. This along with the fact that the black leather seats were dusted of the crumbs that usually mottles them, Harry would assume that they had come just in time for their 12 AM clean up, where the first batch of besotted clubbers had left a mess and they were waiting for the second wave to come through. He didn’t miss the eye that the waitress had given them, looking them up and down like she was trying to decipher what state they were both in, but when neither of them wobbles in their stance, or slur through their words asking for a table, she relaxes and asks them where they’d like to sit. 

After they get settled and order their food (Harry convinces her to get one of their malted milkshakes with him -- his favorite was strawberry and after she confessed that she never had their strawberry malt, he was insistent on her trying it), Harry’s curiosity is suddenly piqued as he thinks of something he hadn’t thought of before, “How did you make it over to the club so fast, hm? Do you just have jars of this stuff made laying around?” 

Y/N sticks her clear straw in the icy glass of water she’d been poured, stirring it like there was anything to mix, and the ice cubes clink together soundly, “No, no, I actually don’t make protection spells unless I’m asked directly -- or usually that’s the case, but I was already in the middle of making some for you and me, so I had a little leftover.” 

“For me too?” Harry inquires, genuinely surprised by the concept that she would make him something to keep him safe. She nods though, like it was silly that he thought she wouldn’t have, only this time she reaches into her purse and retrieves two much larger vials with little cork tops, and one bigger bag of the dried leaves, accompanied by a smaller one tied with red ribbon. 

“I was doing some research while I was at work --” 

“You do a lot of research, don’t you?” He cuts her off and she nods. 

“Mhm -- and there’s this like. . .there’s this elder witch who lives an hour or so drive away from us who I think might be immortal, but that’s beside the point. She has this blog that I was scrolling through and she linked her email, so I messaged her and she sent me her number and told me to call her immediately.” She slides one of the vials over to him, along with the tree leaves, “When I did, she told us that we were in a little more danger than everyone else ‘cos like -- whatever this thing is could start trying to feed off of us, especially you. Said that we needed a potent protection spell, and I told her about mine. You feel safe in my store and in my flat right? Like -- like whatever that thing is couldn’t get to us?” He nodded, eyes fixed on hers, “So this is a version of that suitable for our bodies. The tea leaves are for your flat, and then this little bag here --” she points at the one tied closed with the small strip of red ribbon, “-- this is a tea version of it safe for Oat to drink.” 

Not only had she made him some, but she also made Oat some too? As much as he disliked her before, he can’t help how this warms his heart, zipping through his body and makes him feel just as safe as he did when he was wrapped in her quilt snug on her couch. Harry wonders if this is what she’s like all the time with her friends. . .he wonders if this side of her, that researches and makes protection goodies, brews him a cuppa just in case he woke up in the middle of the night and comes out in the depth of night to the seedy clubs she despises just because he called and asked -- if that’s what they get to see. If that’s what he would have seen had their meeting been any different. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, taking the vial and the bags, looking at them against his palm, “A lot. You didn’t have to do this for me.” 

“I did though,” she takes a drink of the water through her straw, “I may not agree with what you do but we’re the only two witches here and there is power in unity, even if our versions of magic are different. We have to be there for each other -- Thumper agrees, and that’s a lot coming from him because he doesn’t like much of anybody. . .he barely likes me,” she holds her hand up, the index finger of her other going from finger to finger as she lists off the ingredients, “So we’ve got fern, anise, leaves from the ash tree in the forest, fennel -- the nice old woman told me to hold off on the mugwort unless we’re planning on astral projecting or doing anything with divination, but if we felt that it was necessary we could wear a wreath of it around her necks. That’s an old wives tale though, I’m pretty sure.” She wiggles her fingers, “All that and a little bit of moon water, and we have ourselves a little protection spell! I dipped my finger in for a taste test and I’ll be honest, it’s awful and plant-y but I reckon we can toss them back like a shot and chase it with a sweet drink like juice or something.” 

It hits Harry that he gave Y/N very little credit for what she did, but now as he’s looking at something that she’d made specifically with him in mind, that wasn’t just a glorified sleepy time tea, it puts some things in perspective for him. Sure, she’s been a dick to him in the past, but he was a dick too, about her magic. While he isn’t going to start kissing the ground she walks on, he decides then that he’ll be more mindful of her craft. Plus, from the amount of time that they’ve had to spend together in the past two days, she’s tolerable when she isn’t on her high horse about him summoning spirits and ruining the town. She’s even helpful. 

“Thank you,” he repeats, “I really mean it, I appreciate this a lot.” 

Y/N smiles at him and it’s a smile that he’s never been gifted before. A smile that makes him smile back, as she places her elbow on the table and holds out her pinky toward him -- she’s big on pinky swears, he’s finding. 

“We’re looking out for each other, okay? I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine. . .I swear it.” 

Harry locks his pinky with hers without a second thought. 

#WRITING #WOOOOOOOOO #SPOOKY #YAHTZEE #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT BECAUSE I LOVE IT LOADDS #AND I LOVE YOU LOADS #HAPPY READING :D #HARRY STYLES

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 3

PART 1

PART 2

Summary: PART 3 ! of Draco accidentally falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and finally allowing the relationship to blossom! 

Warnings: just the tiniest bit of angst, crying (ofc), Draco sad for a little :(

Words: 7.3K  (THIS IS SO LONG OMG BUT MEMORIES IN ITALICS)

A/N: PART THREEEE !!! I think this is my favorite piece of writing in this series and the LONGEST. I know series start losing an audience after the first part but I hope that those who have been following this enjoy this one as much as I do !  I went off the HBP script bc i wanted Draco to live it up and be happy and playful ! also i do not own gif. 

The sky was a darkening orange, the sun casting its last glowing light of the day as it quickly began to disappear behind the Hogwarts castle. Small birds and other flying creatures passed overhead, going towards their homes in the trees before nightfall, chirping and singing as they did. The sound of wind rustling through leaves from trees and overgrown plants brought a peace in the air between the couple.

Draco turned his head to the side, a soft smile forming on his lips as he observed you. The both of you were on your backs lying on a spot of grass under a small tree, a different tree than the one the two of you had your fall out by a few months prior, requested by you. Draco thought back to a couple weeks ago when you and him had been walking around the outskirts of the school and you had seen it in the distance.

“That tree is cursed,” you muttered bitterly, eyeing it behind Draco’s head. He turned back to look at it and grimaced.

“I’m still terribly sorry about that, love,” he slipped his hand into yours, bringing the pairing up to his lips and gently placing a kiss on your skin. “We’ll find a new spot.”

“Effective immediately,” you nodded in agreement. “Plus, my friends dared me to climb it last year and I fell off and broke my arm and leg. I hate that tree.”

“Arm and leg?!” He stared at you in disbelief, “Merlin’s sake, Y/N, it’s shocking how clumsy you are.”

“You should be glad I’m clumsy,” you retorted, “you wouldn’t have been graced with my presence now if it wasn’t for me tripping into you.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he smiled, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Who would’ve thought that I’d be a fool for the klutz who sprained my finger and busted my lip on two separate occasions before we’ve properly met.”

“On accident!” You exclaimed horrified, stifling a laugh as he did the same.

Your eyes were closed, peacefully allowing yourself to fully bask in the sunlight that was kissing your skin in its golden hues and warmth. Draco turned onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow so he could admire you better. The longer he looked at you, he felt a shiver run down his spine and a foreign queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach appear that he could only describe as tons of tiny blue cornish pixies wreaking havoc on his insides. In simpler terms, butterflies.

“Are you staring at me again, Malfoy?” You hummed quietly, your eyes still closed as you questioned him.

“No, why would I?” He answered with a playful arrogance, the grin on his face widening as your eyebrows furrowed at his answer.

“You’re rude,” you mutter, trying to fight back a smile. “I think I remember you doing the same thing earlier and telling me, and I quote, ‘I can’t believe someone so beautiful is real,’ end quote,” you tried mocking his haughty accent as you quoted him which only earned you a laugh from Draco.

“That sounds nothing like me, you must have me confused with some other poor bloke,” he snickered, a laugh leaving his mouth immediately after. 

Your hand came up and playfully slapped his chest, a smile finally breaking onto your features. “I love hearing you laugh. It makes me happy.”

He slowly leaned over, his face hovering over yours before he leaned down even lower and gently pressed small kisses onto your still closed eyelids, your nose, your forehead and then finally your lips. Your face scrunched after every kiss, except for the last one which you happily returned.

“You make me happy, I have you to thank for the laughs,” he said quietly, his hand reaching up to smooth back the flyaway hairs on your face, “and for several other things. I don’t think I could ever thank you enough.”

You finally open your eyes, peering up at him with a loving gaze. It honestly felt like you had opened your eyes in heaven and an angel was leaning over you, greeting you at the gates of paradise, that angel being the platinum blond boy, his warm gray eyes staring back at you with the same look you had in yours. It was a sight to behold, behind Draco, the sun had gone down, leaving a haze of purple clouds and a pinkish sky, the leaves from the tree above swaying gently in the cooling breeze of dusk. As breathtaking as the scene was, Draco outshines it.

He looked so much more different than he did a little over a month ago, the day he had almost had his meeting with death. His skin had regained some color, he was still pale, but the pink undertones he always used to have had returned. His eyes were a lighter gray, almost a sky blue as they now held a warmth he had been so evidently missing. The bags under his eyes were still there, but not as deep or as dark as they had been before.

A smile reappeared on your face, your palm finding its way to his cheek and resting it there. He leaned into the tender touch, his eyes fluttering closed as he enjoyed the feeling. It felt like a movie, or a book, or a dream, your heart was doing happy flips in your chest as you tried to rationalize how in the world you were in this current position. It was bliss.

“I can’t believe someone so beautiful is real,” you murmur, stealing the compliment he had used on you earlier in the day. Your palm moved up towards his hair, letting your fingers rake through his hair as he smiled.

“Hey, that was my line,” he mumbled.

“No, I got it from some other poor bloke,” you laugh, dropping your hand from his hair. He leaned away from you and lied back down on the grass, an exaggerated sigh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes.

“He sounds dodgy, you should probably stay away from him.”

You rolled over on your stomach and onto Draco’s side, your head falling over his chest as his arm underneath you came up to rest on your lower back. You looked up at him, straining your neck so that your lips could meet his. He lifted his head up slightly, meeting you halfway. Like every time you kissed him, the world around you stopped and it was like every single good thing in the world came together in that one moment. You could always feel the love in his kisses, wordlessly letting you know how much he adored you and cared for you. Just as he could tell the same with yours. 

You pulled away, opening your eyes to see his slowly flutter open. Both of you holding that same dazed and dopey in love look that was there every time your lips left his.

“I could never stay away from him.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Draco let out an irritated huff, marching his way down to the dungeons with his robe billowing around his legs with purpose, similar to how the long and greasy raven haired professor’s often flailed about.

Speaking of said professor, Draco was headed towards Snape’s office after receiving word from one of his Slytherin friends that their Head of House had requested him. The idea of talking to Snape right now made him feel dizzy, knowing full and well he was going to be reminded of his painful duties and be ripped out of the short-lived paradise he has been living in recently.

He didn’t want to leave his bliss, at all. He even neglected mending the vanishing cabinet for a while just so he could put all his attention and efforts on you, something he found to be much more important and rewarding. The plans for Dumbledore, especially, strayed even further from his mind as if they didn’t even exist to him at all.

When he reached the office, the door was already open and he saw Snape standing over his desk, looking down at some papers he had scattered over the old battered wooden surface.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape acknowledged lowly, not looking up from the papers, “close the door behind you and have a seat.”

Draco walked in slowly, taking in a deep breath and did as he was told, shutting the heavy wooden door once he forced himself to go inside. He made his way over to one of the empty chairs near the desk and begrudgingly sat down, letting out quietly the shaky breath of air he was holding in. This was the last place he wanted to be.

“Tell me, Draco,” the Professor finally looked up from his papers to give Draco a pointed look, “how is the vanishing cabinet coming along?”

“Fine.”

“Is that so?” He drawled out accusingly, taking short and careful steps around the desk. “Would you say it is able to transport individuals successfully?”

“I haven’t quite gotten it there yet, Professor,” Draco answered weakly, letting his eyes wander around the room and looking at all the different jars lined up against the walls just so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

“With that information, it appears to me then, that it is not fine.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Hardly,” Snape sneers, stepping even closer to the chair the cowering boy was sitting in. “Do you think me a fool, Draco? Do you think that I do not know what you have been doing with all of your time? I see that look in your eyes, you’re in love, and stupidly so.”

Draco fearfully looked up at him, seeing a rage beginning to build up in the black of his professor’s eyes. He stayed silent, the sound of his heart rapidly thumping against his chest was the only thing he could hear. It felt as if he were going to explode with panic.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor,” Draco lied through his teeth, locking eyes with the man as he stared him down.

Before he could blink, Snape had taken one long stride towards him, placing both hands on either side of the arms of the chair, Draco immediately leaning as far back as he could as his big-nosed teacher got in his face.

“Don’t lie to me, boy!” He snarled, “I know what love looks like.”

Draco was breathing hard now, his chest rising and falling painfully as his heart began to beat impossibly faster.

“This is no time for fun and games, especially for love,” he grabbed Draco’s left arm, forcefully rolling up his sleeve and flashing the skin upwards towards the blond’s face, “I’m afraid all of that ended the moment you had taken this mark.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he cried, the Dark Mark was staring angrily at him and he twisted his arm out of the hard grasp it was in, rapidly pushing his sleeve down again so he wouldn’t have to look at it any longer.

“You don’t have a choice!” Snape stepped away from him and looked down at the boy who was quickly breaking down before him. “Your fate and that of your parents, is on the line. Eventually, it will be Miss Y/L/N’s fate in that position as well. There is only so much I can do to help you, Draco. Remind yourself that the Dark Lord doesn’t tolerate or take kindly to any sort of foolery.”

Draco shook violently with tears and anger, his head falling into his hands as all his realities began to hit him all at once. This is exactly the pain he was trying to avoid. He knew he would have to face it again eventually, but not this soon. He figured he would have more time with you. More time to live in the fantasy that left him feeling so euphoric when he got to his dorm at night after a long day of classes with you filling up the spaces in between. He wished he had more time to enjoy his love, the love that was so beautiful and light, so effortless. He wished he had more time to be happy. 

Now here he was, stuck on a path he couldn’t change or control. A path that was forced upon him and had no choice or decision he could make. He often wonders what his life would be like now, if the Dark Lord never came back, his father never went to Azkaban, he never quit quidditch, his mind never tainted in evil plans for murder and destruction. He often imagines that life. He imagines you, waiting for him after a quidditch game, cheeks rosy from the frosty wind that whipped around the stands, smiling up at him so beautifully as he proudly took you into his arms after he caught the Golden Snitch and won Slytherin the Quidditch cup. He would be going to an after party at the common room, everyone praising him and his skills and being jealous of him and the girl on his arm.

He didn’t see it, but Snape gave him a small empathetic look, remembering his own pain and loss at the hands of Voldermort.

“I suggest for you to shift your focus to the more important matters at hand, Mr. Malfoy,” Snape says in a low voice. “You may leave.”

Draco roughly wiped away his tears before he jumped up from the chair and rushed towards the door, pushing it open with his body as he nearly ran out of the dungeons and up towards the Great Hall where dinner was being served. 

Once he entered the hall, his eyes searched for you at your house table, knowing you’d be there with your friends. His eyes scanned up and down the rows a good two times before he finally saw you, throwing your head back in laughter as everyone talked. The pure joy on your face made him feel the tiniest bit lighter and his breathing a fraction easier. 

Your friend noticed him first, tapping your arm vigorously as she pointed in his direction. You turned, your eyes meeting his frazzled ones and you frowned when you realized he had been crying. You threw your napkin down onto the table, hastily slipping out of your seat as you took quick long strides over to him. When you got to him, you slipped your hand into his and walked the two of you out of the hall in a hurry and headed into an empty corridor.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice laced and dripping with worry and concern as your hands reached up to cup his face. “Are you okay?”

Draco let the tears fall again, crying even harder at the your question. He was not okay and soon, neither were you going to be. On his way to you, he made a decision to do something. It was dumb and reckless, but in his mind, he knew it had to be said and done. If there was any sliver of a chance in the future where the two of you lived somewhere near happily ever after, he knew he couldn’t get there if he kept lying to you.

“Y/N, I need to tell you something,” he croaked out, “and you’re not going to like it.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The silence surrounding the top of the astronomy tower was thick and dreadful. The faint moonlight above Hogwarts had cast ghostly shadows onto your faces and illuminated the grimaces you both shared. A cold and bitter wind passed through, picking at and numbing the exposed skin that neither of you cared to acknowledge. You sat on the floor across from him, an empty look filled with tears pooling in your wide eyes. He had told you everything. He pleaded for you to say something, to react, but you couldn’t. You just sat there, frozen and mumbling an almost incoherent ‘I need to think.’

Out of all the things you expected him to tell you, this was not one of them.

It all finally made sense to you. The broken down and erratic state he has been in for months on end was for a very obvious reason now. It was hard for you to grasp at first, wondering how he could ever agree to be a part of something that was so dark and evil. Your mind temporarily mourned the boy, feeling as though that it was over for you two. But the longer you thought, the more it became clear to you that this was in fact, not his choice. It was the first thing he even said to you before he told you about his status as a Death Eater and all the dreadful things he has to accomplish.

And as you stared deeply into his pained eyes, you knew it was true. The Draco you had fallen in love with and are still just as in love with, was the same one sitting before you. Sharing something with you that could potentially jeopardize his life, his family’s life and everything else for the worst. He had trusted you with his darkest and most deepest secret. And it took you less than five minutes to process it all, your final thoughts coming together calmly and without hesitation.

“This doesn’t change anything for me,” you say finally, scooting yourself closer to him and taking his hands in yours. “I still love you all the same.”

A breath of relief left his lips, a sharp and painful ache in his heart suddenly easing drastically the second he heard your words. It was the same relief someone feels when waking up from a nightmare or just bad dream in general, a tranquility settling in that none of it was real and you can let your mind relax.

“But you must see me differently now then?” he then asked with a frown, his relief leaving his body again as his mind hit him with all sorts of pessimistic thoughts and ideas. “I’m not as good as you thought me to be.”

“I do see you differently,” you placed a finger under his chin, gently moving his face so that he could look in your eyes and you noticed the hurt that flashed in his storming gray’s. “I see now that you’re so brave, and so strong. I think it takes a lot of courage to be in your situation and not lose yourself completely. The weight of the world is on your shoulders, but you’re still you and you should be proud of that. You are just as good as I thought you to be.”

He blinked back the tears that had gathered and pricked at his eyes, his hand reaching up gently onto the back of your head as he leaned forward so that now your foreheads were resting against each other. 

“You really are the best thing that has ever happened to me, you know that?” He states quietly. He placed a kiss on the space between your eyebrows, letting his lips linger intimately as the two of you relished in the feeling of being so close to one another, mind and body. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeated affectionately.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

Weeks had gone by in a blur since the night at the astronomy tower, your relationship with Draco had only grown deeper and more meaningful since then. Instead of the ill-fated news tearing you apart, it brought you more closer together than you could have ever imagined. It was as if your souls were finally bare to one another, meeting and embracing each other lovingly on the astral planes.

The dynamic had changed, but only for the greater good as you had encouraged him to spend as much time as he could on the vanishing cabinet. It wasn’t like you wanted him to fix it, but you knew it would come at a great cost if he didn’t so he needed to. You thought back to a couple days after he had told you his duties, frowning at the remembrance of the shame in his voice as he explained everything to you.

“I think I’ll just leave it to rot in the room of requirement,” he muttered bitterly, his eyes focused on his thumb running over the softness of your knuckles. “I’ll just set it on fire and say it was an accident.”

“As much as I’d love for you to do that,” you sigh, “it would be like sentencing yourself to torture and death.”

Draco chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “I’m already headed there.”

“No,” you interject, “you’re not.”

He stayed quiet, trying to get the painful images out of his head that his mind was currently putting on display for him. No matter how many times you told him, he was never able to fully get rid of his pessimistic thoughts.

“He is going to find a way in, eventually,” you lean your head onto his shoulder and he tilts his head to the side so that it rests against yours. “It might as well be you who does it. You need to get onto his good side and from what you’ve told me, it’s only obvious he’s wary of your family.”

“He doesn’t have a good side,” he scowled. “He currently has my father locked in Azkaban, my mother in distress, and me doing his dirty work from within this school. He’s more than wary of us, he’s punishing us already.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He sighs, squeezing your hand back.

“It’s alright, love, nothing I can do about it anyways,” he trails off sadly. “But you’re right, I have to do it. I have to fix it.”

From then on, he had split his free time between mending the cabinet and being with you. It was hard for him as it was for you, but either of you knew there was no other way.

You were sitting by yourself next to the Black Lake, hugging your knees to your chest as you mindlessly played with the overgrown weeds you were sitting in. Your wand danced over a patch of dead flowers, wordlessly casting a spell you had learned in Professor Sprout’s class that brought life back into the wilted daisies.

You missed your favorite Slytherin, still not used to not the sudden changes in his schedule that kept him away from you. Your friends obviously kept you company, but there were times like this when you just wanted to be alone and sulk. And sometimes always, you just really missed Draco.

All you wanted at the moment was to hear his laughter, to feel his arms wrap around yours and give you gentle kisses all around your face as you giggled underneath him. To hear him whisper to you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you. It was like a cliche love story that you couldn’t get enough of, it was your life. And you never knew that those same stories you always laughed and made fun of but secretly deeply desired, would come into fruition with Draco Malfoy, the boy you’d had a crush on since third year who never even knew you existed until this year.

Despite everything life had thrown at the two of you in these short but also long months, you had formed something so intense and real that most people would never get to experience, especially someone your age.

You heard a faint flapping of wings get louder as it approached, the shadow of a familiar owl appeared from behind you and you turned to look at it. It was Aquila, Draco’s beautiful and large eagle owl swooping over you before landing in front of you, dropping a letter at your feet. You gave her a little pat on the head, and she closed her eyes gently before she backed away and flew off back towards the owlery.

You unrolled the small piece of parchment and smiled as you read it. 

Just broke something in the room of requirement for tripping over it and it reminded me of you. Now I can’t stop thinking of you. I’m rushing to finish now, I’ll see you soon. xx DM

The parchment was rolled back up and tucked into the pocket of your robe, a happy sigh slipping past your lips as you rested your chin on your knees. Your eyes landed on some familiar glowing fishes in the water near you from a few days ago and you allowed your mind to slip into the memory, yet again.

Draco lied across your lap, your fingers dancing around in his hair as he hummed in content. He loved it when you did that and you always made sure to play with it any chance you got when the blond mop was vulnerable to you.

He had met up with you after a shower and skipped styling his hair, the platinum strands freely going in their natural direction of falling over his forehead. You ran your hand towards his ends, pushing and slicking them back into his old signature hairstyle from when he was little. 

A laugh tumbled from your lips at the sight and he peered up at you, rolling his eyes when he realized why you thought it was funny and sitting up to flatten his hair back down.

“You think my hair is funny, do you?” He accused with a pointed look, but you noticed the laugh that he was trying to hold back. You shook your head ‘no’ while still laughing and he finally smiled. 

He lurched forward, playfully and gently tackling you down into a fluffy bed of dandelions, a ridiculous amount of the puffs from the flowers flying up into the air around you and into the dark night sky. He attacked your collarbones with kisses, your shoulders, up your neck and then your lips. You loved when he would do that, leaving multiple lingering kisses along your skin so he made sure to do it any chance he got, just as you did the same with playing with his hair. 

After he was done snogging you, he sat up again and pulled you up with him, a comfortable silence falling between you two. The comfort only lasted a minute or two before a thought had trickled its way into your head as your hands sat over his forearms. 

“Can I see it?” you asked quietly, afraid of sounding insensitive or offending him you immediately added, “only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

Draco followed your gaze onto his arm and he stiffened, his blood all of a sudden feeling cold in his body. Not once since he’d gotten the mark has he looked at it for longer than a couple seconds, absolutely loathing the fact that it was permanently etched into his skin. He was hesitant, wondering if you would be disgusted by it and him, but you looked at him with such a genuine concern and curiosity that he couldn’t say no.

He fiddled with his sleeve a little, rolling it up towards his elbow and facing the mark towards you so that you could observe it. Instead of looking at it, he looked only at you and your facial expressions, he wanted to see exactly what you thought in the eyes that were the window to the soul.

The mark looked as if it were a scar, it rose a little bit above the rest of his milky skin, angry and swollen. Your fingers ghosted above it, Draco shivering underneath the closeness of your touch. He felt your hand tenderly stroke the mark, your finger tracing its outline with a delicate pressure. The next thing you did was lean down, delicately and lovingly placing a kiss onto something that only represented hate and evil. The complete opposite of everything that you were.

“This doesn’t define you, Dray,” you say warmly as you pull away. “I know you hate it and I know it hurts to see it. But it’s not you. And one day, it might be so faint that it’ll just be a reminder of how you survived and got through the most difficult point of your life.”

He nodded, staying silent as he took in your words. They made him feel better because if that what was you believed, who was he to say it was wrong? He desperately wanted your words to be true, so he happily accepted them and let them relax the part of his mind that constantly doubted himself.

You rolled down his sleeve for him before settling yourself onto his lap and pulling him into a hug. His hands rested themselves on your lower back, one almost slipping down onto your butt before you reached behind you and raised his hand back up as he snickered. He let his head lie against your chest, the even and soft thumping of your heart calming him instantly and he sighed, pressing a kiss into the exposed skin above your shirt.

You reached down beside you and plucked two dandelions from the ground, holding them up and twirling them around in your fingers.

“Muggles like to say that if you make a wish on a dandelion and blow on it, your wish will come true,” you hum, making him look up at you in confusion.

“That sounds ridiculous,” he mumbles. You give him one of the dandelions and smile.

“You never know until you try,” you raised an eyebrow before giving him one. He eyed it with doubt and you pouted, silently pleading for him to do it with you. “Just close your eyes, think of your wish and blow.”

He waited until you squinted your eyes shut, he didn’t, but as he watched you he wordlessly made his wish. He wished that he could have moments like this with you for the rest of his life, moments of loving nirvana. Ironically, you had wished for the exact same thing.

When you opened your eyes, you blew onto the flower and he did the same with his. The both of you watched the fluffs flail about in the wind around you until they were carried higher and higher up into the starry night sky and out of your sights. You held the boy underneath you tighter against you and he followed, his hand again trying to land on your butt but you stopping it again and both of you laughing.

“What did you wish for?” He asked, the question muffled against your sweater.

“If I tell you then it won’t come true.”

“That’s rubbish.”

The afternoon was fleetingly turning into evening, the sun beginning its descent behind Hogwarts and a number of thick clouds had formed in the sky that blocked the beautiful orange sunsets you loved.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Draco announced his presence from behind you, a weird tone in his voice as he approached you. He plopped himself down beside you and gave you a long affectionate kiss before pulling away from you with a half-hearted smile. 

“You seem very cheery,” you teased, poking his frown with your finger before forcing his lips up into a smile and he let out an airy chuckle. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you want the bad news or good news first?”

“Bad.”

“I think I’ve finally fixed the cabinet.” He said suddenly.

“Oh,” was all you could say as you processed his accomplishment. His hand reached for yours, interlocking your fingers with his as he anxiously waited for your answer. “So what’s going to happen next?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he answers honestly. “I suppose I’ll let Snape know and then eventually You-Know-Who will become aware. But I don’t know what chaos lies ahead. I don’t even know if it’s fully mended, I’m waiting until tomorrow to test it out.”

“Why not today?” you ask quietly. You felt your hand beginning to nervously sweat in his as each second of silence passed by.

“I wanted to have one last normal day,” he looks up at you and smiles faintly. You return it even though you felt as though you were nearly about to empty out your stomach from earlier’s lunch. “Before everything changes.”

“So then, what’s the good news?” You desperately wanted to change the topic, hoping that his good news would be enough to ease your panicked mined for the moment and luckily, it did.

“You and I are spending all day and night together,” he responds happily.

“Who said that’s good news?” you eye him mockingly, a goofy smirk making its way onto your lips, your mood improving instantly as you thought of the next 24 hours with your love. He gaped at you in fake shock, blinking slowly as he tried to come up with a comeback that would stump you.

“You know what, Y/L/N, perhaps I’ll ask Pansy instead, she’s been rather fond of me again lately,” he snickers, a look of horror replacing your previous teasing. 

“Absolutely not!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren’t aware of how sleepy you were until you had gotten back to Hogwarts, a clock on a faraway wall in the dungeons displayed 1:11 AM. You were stopped right outside the Slytherin common room, Draco pinning you up against a wall as his lips passionately and lovingly danced with yours. Your hands were tangled in his ridiculously soft hair as he gripped onto your hips tightly. 

This was the way the two of you should have been living, every day, stupidly in love like teenagers and having fun.

The whole day had gone by in a flash. Draco had taken you out for an evening stroll around Hogsmeade, stopping at The Three Broomsticks for butterbeer and food where you talked about everything and anything, avoiding any negatives completely and only talking of childhood memories from home and school or of funny stories that had come to mind. He had then taken you to a small jewelry shop where you admired every piece of gem in there and basically begged Draco not to buy you anything which he repeatedly tried to argue against. 

Somewhere along the line, you found a small group of stray cats, dragging Draco by his hand to the little bundle of kittens hidden in a hollowed tree stump. One hissed at the two of you, backing far into the corner of the the stump as it protected the rest of its siblings behind it.

You had reached into your pocket, getting out your wand and pointing it towards the ground in front of them and whispering some spell Draco had never heard of. Suddenly, a small pile of cat food had appeared in a heap on the ground and the two of you watched as the leader of the litter had began to inspect it.

“Where did you learn that?” he laughs in astonishment as the kittens began to hurriedly munch on it.

“I found it in a book about cats in the library one day while I was bored,” you said with a sheepish smile. “Nice to know it came in handy.”

You then began walking around again, this time further away from the castle and the little village and more near the Forbidden Forest. This was the Hogwarts equivalent of long romantic walks along the beach. It was there where you found a small cliff and sat down to rest with your legs dangling wildly over the edge.

“With your track record, you should reconsider the way you’re sitting, darling,” Draco chuckles, his eyes peering over the edge and into the dark and rocky surfaces below before as he shuddered in fear.

“Relax,” you say, pushing yourself back from your spot and standing up before looking up at him. “You really think I’m that clumsy that I’ll fall off a cli-”

Draco reached out for you before he could even process that a chunk of the cliff had given out from underneath you as you stood. You fell into his embrace, the both of you staring down in terror at the tumbling piece of earth, watching it crash and explode as it hit a sharp boulder below. Draco let out a breath of relief, giving you a ‘I told you so’ look.

“Yeah, alright,” you nodded. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”

So now here you two were, still snogging in the dungeons without a care in the world. You were so wrapped up in each other that you hardly noticed the sound of Filch approaching nearby, the sound of his lantern accidentally falling behind a corridor made you finally rip away from the kissing, looking in the direction of the noise.

“It’s Filch!” you hiss before pushing Draco towards the entrance of the common room. He quickly said the password and slipped the two of you inside once the stone had opened up, quietly laughing to each other as you heard Filch yell a distant, ‘students out of bed!’

Draco wasted no time in taking your hand and sneaking you into his Prefect room, the both of you haphazardly tumbling inside out of panic when you had seen another Slytherin passing by somewhere near the staircase to the room. You landed into the room with a ‘thud’ and Draco underneath you with his face twisted in that of pain.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me I’ve done it again,” you scattered off of him, grabbing onto his hand that he had landed on with too much force as he tried to stop both of your falls. His wrist was staring to swell up a strong pink and then red as you felt around the bone.

“You’ve done it again,” he laughs quietly through the pain at seeing your reaction. You gave him a scowl before reaching for your wand at drawing it at his injury.

He admired you as you handled his wrist with the same caring and tender touch that you gave him the last times you had healed him from the accidental trips of fate that had been thrown onto him, literally.

You breathed out a quick, “episkey,” and let relief wash over you as his sprained wrist healed to its original glory and he flexed it back and forth just for your benefit.

“Thank you, my little personal healer and injurer,” he stood up, pulling you with him and gave you a tight embrace that you lazily returned with an exaggerated frown.

“On accident!”

“I’m only joking, love,” he chuckles before giving you a kiss that made up for his teasing. “Also, I got you something.”

You raised an eyebrow, stepping away from him as he reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a small velvet rectangular box before handing it to. You took it in your shaky hands, opening it up to be greeted with a glittering silver band bracelet, glowing green emerald jewels going all around it. You gasped at its beauty, pulling it out of its box as you looked up at Draco as he beamed at you.

“I know you said not to buy anything, but I had to.”

You flung yourself into his arms, kissing him all over his face as he laughed from underneath you.

“I love it, Dray,” you gleamed, carefully slipping the band onto your wrist. “Thank you.”

He nodded, smiling to himself at satisfaction that he had gotten something for you at the jewelry shop even though you insisted that he didn’t, he couldn’t help himself. Eventually, he thought, he would be adding a diamond ring to your new collection of expensive accessories from him.

You let your attention focus onto the space around you, it was dark and a little disorganized seeing as he was hardly ever in there now, only to sleep. You had been in his room plenty of times recently to talk or if he was feeling upset but this was the first time you were going to actually sleep through the night with him. You weren’t even prepared for the impromptu slumber party, but it didn’t bother you all too much as your boyfriend passed you one of his sleeping shirts and shorts. 

When you clambered into bed with him, legs entangled and bodies pressed up against each other, you sighed sleepily in content. You laid in silence, the sound of steady breathing and a tick and tock of a clock nearly sending you into a deep sleep while you admired the new bracelet on your wrist until your brain started conjuring up thoughts of the very near future.

“It’s all going to be different now, isn’t it?” you mumbled. 

He waited a moment before responding, the same thoughts began to run through his mind and he sighed, letting out a breathless, “yes.”

There was another moment of silence, a painfully quiet one as now the both of you had started to think and torture yourselves even further.

“I’m scared,” you whisper timidly, the grip you had on Draco’s shirt got tighter.

“I am too,” his head turned to meet your eyes, the same wide eye look being held in them that he’s been seeing a lot of that day. “But I promise that no matter what happens, I’m always going to love you. Forever.”

Tears had accidentally slipped from your watery eyes and you buried your face in his neck to inhale his scent to calm yourself down. It was weird in theory, but there was something about the mix of his cologne and minty smelling soap that relaxed your whole body from whatever would be bothering you.

“I say this all the time,” he started again, his hand mindlessly played with your hair as he spoke. “But thank you, for helping me, healing me and not just on the outside. I owe you so much and I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you cried relentlessly now, “so, so much.”

Draco stayed quiet, his own tears falling now but he didn’t want to make the moment sadder than it already was, so he sucked it up and gave the top of your head a long and amorous kiss while you cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It was morning, a heavy set of clouds rested over the castle in an eerie and gloomy way. You took it as a sign that everything was going to end up that way, dark and melancholic. It was sad, being the only two people as of right now who knew what was coming to Hogwarts in maybe a couple hours or days time. But there was nothing you could do but hope for the best and silently place your hope that Harry Potter would save the day as he somehow always did. You didn’t dare tell Draco that, however and as much as you disliked Harry for nearly killing your lover not too long ago, you needed to believe that there was hope for a future with no Voldermort.

You walked timidly behind Draco as he guided you to the room of requirement. Your eyes were glued to the back of his perfectly styled head and iron pressed black suit and if you weren’t in such upsetting circumstances, you would have let yourself admire him longer, but you couldn’t quite focus on anything other than what lied ahead.

He had asked you to come with him to test the vanishing cabinet, wanting your support as he brought life to the thing that would bring destruction to the beloved school. You stood quietly, watching the very large doors of the room appear on the wall as Draco called for it silently. 

You had never been in the room before and that was apparent when you looked at everything in awe, seeing all the forgotten artifacts and knickknacks for the first time that were piled onto each other for miles on end. He lead you through the maze of objects until you stopped at a tall and ashy gray run down wardrobe, his other hand grabbing onto the corner of the drape that was feebly covering it and pulled it down in one swift motion causing a pile of dust to fly into the air around you, making you feel suffocated all of a sudden as you stared at the revealed cabinet. 

He let go of your hand, reaching into the pocket of his blazer as he pulled out a small green apple to place inside the middle of the cabinet. You watched carefully as he closed the doors of it and pressed his wand up against the opening, his eyes fluttering closed as he thought of the spell.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus,” a small whooshing sound passed and Draco opened his eyes to check if the apple was still behind the doors. The apple was gone, and your heart sank in fear. This was it. He took one deep breath before shutting the doors closed and placing his wand against them once again. 

“Harmonia Nectere Passus,” he whispered, “Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The whooshing sound came back and he slowly grabbed the handle of one of the doors, his hand reaching inside of the cabinet and pulling something out. He turned around to face you, his skin paling in fear, the apple was back in his hand and as he turned it, you spotted the new clean bite around its side.

You inhaled sharply, your heart thumping rapidly as you realized what this meant. 

“You fixed it.”

PART 4

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[mrskittythulhu]

Red Feathers of a chance encounter

part 1  part3  part4

  Wattpad

(18+) Hawks + fem (y/n) 

It had been a few months since your wild encounter with Dabi. All the marks he left on your body have now faded away. His touch, his taste and his dark voice became nothing more than a memory you wish you could move on from. Despite the new rumors that circulated about you when you came home disheveled something did remain the same, your ‘hero’ ex-boyfriend still kept tabs on you.

One benefit from your night with Dabi was that your Ex finally got the hint that the relationship was over. Word quickly got around about how you ‘cheated’ on your boyfriend or some wild spin like that. This gave you the opportunity to tell others how it was over and finally people listed even if they reacted poorly towards you. You would rather be hated for something you did than be hated for the lies he created around you.

For a couple of weeks things were quiet. No messages, no extra heroes ‘patrolling’ your neighborhood and best of all you had not seen your Ex. Life became simple go to work, stop at the corner store on days you needed food, then home. Unfortunately, nothing good can last forever.

At first you thought you were being overly paranoid when you got jumpy overshadows moving in the corner of your eyes. At night you would hear rattling outside your window despite your apartment being high up on the fifth floor. Your uncomfortable feelings became validated when you were walking home from work you noticed your Ex leaning on the wall of a nearby building. He was in his hero uniform acting like he was on patrol, but you knew he was watching you again. This was his typical intimidation tactic. When you locked eyes with him, he winked then started walking away.

Weekend finally arrived and you had a free day to unwind. Tired of feeling cooped up inside your apartment you took your book to the near by park. After a short walk you found yourself peacefully seated under a tree in the center of the park. The distant sound of wildlife and children playing echoed around you.

Twenty minutes into your peaceful reading a shadow loomed over you. Feeling the ominous presence of someone hovering over you, slowly you looked up to be face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

“Fuck”, you cursed quietly to yourself as you met is smug expression. He even had the nerve to show up in his hero uniform. Another one of his classic intimidation tactics. He knew that if you drew attention in anyway, he could claim you were hysterical and as a ‘hero’ he was just there to ‘help’. This forced all public conversations to stay quiet leaving you, once again, defenseless.

“Hi there (Y/N) been a while I missed you so much.” His smile was bright as if he had rehearsed in a mirror for hours before finding you here.   “I know we have had some misunderstandings but I’m willing to forgive you for cheating on me because I’m such a standup guy.”

“First of all,” you slammed your book shut and quickly stood to your feet. “Hard to miss someone when you stalk them.” You felt your body shaking from the adrenaline rush, but you needed to get these pent-up words out.  “Two I don’t miss you and lastly, I didn’t cheat on you I dumped you months ago you narcissistic creep.”

You knew your voice was louder than it needed to be and at this point you didn’t care if other people listed in. After living without this walking garbage in your life you refused to go back to how things were before.  Quickly taking the opportunity to walk away you started walking towards the playground. If he wanted to cause a commotion he could try and do it where families could see how he really was.

A tight gloved grip squeezed around your arm. You instinctively started to pull away from him and shout for help. For a brief moment you locked eyes with a woman sitting on a bench by the playground. Your ex kept telling you to quiet down but that only prompted you to scream louder for help. Fear filled your body at the thought of being stuck any longer with this man. Tears pricked at your eyes as your voice became strained from screaming. Frustration took over as you realized no one around you was coming to help.  

Suddenly a ribbon of red swirled around the both of you. The distraction was enough for him to let go of your body. Losing your footing you stumbled to the ground. While sitting there you looked back at your ex who was busy swatting at what looked like red feathers attacking him. A strange loud flapping noise pulled your attention in the opposite direction. Before you could even process anything that was going on your legs lunged you off the ground and into the arms of another man.

The smell of sandalwood quickly filled your nose. A gentle hand wiped at your tears and slowly lifted your face up towards theirs. Golden eyes with sharp black eyeline looked back down at you. A small smile with light facial hair on his chin. Wild windblown blond hair and large bright crimson red wings behind him.

Very suddenly the realization hit you that you were in the arms of the heart throb number 2 hero HAWKS. Your eyes went wide, mouth agape, and cheeks began to burn from sudden embarrassment. His deep husky chuckle was like music to your ears and in that hypnotizing moment was the only thing you could hear. The arm he held you with squeezed you just a bit tighter to his body causing your breast to press into him.

“What the hell Hawks?” your Ex yelled out with rage.  “What are you even doing here this isn’t your territory?”

“Well, when you become a top hero like me EVERY area is your ‘territory’ and why wouldn’t I respond to the cry of this lovely chickadee in distress.” The sweet expression quickly turned dark as hawks was now glairing at your ex. His hold on you was firm but protective. With how close you were to him; you could hear the rustle of his feathers as if he was preparing to use them.

“This is just a lover’s… spat. No reason for you to involve yourself.” You squeezed into the sides of Hawks hoping he wouldn’t believe the lies from your Ex’s mouth. “So just hand her over and fly on by.” Your Ex started to make a shooing motion with his hand. His smug over confidence was pouring out the more he talked. He began spewing out the same lines he used every time someone tried to involve themselves in your public displays with him.

Soft knuckles trailed down your cheek leading to a gentle thumb stroking along your jaw line. His sweet smile was back as he looked down at you.

“Chickadee are you the lover to this angry gorilla?” His words were so gentle, but you could hear the sarcasm in his voice. Being pressed firmly to his muscular chest you were able to feel the rumble of his quiet laughter. His golden eyes sparkled in the light of the sun as he looked down at your shy expression.

“N-no,” you quickly cleared your throat to speak with more confidence. “I dumped him months ago, but he won’t leave me alone.” This was it. This felt like you last chance to have someone believe you about how awful your ex really is.

You felt one of Hawks wings protectively wrap around you as your Ex started to lose his cool. “Dumped me!” Your ex faked a laugh as he started to pace about with his hand flailing in the air. “You cheated on me with that murderous villain.”

Shock filled your body as you looked up to the winged here with wide eyes. He was glairing hard at your ex with unwavering focus on the man erratic movements. You curled into his side more as your ex began to call you a slew of unsavory names. Near by parents began to cover their children’s ears and move away from your drama. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes as you took in his harsh words, but Hawks remained as still as stone.

“So, as you can see your just wasting your time so just hand her over to me.”  Your ex had his palm out eagerly waiting for you to be turned over to him.

“I don’t think so.” Hawks’ words were blunt. You felt his arm wrap around your waist tighter the movement hidden from your ex’s view by his wing.

“Then I’ll take her back by force.” Your ex balled his fist and lunged towards the both of you. Red feathers swiftly propelled the both of you into the air. Once high enough out of reach Hawks sent a wave of feathers towards your Ex within seconds he was pinned to the ground. He continued to curse and scream out until a large red feather covered his mouth muffling his rant.

“You can just stay there until police come and explain yourself to them.” His large wings began to flap hard as he started to fly away from the park. “How about we get you some place safe for now, chickadee.” You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck. He chuckled at your movements while taking out a phone with his free hand. He had a short conversation with who you assumed was the police on the other end where he explained that a hero went rogue in the park.

After a short flight he gently landed on your balcony. Slowly you unwrapped yourself from Hawks body instantly missing his protective touch. You walked over to the sliding door feeling thankful that because you lived so high up you left the door unlocked. While opening the door you missed the inquisitive look that flashed over Hawks face as he watched you.

“Can I offer you something to drink.” You felt awkward about the whole interaction and very uncertain about what to say. I’m sure you have many things you want to ask me after ... well, that.” You shrugged and averted your eyes before walking into the kitchen. Hawks sent a few feathers around your small apartment while your back was turned. When you reached the sink to fill a class with water you looked over to see him plop onto your sofa.

“Is it true chickadee?” He leaned back with his arms behind his head. You could see the grooves of his abs through his thin tight shirt. He placed his feet up onto your coffee table and for a moment you wondered when he had the chance to take off his shoes. His golden eyes watched you walk back into the room.

“Is what true?” You felt hesitant as you handed him a glass of water. His gaze on you felt intimidating like a lion watching over their pray. His smile was deceptively bright and kind. You sat in a on the sofa next to him with as much space you could make between the two of you. Slowly you started to sip on your water. Hawks pretended to drink from his cup before placing it on the coffee table.

“Are you really dating a villain?” You spit out your water and began to cough. Hawks’ deep chuckles echoed alongside your gasping. He pulled you closer to him as he lightly rubbed your back.

You took a breath in as you shook your head ‘no’ to his question. “No -No,” You sternly said. I had a one-night stand a while back but at the time I didn’t know the guy was a villain and I later went to the police about him. I did that after that poor kid was kidnapped and my ex found out about who I slept with from his cop friends.” You started to avoid eye contact with Hawks as quilt over being with Dabi took over.

“You seem to have really bad luck with men, chickadee.” The hand that was resting on your back snaked around to gently stroke up and down your arm. You felt comforted by him and the tears you held in started to come out as relief filled you. He pulled you into a side hug as his free hand wiped away your tears. “Don’t waste your tears on that gorilla.” He gently led your chin up to face him.

There was a pregnant silence as he locked eyes with you. Your blush became intense as you realized the hottie Hawks was in your apartment holding you close to him. “Does that mean you’re single, chickadee?” there was a slight purr to his voice.

“Yess- I’m, I’m single.”  His thumb gently stroked along your jaw line as he kept your focus on him. Your legs stated to rub together, and the subtle shift caused a smug smirk to cross his face.

Hawks slowly leaned in closer to your face tilting, so his breath fanned your ear. “How about I show you want its like to be with a real hero?” When he noticed his sultry words caused you to smile, he lightly rand his nose across your cheek. He pulled his face back away, so you were able to look into his lust filled eyes. His hand was now holding your chin in place dominating your movements. “I need an answer Chickadee... if you want me to continue that is.”

You started to nod your head ‘yes’. Hawks held your face tighter stopping your movements and pulled your face closer to his. His nose lightly grazed yours. “I need words chickadee,” his voice was a sultry deep whisper next to your lips.

“Y-Yes, I…” before you could finish what you wanted to say Hawks crashed his lips on to yours. He pulled away slightly and slipped his thumb into your mouth pulling out your tongue. For only a second you could see the primal lust in his eyes before he started to dominate the inside of your mouth with his tongue.

He smoothly slid you to straddle his lap while still aggressively kiss you. You could hear his feathers fluttering as you both adjusted. His hand tightly gripped your hips as he helped grind you over the thick hard bulge in his pants. You broke the kiss letting out a wonton moan from the sensation. One hand left your hip and started to gently cup your face. On instinct you nuzzled into his hand.

“Such a good girl, (Y/N). My beautiful chickadee.” His praise caused butterflies to spin in the pit of your stomach. His gentle touch caused goose bumps on your skin and each wet kiss left a chill from the air. Blinded by your own lust you were unable to notice when Hawks slit his hand along your clothed slit. “You’re so wet already.” A small squeak escaped you as your face showed your embarrassment at his discovery. You started to stutter out a failed excuse when he quickly began to shush you. “I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth unless it’s moaning. So how about we take this to a place that’s a bit more comfortable, yeah?”

Even though he had asked you a question it turned out to be rhetorical. He scooped your legs around his waist as he stood up. His hand sneaking large handfuls of your butt with rough squeezes as he walked. His deep kiss distracted you from the fact he knew exactly where he was going in your apartment despite it being the first time he was there.

Your butt gently bounced on the mattress. When he stood before you the only question you had was ‘when did he take off his shirt?’ You didn’t get much time to ponder your thought when his feather lifted your shirt from your body.

His fingers lased into your hair with the other hand deeply massaging one of your breasts as he deeply kissed you. Slowly he leaned you to lay flat on your back with your legs dangling over the edge of your bed.   He pushed your legs apart with firm hands on your thighs. Hawks trailed gentle kisses as he went down your body to your stretchy leggings.  He bit into the soft skin of your lower stomach while slipping is fingers under the hem of your pants.

He tugged your pants off and began to deeply rub his nose across the front of your panties. “You smell so good chickadee. I wonder how many times I can make you cum on my tongue.” He placed a gentle kiss at the top of you clothed lower lips. You could hear his wings adjust as he sat on his knees between your legs. Your legs were placed over his shoulders locked in place by his strong arms.

You placed a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the moans. Hawks noticed stopped his attack of your clothed delicate area and peeked up at you. “I said I wanted to hear you moan my chickadee.” Strong red feathers quickly pinned your wrists above your head. You wiggled in a failed attempt to get free.

“Hawks? AH.. ahhhh Hawks!”

“That’s better. Now be a good girl and cum all over my tongue.”

Hawks slid your panties to the side allowing him to plunge his tongue deep into your entrance. One of his hands danced gently on your clit. More feathers covered your body stroking over sensitive areas of skin. He carefully listened to each moan and hitch of your breath allowing him to adjust quickly to best please you.

“O-God Hawks!” A blinding orgasm crashed over you. He lapped up your juices and slid two fingers inside you while licking up and down your slit. Slowly he pumped his digits while you rode out your high. He slowly scissored and stretch your entrance before slipping a third finger in and increasing the speed of his thrusts. The nonstop pleasure he gave you quickly cause you to cum once again only this time your orgasm crashed harder over you.

“A squirter? Damn that was hot chickadee.” Hawks released his grip on your thigh as he gently licked and sucked up your juices from his fingers. “Spread your legs. I want to see the mess you’ve made.” You felt exhausted trying to catch your breath but somehow managed to open your legs wider for him.

Slowly the stars faded from your vision, and you gazed upon the handsome winged hero that was standing smugly between your limp legs. His face glistened with your juices and your eyes trailed down his chiseled body to see him in only a tight gray boxer brief. His hard twitching bulge was hardly hidden by the cotton fabric. A damp spot of precum started to form. He chuckled watching you drink in the sight of him.

“Hope you’re not tired already because this is nothing. You’re not going to be able to walk once I’m done with you.” He slid his shorts down to freeing his member. It bounced for a moment off his stomach leaving a thin trail of precum. He was long and slender with a thick vain that ran along his length.

“Ready for me?” He knew your eyes were lustfully locked on his member, so he tensed his muscles causing it to bounce a few times. “Like what you see?” His ego could be seen from space, but you couldn’t argue with him in that moment.

Gentle feathers slipped your panties off your body. He drank in the sight of you bare before him. “So beautiful chickadee. I want you so bad. I can't hold back anymore"

With those sweet words he gripped himself and began to rub his head along your slit enjoying the feel of your juices. He rubbed him self on your entrance with slight pressure and then would pull back to rub along your slit once again. The teasing was agonizing. You tried to push your hips into him, but his feathers still had you pinned in place.

“Please Hawks, I want you inside me.”

With a smooth thrust he pushed his full length inside in you. A pleasurable scream escaped you. He stilled for a moment rubbing his thumb over your clit allow you a chance to adjust to his size. Slowly he began to move his hips.

“Oh chickadee you feel so damn tight. Your .. FFUCK.. milking me.” His rhythm picked up and he soon began to flutter his wings aiding in his deep harsh trusts into you.

You began to writhe and cry out under him. He continued to harshly pound himself into you as two more orgasms hit you. He slowed down slightly and locked a deep kiss with you. Within seconds of kissing, you he was moaning into your mouth and a heat rushed into your womb.  Peppering light kisses on your cheek and neck while slowly pulling out of you.

His feathers were released from your body. You laid there unable to move panting heavily. Exhaustion from the multiple orgasms was taking over you as your eyes could barely keep focused. Gentle hands stroked your face and sweet whispers of praise coaxed you to sleep.

Hawks had his feather swiftly slide you up the bed to a more comfortable spot. While you slept peacefully, he took a quick photo of you before tucking you under the blanket. He tucked himself back into his clothing and walked out to your balcony.

The crisp evening air blew past his face and the lowering sun painted the sky with vibrant colors.  Hawks pulled out his phone sent a quick text before he was able to slide his phone into his pocket it rang. He laughed when he recognized it being the number, he just texted.

“Hey Dabi.”

#mha hawks #hawks smut #mha smut #hawks x reader #bnha smut #keigo smut #keigo x you #my hero x reader

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elriel meta #pro elain archeron #elain and azriel #azriel x elain #acotar meta #rowaelin #tog

[anonymousfiction211]

You always have a choice: 2

Summary: You and Loki went to his hiding place, after being locked up in prison on Asgard together. You still don’t quite trust the God and things get out of hand.  Word Count: 2.857 words Warnings: Bit of angst, smut A/N: There are a few more chapters coming. I will post them every thursday. This is an alternate timeline. Loki has encountered Asgard and helped Thor fighting the Dark elves. After that he took over Asgard, was caught and thrown in jail. Hope you like it <3 Click here to read chapter 1

The morning light shone trough the window and awoke you. Your hands roamed the space next to you. Your eyes snapped open when you didn’t feel anyone next to you. You sat up straight and scanned the cottage. You didn’t see anyone. You slowly got out of bed and stalked around. Loki was nowhere to be seen. Panic was starting to rise. You were stupid to believe that you could trust the God of Lies. He was gone, with the Tesseract, probably to save his himself. And you, you would die a painful dead, alone. Worse, he had used you. He could have taken off the moment you arrived here, but no. He probably just wanted to fuck you, which explains his way of fucking you. And you foolishly believed that he actually cared for you.

At this point you starting to search around the cottage for your clothes. You needed to move and fast. You dressed yourself and went to the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt to grab some knives you could use as a weapon. The front door opened behind you, you turned around with two knives in your hand. Ready to attack, whomever had entered. You were surprised to see Loki standing there, eying you. ‘What are you doing, darling?’ he asked you. ‘Where were you?’ you screamed at him. You were still standing in your fight stance, adrenaline rushing through you. You were expecting him to make the first move. He just holds up a bag and looked a bit hurt at you. ‘Getting something for us to eat’ he said to you.

It took a few seconds for you to calm yourself. You lowered your knives to your sides, but still feeling bit on edge, you hold onto them. Loki closed the door behind you and walked towards the table, he was standing on the opposite side of it. With a loud thump he threw the bag of food on the table. You noticed his breathing was faster than it was a moment ago. His hurt expression has made way for an angry one. Without saying a word, he held out his hand and the Tesseract appeared. He put it on the table and slide it over to you. When you caught it a lump in your throat began to form. Tears were pricking behind your eyes, but now was not the time to display any sign of weakness. ‘Just take it and go’ he said. His voice was monotone, and his face didn’t show any emotion. You looked at the cube in front of you and back to Loki. Even tough he didn’t show it, you felt like you had hurt him.

That’s when you realized, you needed him, but he didn’t need you. He would be perfectly capable of living his live, whilst avoiding Thanos at the same time. After all, he apparently was doing that for a very long time. In this situation you were dependent on him and he could easily betray you. He could have betrayed you from the moment you were in Odin’s vault together, he could have run of with the Tesseract by himself. Or worse, deliver you to Thanos himself, he could easily spin it like that was his plan all along and get back in good graces with Thanos. ‘I thought..’ you started but couldn’t finish the sentence. The way he looked at you, you knew he already knew the end of that sentence. ‘I know we were in each other’s way a lot and didn’t treat each other like we should have. But for you to think I would actually do that. If you really believe that, take it and go’ he said. ‘And if I were you I should hurry. It will only take a few minutes before the signal of that stone will emit and after that a few seconds for them to be here’ he took a long pause. ‘If you don’t and you stay, I already told you. I need you to trust me’ he said.

You slid the cube back to Loki. After all, what choice did you have? You put the knives down on the table. Loki made the cube vanish like he did yesterday. He walked towards one of the chairs, grabbed a book and started to flip through it. ‘Loki?’ you said, hoping that you could somehow apologize for hurting him. But Loki didn’t respond and kept his attention fixed on his book. You walked towards the bag and saw that it contained some food, which you had never seen before. You took out something that looked like bread and pulled off a piece. You sat down at the kitchen table and nibbled at the bread. It tasted nothing like on Asgard, but it wasn’t half bad. You didn’t eat all of it, the suspense in the room made you lose your appetite. You put the rest of the food away in the cabinets. When you turned your back you felt Loki’s eyes on your back, but when you turned around his eyes were glued to his book. When you were done you decided to give it one more try ‘Loki?’ you asked again. He still didn’t answer you. You sighed ‘I’m going for a walk’ you told him.

You walked towards the door and turned the handle. When you pulled the door towards you, it didn’t open. You started to wiggle the knob and pull harder, but the door still didn’t budge. When you turned and looked at Loki you saw he had a small smile on his face. ‘You’re not going anywhere’ he told you, still not looking at you. ‘Seriously? you asked, stunned by this sudden move. He wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement at your reaction. ‘Just trust me, darling’ he purred. ‘Loki, don’t be an ass. Just let me leave’ you were starting to get aggravated.

‘Oh, I’m being an ass? How would you call your behaviour?’ he countered.

‘Given my situation, completely rational’ you answered.

‘Concluding that I abandoned you when you woke up and arming yourself is rational?’ he had lowered his book and he locked his gaze in with yours.

‘Given who you are, I think that it is’ the moment the words left your lips you knew you regret them. But you had already said them, no turning back now. You flinched when Loki got up from his seat and strutted a few steps in your direction. It made you take a few steps back, until you felt the table behind you. There was only a meter of space between you and Loki, but you could feel the anger radiate of him.

‘That’s how it is? After everything I’ve done fore you? You knew that I didn’t have to help you. In fact, my life would be a lot simpler right now if I didn’t help you’ he yelled at you.

‘Then why are you helping me? I don’t understand’ you yelled back at him. There was a silence for a minute. You two were still in some sort of staring match and you refused to be the one who would lose. ‘How could you not understand after last night?’ he asked you. He was still angry, but his voice was much softer now. ‘What? Because you told me you never let me go? Guys say anything when they just hade some’ it felt like an outer body experience. You literally saw yourself fighting with Loki like you were a third person in the room. And when you heard yourself, even you didn’t understand yourself. No wonder you were alone, you had no friends, always bouncing from place to place, the only ever solid relationship you had was an enemy. And that was Loki. He closed the distance between you. His hand went to your cheek and you flinched, expecting a hard blow. The blow never came, instead you felt the back of his index finger stroking your cheek. ‘I thought last night meant something. Apparently I was wrong’ he pulled his hand away from you and his soft voice was replaced with one of spite.

He took a stab back. ‘Loki, I didn’t mean…’ you started. Trying to explain your behaviour, even if you didn’t quite know where that explanation was going. ‘I help you, I protect you, I keep you safe and I’ve shared my bed with you. In return you think the worst of me, don’t trust me, and use me to escape your fate’ he said. There was no emotion in his voice, and that was worse than the anger and spite. ‘We have history, how do you expect me to forget that?’ you said. ‘I don’t, but even if I trapped you, or left you, it was only in situations which I knew you would be able to handle on your own’  

He walked towards the door and opened it. ‘Trusting someone is a choice. I’m the God of Lies, so people don’t choose to trust me. Even after I had my brother’s back a hundredth times, even if he was the one who was acting stupid and irrational. People lie, a lot. But somehow, I’m the one who always lies’ he took another step, he was standing outside with the doorknob still in his hand. ‘Where you’re going?’ you asked him, still thinking about what he had told you. ‘I’m going for a walk. You can stay or go as you please’ he said. Then he took a deep breath ‘But right now, I trust you to be here when I get back’ and with that he closed the door and left.

And for the first time in your life, you felt utterly alone. You were always alone, you barely remembered your life when your parents were alive, or you had friends. How it all went wrong, you couldn’t quit tell either. But being on your own was something you were good at, you always had your own back. There were flashes of your time in Thanos his clutches. The way he explained his plan, and how he treated you. It made sense to be on his side and you were hoping to find a family there. What you found was madness, chaos, and destruction. But by that time, it was too late, you were in too deep. You felt your tears starting to stream down your cheek. The only thing you wanted right now was for Loki to hold you, but he wasn’t there. You were alone, because you pushed him away.

You quickly brushed the tears from you face and walked towards the chair Loki was sitting in earlier. It still smelled like him. The book he was flipping through was laying there. You picked it up and it wasn’t noticed it wasn’t a normal book. It was a notebook, and you instantly recognized his handwriting. Maybe it was invading his privacy, but you couldn’t contain your curiosity. On every page there was a different scenario on how he could escape Thanos. He had written them down and later commented on his own ideas. Some he thought to be useful and some he found later to be downright stupid. Halfway through the page you came across a page where the title was underlined multiple times. Even tough he couldn’t see Thor breaking him out of jail and requesting his help to fight the dark elves coming, he had planned to fake his death a long time. He was just waiting for the right opportunity. And Loki was cunning when he saw his chance he took it.

When you turned the next page, you saw that his change had changed. He had written down everything you told him when the two of you were briefly locked up together. After a few pages you saw different plans. Plans about escaping Thanos, but ending up together. You looked at the date and saw it was dated only a few days after the two of you were thrown in a cell together. Next to his plans there were again, little comments he left for himself. You saw a debate with himself about including you, whenever you did something to annoy him he would write it down as a reason to leave or betray you. But he had scratched all those thoughts and written down reasons to help you underneath them. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at Loki’s constant bickering with himself. When you turned to the last written page you were absolutely stunned. The last page didn’t say much, it wasn’t about a plan he had come up with. It just said:

Last night was amazing. But you need to come up with a better plan, quick. Let’s face it, life without her in it isn’t worth living. And maybe get her a few books so she stops stealing yours.

After reading that you put the notebook aside. You scanned his bookcase and started to read one of the stories. Trying to distract yourself from all the thoughts and emotions, you didn’t want to deal with right now. When you were hungry you ate some of the food. You noticed it was getting darker outside and wondered when of if Loki would come back. You stopped that thought and realized it wasn’t a question of if Loki would come back, but when Loki would come back. Because you decided he would come back. He had to.

You jolted awake when the door opened hard. You realized that you had been sleeping on top of the bed, waiting for Loki to come back. Loki walked in and slammed the door shut behind him. You noticed rain was pouring down and Loki was drenched. Water was dripping from his hair and his clothes on the hardwood floor. You were wondering why he hadn’t just teleported back. The two of you looked at each other. His emerald eyes seemed to glow in the dark. He walked towards the bed while stripping off his clothes. The only thing he was wearing when he crawled onto the bed were his damp boxers. He crawled on top of you, and you let him. His body felt cold from the rain against your own. He kissed you fiercely and you eagerly returned the kiss. His hand was under your shirt and fondling your breasts. When he heard you moan you felt him smile.

You took of your top, giving Loki better access to your breasts. He took advantage of that by trailing his kisses down your neck to your nipples. The way his warm tong swirled around your nipples made them hard. After he was done with one he moved to the other. His hand was at the hem of your shorts and underwear and in one smooth motion he pulled the down. You were laying before him, you returned the favour by undoing his underwear. He looked at you and you swore you saw him looking sad. He sighed and didn’t move. You hesitated a bit, but decided to take matters in your own hands. You pulled him in by his neck for a deep kiss. Your heart fluttered when he returned the kiss. He was surprised and you took that to your advantage to flip the two of you around. Loki was laying on his bed, letting out a soft groan. You were straddling his lap and felt our heated core against his erect cock.

At this moment you didn’t needed foreplay. You were already wet and ready for him. He moans loudly when you took his cock and slowly pushed it inside of you. You didn’t give him any time to overthink this and slowly started to ride him. Loki grabbed your hips and after a while starting to move with you. You were riding him at a slow pace which was adding to the intimacy. When you started to moan Loki tried to speed you up by taking control of your hips. You grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands down on either side of his head. You were pinning him down whilst riding him. ‘(Y/N), I can’t hold off for long’ he whimpered beneath you. You felt all his muscles flex underneath you and knew he was trying to hold of until you were there with him. 

You broke your kissing on his lips and necks and sat up straight. You guided one of his hands to your clit and he started to stroke small circles on it. When you were panting you felt Loki’s cock inside of you twitch and his seed spill. It triggered your own orgasm. Loki moaned your name shamelessly when he felt your wall clench around his sensitive cock. After your high ebbed away you pulled off him and laid you head on his chest. Your arms were around him. You felt a touch of his magic cleaning the both of you up and suddenly the two you were beneath the blankets. ‘I’m glad you stayed’ he whispered to you. ‘I’m glad you came back’ you whispered back before you fell asleep safely in his arms.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki of asgard #loki oneshot #loki story #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki angst #loki fluff #loki marvel #lokixofc #lokixyou #loki x reader #loki mcu #loki god of mischief #loki god of lies #SWEET LOKI #loki love #loki x original female character #Smut #shameless smut #angst #fluff

[let-them-read-fics]

Yours Truly (Pt. 1)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: ~ Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Pining, Angst, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! I finally have a few days off, so we're back to our (semi) regularly scheduled programming with this fic! I really hope you enjoy it; lmk what you think :)

PS ~ Once again, I had to split it into two parts to appease the Tumblr Overlords.

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 2 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

1.) A Day In Class

Where does true beauty come from?

Is it strictly based in someone's DNA, rooted entirely in the attractiveness of their features? Or is deeper than that; does it extend from their soul? The very essence of stardust and personality that makes them them? Is it in how they interact with others? How they carry themselves? 

You, being the wannabe philosopher that you are, love hearing people's answers to those questions. Every response is unique in its own way, altered depending on the person asked, and you find that to be one of humanity's most wonderful qualities. Like snowflakes, we're all different; as such is our definition of beauty. It lies in the eye of the beholder, subjective in its nature, and you find that comforting. Just think: if 99% of the world's population found you unattractive, 78,000,000 would beg to differ. 

Though, for one person, you're sure those rules don't apply. She's objectively beautiful, and no one even attempts to pretend otherwise. 

Who, you may ask? Kim Jisoo, of course -- head of your school's student council, resident girl next door, and keeper of your heart. She's poised in every way, and refined to the point that you question if you're even deserving of knowing her. Humor and kindness radiate from her no matter where she goes, so it's really no surprise that so many people love her. 

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to look at your best friend. "Yo, Y/N. What did you get for number 32?" Jeong asks from his seat in the row directly behind you, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Your history professor likely wouldn't take kindly to being interrupted during his lecture, so you choose to show him your answer instead of responding out loud. 

Jeong thanks you and continues to work on the activity you finished nearly 15 minutes ago, leaving you to half-heartedly listen to your professor. You're a good student, but even you have a limit to how much monotonous speaking you can handle in one sitting. As his words drone on, you roll your neck -- intending for the action to relieve some of the tension in your aching muscles; you're in for a surprise, however, when you lock eyes with none other than Jisoo herself. She offers a warm smile and wave, and the innocent actions send swarms of butterflies to take flight in your stomach. After sitting there for a moment, dumbstruck by her beauty, you snap to and return the gesture, making her giggle quietly. 

Huh. So that's what angels sound like, then.

She turns back to her work after a minute, flipping the page every so often as she follows along with the lesson. You take note of how her eyes dart across the materials laid out on her desk, how her fingers mindlessly flirt with the edge of her sleeve in contemplation when she gets to a question that stumps her.

Never have you ever found yourself in such inner turmoil before. The sight before you begs to be seen -- to be admired -- but class continues on. As much as you try to fight it, your resolve eventually crumbles; foreign concepts now falling on fully deaf ears, you allow yourself to be entranced. 

2.) Out In The Square

A Few Hours Later

Throngs of people stretch out before you, everyone making their way to various parts of campus as the blazingly hot sun beats down on them. Some run like their lives depend on it -- likely having overslept or missed campus transit -- while others take their time, catching up with friends and gossiping all the while. The soft pfft of sprinklers set up across the sections of lawn around you can be heard, going off every so often, and occasionally they're followed by the shouts of some unfortunate people getting soaked. 

"You're so lucky, Y/N," Jeong groans from behind you. A grimace sits on his face as he flips through the pages of his Trigonometry book, looking for the reference graphs again. "No more classes for the rest of the week and you don't have any more assignments to finish? Remind me again how to become a teacher's pet, please." You roll your eyes with an amused smile, leaning back on your elbows to talk to him. 

"I'm not a teacher's pet, Jeong. I just do my work on time instead of partying every night." He picks up a leftover piece of bread from the picnic basket that sits to his right and tosses it at you in retaliation to your little remark. 

"I don't care what you say, those parties are always epic. One of these days I'll convince you to come along." 

You shake your head, knowing there's no way you'd willingly attend one of them. From his stories, all those "epic" nights consist of is ridiculously drunken beer pong, sweaty people doing jello shots, and regrets.

"Not in a million years, loser." You say adamantly, not letting him trick himself into believing he's capable of swaying you. 

With one last muttered phrase of, "we'll see about that," he returns to his studies, and you turn your attention elsewhere.

Scattered light filters in through the leaves of the tree you're sitting under, wrapping you in a blanket of warmth as your eyes scan across the crowd again. The sight brings to mind an idea that always fascinates you: everyone you meet is busy creating their own stories, writing and rewriting new possibilities and endings for themselves with each new choice they make. You can hear snippets of their conversations -- see instances of some having their best days while others are living through their worst -- and it really puts things into perspective. Although we may appear as side characters in those books of life that others are writing for themselves, we have no idea what they're going through at any given moment. So, you believe, that makes it all the more important to leave a positive impact on them; whether it be a kind smile, holding the door, or even a simple compliment, you're determined to have your legacy be one rooted in kindness. 

Speaking of kindness in human form…

There she is, you think to yourself, feeling that all too familiar pitter patter of your heart pick up. Jisoo exits Building C, where her latest lecture just ended, and rushes down the stairs with her books in her arms. She's studying to become an actress, as far as you know, and you can't help but smile at the thought; she'll make an amazing star someday. 

You watch as she meets up with 3 other girls, whom you immediately recognize as Lisa, Rosé, and Jennie, and they eagerly bounce their way over to the refreshment truck that one of your school's clubs had been so considerate to hire. It's the perfect day for a cold treat, after all. 

Jisoo's dark hair flows in the gentle breeze that rolls in, looking like silk as it rides the currents. She's gorgeous in every way, and you can't help but be smitten; besides, it's not like you're not alone in your pining. She practically has the entire student body wrapped around her finger. 

"Y/N, don't forget to blink. You're staring pretty hard," Yuqi says, raising up onto her elbow beside Jeong. He laughs with her, but his eyes remain glued to the notebook paper he's scribbling his work onto.

Your eyes dart away following her statement, and you know you've been caught. "I thought you were asleep," you bite back, attempting to hide the blush of embarrassment that's quickly flooding to your cheeks. 

"I was, but I guess my intuition as your best friend woke me up. It's my mission in life to tease you." 

"So I've gathered," you sarcastically smile at each other, making stupid faces like always. 

"You love me," she flips her hair over her shoulder, appearing self-assured with the smirk that tugs at her lips. 

"Do I though? I don't know sometimes..." she socks you in the arm, making you chuckle. 

"All jokes, babe. Don't pout," you pinch her cheek until she grins, and then she begins telling you all about the dream she just had. 

----

Jisoo leads her gang over to one of the nearby tables, making sure to choose her seat strategically. A special someone caught her attention earlier, as they have from the moment she first laid eyes on them months ago, and she hasn't been able to fight the urge to admire them. She watches as they laugh along with something their friend said, tilting their head back as the cheerful noise rings out. She finds herself smiling along, imagining what it would be like to make them laugh like that; it's a uniquely wonderful sound, and she can't help but adore it. 

They lean across the blanket they're sitting on and dig through a picnic basket, retrieving what seems to be a sandwich packaged up in plastic wrap. One of their friends exaggeratedly thanks them, tackling them to the ground in a messy hug with a shout of gratitude that even Jisoo can hear from across the square. 

"Earth to Jisoo!" Jennie says, raising her voice slightly as she snaps her fingers in front of the unnie. The former jolts back to attention with a little jump, clearing her throat to gather her thoughts. 

"You know, you could always go talk to him. I've heard he's sweet." She tells the other girl, noticing the look of longing that's befallen her features. 

"Yeah, Joy has Art with him on Thursdays. I think his name's Jeong or something like that." Lisa butts in before taking another lick of her ice cream. 

Despite being so smart, the girls are really oblivious sometimes; Jisoo wasn't looking at him at all. She was looking at you. 

She doesn't know if now is the right time to tell them that, though. She hasn't officially come out to them, but she isn't afraid that they won't accept her -- she just wants that moment to be special, and sweating in the middle of the campus square doesn't seem like the golden opportunity that she's been hoping for.

"Just eat your treats, knuckleheads." She concludes, taking a spoonful of the shaved ice she opted for instead of ice cream. The truck had multiple types of treats, with all kinds of different toppings and flavorings lining the walls.

"Okay…" Rosé trails off before adding, "but don't say we didn't try to help when you start wishing you had said something later." Jisoo uses her spoon to lower the one that Rosie had raised accusingly at her, reassuring the girl that she'd be fine. 

She knows it's a lie, though; as the 4 of them later toss their trash in the bins and make their way to the student council room, Jisoo sneaks a last wistful glance at you, wishing she would've had the courage to start a conversation.

3.) One Step Closer

Friday, 1:34 PM -- A Few Days Later

"Hey, Minji. How many do we have today?" You wave at what kids have already been dropped off, your presence making their little faces light up with joy. 

Your coworker responds from across the room, tossing a couple stray toys into their labeled baskets to keep the space tidy. "10 or so, I think. The last ones should be arriving soon." You nod and take off your coat, setting your things in one of the small cubbies against the wall just beyond the entrance. 

"Y/N!" A small voice shouts from behind the counter, hidden from view. You smile deeply when you realize who it is, and you quickly dart around the corner to say hello. His chubby hands cover his mouth, but they do little in hiding his adorable grin. "Seungbum! How's my little munchkin?!" He squeals and runs into your arms, giggling loudly when you pick him up and spin him around. His dark hair sways from side to side with the movement, the slight waves sticking out in random places. A few seconds later, he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls back to look at you, settling into your secure hold. 

"Can we play when Jia gets here? I promised her I'd show her the new trick I learned, but I wanna show you, too." 

You smile at the sweet sentiment. "Of course, buddy. As long as you eat well at snack time, we can play however much you want." You raise an eyebrow at him, showing your authority, before saying, "I saw you put your veggies in your pocket last time and skip to dessert, so it'd better not happen again." He lowers his head after realizing he had been caught, and a hint of redness flushes his cheeks in embarrassment. 

"Okay Y/N-yah." 

You tickle him to make sure he knows you aren't mad at him, and soon he's laughing again. "Now, go wash your hands and get settled at the table, please." 

"Yes ma'am." His tiny sneakers squeak against the floor as he races off towards one of the lowered sinks that borders the kitchen wall, and you shake your head with a smile. 

Not even a second later, you feel a soft tug at your pant leg, and you turn around to find the source. 

A head of brilliantly auburn hair is the first thing you see, and its shade compliments the child's outfit perfectly. "Hi sweetheart. Are you new?" You squat down to the young girl's level, noting how she shyly toys with her fingers as they rest in front of her. She nods, the movement so subtle that you almost don't notice it. 

"My name's Y/N, and that awesome lady over there," you lean closer to her and point towards your coworker, "...is Minji. You can stay with us today, or you can play with the others, okay?" She nods again, her mannerisms letting you know just how shy she really is. Gently taking one of her hands, you hold it and look at her with a reassuring smile, asking, "Will you tell me your name?" 

"I'm Aera." She meekly says, only maintaining eye contact for a second or two. 

"That's a beautiful name," you compliment, seeing progress as she lightly smiles at your words. "And I love your bow," you add, touching the delicate material that rests near her ear, nestled into her straight locks. It has cherry blossoms and butterflies on it, all vibrant and neatly colored. 

"Thank you, I picked it out myself." She perks up a bit now, raising her head to look at you with a proud smile. "Wow, really?" You put on an impressed expression, wanting to boost her confidence even more. "You'll have to help me choose one the next time I go shopping, then. You're great at it." The praise makes her chuckle, and her eyes squint into soft crescents in the process. 

After stealing a glance at the table where everyone else has already gathered, you realize that they're waiting on you to start. "Alright, Aera, it's time to grab a bite to eat. Do you want to sit with me, or are you ready to be with the others?" You tilt your head to the side, asking the question softly so she doesn't feel overwhelmed. Having had this job for a while, you've gotten the hang of adjusting your behavior to put them at ease. 

"With you," she says, growing a little timid again at the idea of mingling with them yet. "That's perfectly fine." You reassure her, smiling one more time before standing and leading her to the room. Her hand remains clutched in yours, wiggling around slightly from the height difference as she looks around. 

"Who's ready for some snacks?" Minji asks the group, laughing when they all raise their hands and get excited. Their high pitched voices carry around the room as they discuss what foods they want to trade with each other, and soon everyone is happily munching away. You rub Aera's back sweetly as she eats some cucumber sticks, swinging her feet through the air beneath the short chair you retrieved from the table for her. She looks up into your eyes with a smile, melting your heart with the cuteness of her full cheeks. You squish them before turning away, feeling your 6th sense kick in as you scan your eyes across the rest of the group. 

"Seungbum…" you warn, catching the way he's mischievously eyeing the carrots laid out before him on the table. He pokes at one of them and sighs, eventually giving in as he takes a hesitant bite of it. With some more convincing, he finishes the rest of the pack and gets started on his dessert. 

----

Honestly, you feel sorry for the birds outside.

They must have had hundreds of mini heart attacks upon hearing the somehow earth-shattering roar of the 10 young kids, all blasting out the side door towards the playground. Some of them automatically race towards the swings or slides, while others approach the basket of toys and sports equipment. Aera, however, hangs back, her entire hand wrapped around just a few of your fingers. "What do you wanna do?" She shrugs, looking around at the different activities that the others are already starting. 

"I can push you on the swings, or we could race. There're some monkey bars and a merry-go-round, too, that nobody's using right now." You suggest, hoping to catch her interest with one of them. Her attention snaps up to you at that last option, and she dramatically drops her jaw. "Did you say merry-go-round?" You nod with an amused grin, laughing when she lets out a cute noise of joy. After pointing her in the direction of it, she dashes off ahead of you and makes her way to it, only stopping to make sure you're still coming with her once she gets there.

"Hold on tight, little one." You advise, cheering when she giggles in anticipation. Her chuckles fill the airwaves as you spin the bar around, making sure not to pull too hard and make her too dizzy. You were once a kid, too, though, so you make it a point to add some serious speed every now and then to keep her entertained and happy. You remember playing on these all day when you were her age.

---

"Auntie!" Aera shrieks, excitedly thundering towards the fence that borders the playground. You finish cheering Seungbum on after watching his trick, grinning as he tries to flirt with Jia; she looks impressed. You turn around at Aera's commotion, feeling your eyes practically pop out of your head at who you see standing on the other side. 

"How was your day, my love?" Jisoo asks sweetly, leaning over the metal divider to run a hand through her niece's hair lovingly. She still hasn't noticed your presence, and for that you don't know if you're relieved or saddened. Watching her interact with the young girl is quite adorable, though, and you're distracted from your personal gay panic for the time being. 

"I've had so much fun. And Y/N-yah said she likes my hair clip! I told you this one was prettier than the one with just trees on it!" Aera says smugly, happy to have her decision pay off and prove her aunt wrong. Jisoo tenses up, not expecting to hear your name right now. Seeing that this is her first time picking Aera up, she had no idea you work at the daycare; though she'd be lying to say that it comes as a surprise -- you're a very warm person, so it's no wonder that you're good with kids. 

As per Aera's request, you walk across the playground and join her in front of Jisoo. Now it's your turn to be shy; you sneak a glance at the student council president and immediately feel your cheeks heat up, so you busy yourself by patting Aera on the head. She hugs your leg and settles against your side, causing Jisoo to raise her eyebrows. "I'm impressed, Y/N. She usually doesn't open up to new people very easily." 

"Ah, I'm surprised that such a cool girl like her wanted to hang out with me." You tease, tickling her side lightly when she hides behind the material of your shirt. "Do you want to come in and see what she drew today? She's definitely skilled." You suggest, trying not to sound too hopeful as you muster up the courage to look at Jisoo again. She's already smiling at you, a soft sort of adoration shining in her eyes as they rake over your features. She accepts your offer, and you walk over to the gate to let her in. Aera demands that you carry her, so you scoop her up into your arms as you make your way back into the daycare center. Her head sits on your shoulder, and you can feel her playfully making faces at Jisoo the entire way; her tiny frame jolts with each loud giggle she lets out, and the sound makes you smile. 

---

"Yeah, she was my sidekick for the day." You respond to Jisoo, continuing your conversation as you watch Aera remove her drawing from the cork board that she taped it to earlier. Displaying the kids' artwork is something that you advocated for when you first began working here, and you're so glad you did; they always get excited to share their works. 

"She's a lucky girl, then." She says, doing her best to ignore the feeling of your eyes on her. Focusing on anything other than you is already hard enough for her, but she knows there'd be no hope left if she gives in now. 

"Y/N helped me draw this. She doodled Dalgom in the corner," Aera cheerily says, breaking the slight tension in the air as she approaches the table. Most of the other kids have already been picked up, and Minji's watching the handful that haven't. 

"It's not very good," you cringe, scratching the back of your neck. You've seen him a few times since the beginning of the year, whether it be on walks across campus with Jisoo, or perched on her desk during "bring your pet to class" day. 

"It's adorable; Dalgomie will be honored when I show it to him." Jisoo says with a nod, shutting down your insecurities within a second. You fail to contain the laugh that slips past your lips, disbelief present in your voice as you ask, "You're going to show him?" She looks at you like you have 3 heads. "It would be a disgrace not to."

With a breathy chuckle, you say, "You're so strange. I like it, though." 

Jisoo smiles at that, and the three of you discuss all of the fun things you did that day. Jisoo tells you about the classes she had to sit through, and even how she stepped in gum and had to borrow a pair of Rosé's shoes. 

---

All good things must come to an end, though, and after about half an hour of talking, it was time to say goodbye. 

You lead them out the door and down the sidewalk as per Aera's request, yet again (that child is basically a mini dictator at this point, but she's cute so she gets a free pass). As she rustles around her bag in search of her keys, Jisoo accidentally knocks her earbud case out, sending it tumbling to the ground. "Oh! Here, I'll grab it for you." You kindly offer, stepping past her to retrieve it from the grass. She takes it from you with a word of gratitude uttered in that angelic voice of hers, and you begin your goodbyes upon hearing Minji call your name. 

"I'll see you around, Jisoo. And Aera, I expect to see you next week." You wiggle a finger at the little girl, donning a shocked expression when she pretends to bite it. "Can't you tell we're related?" Jisoo asks with a smile, ruffling her niece's hair. "The resemblance is uncanny," you laugh, watching as both of them join in with you. 

"Y/N, come on!" Minji whines, sounding like a toddler herself. You initially go to brush off her request in order to spend a few more seconds with the two of them, but when she stands in the doorway, entering your line of sight, you see why she's so desperate for your help -- two of the children still waiting on their parents are climbing on her, about to knock her over at any second. Her face is beet red from the effort she's exerting, and her hair is mussed wildly. 

"Oh shhh---" you start, catching yourself when Jisoo widens her eyes at you and goes to cover Aera's ears, "--shiitake mushrooms!" You finish with a nervous smile, gaining a stunned laugh from your crush. "Bye girls; gotta go. I'm on my way, Minji!" You call out like a superhero, running to her aid as fast as your legs will carry you. 

Jisoo watches you wrangle one of the squirmy kids off of her and initiate a tickle fight to distract him and give Minji time to deal with the other one. She smiles like a dork at your actions, realizing she would be content with watching you all day. You're a natural with them, and seeing you in action is something she wishes she had the chance to do more often. With that, she turns around and picks Aera up; the youngster nuzzles into her embrace, lazily slumping onto her after having such a tiring day. As Jisoo goes to take a step forward, she notices something on the ground: a piece of paper. It's been folded neatly many times, and it reminds her of the notes she would always pass to her friends back in elementary school. Her curiosity gets the better of her, and she can't resist the urge to pick it up. 

"To The Girl Who'll Never Know I Love Her"

Her eyes scan across the words and she unfolds the note, making sure to keep a steady grip on Aera with her other arm. An almost unnoticeable signature is scribbled in the bottom corner, and she nearly scares Aera by squealing in pleasant surprise. 

It's your name, curled into the letters that are so uniquely yours; the paper must've fallen out of your pocket when you bent down to get her case earlier. 

After buckling her niece into her car seat and climbing into the driver's seat, Jisoo unfolds the note again and begins reading. She's like a giddy kid all over again, and part of her feels bad for giving into temptation. She reasons with herself by promising to give it back to you the next time she sees you, and that manages to rid her conscience of some of the guilt she feels. For now, though, she's eager to see what it contains. 

The first thing to catch her eye is a poem written neatly underneath a doodle of a rabbit, likely serving as some sort of label. Everyone on campus knows of her nickname and resemblance to rabbits, and she can't help but hope that your drawing wasn't simply a coincidence. 

Poison, is what you are

A bittersweet mix, intoxicatingly beautiful 

For one glance from you

Steals every breath I had so foolishly believed was mine to take

For one smile from you

Sends me reeling, falling all over again

She nearly swoons at the words, rereading them multiple times over and imagining you saying them to her. She wonders how the syllables would fall from your lips, which ones you'd stress to alter the meaning into whatever you imagined when you wrote them. Whether or not they're written for her, she may never know; all she's aware of right now is how they make her feel, and how that feeling is one that she never wants to stop experiencing.

4.) Practice Makes Perfect

2 Weeks, 3 Exams, and 1 Mental Breakdown Later

"Coming!" You call out, using all of your strength to push your rolling chair away from your desk and across the room towards the door. 

"Y/N L/N, at your service," you say, doing a little bow in your seat. Upon looking up to see who's in front of you, your eyes lock with the same girl who's been living in your mind rent free ever since you met her. 

"Jisoo!" You announce a little louder than intended, scrambling up into a standing position before kicking the chair backwards. You wince when it collides with something behind you, filling the room with noise as a few of your knick knacks clatter to the floor. Jisoo has to fight to contain the smile on her lips, pursing them as she looks towards the ground so as to not embarrass you. 

It's too late though -- you've already made a fool of yourself, and right in front of your crush, no less. 

"What can I do for you?" You ask, finally relaxing your face from its previously scrunched up position. 

"Are you busy right now? I have a favor to ask and you might be the only person who can help me out." Her eyebrows raise inquisitively at you, quirking up in that special way they always do when she's focusing in class. 

She could ask you to do just about anything, and you'd be agreeing without hesitation; no questions asked. 

"N-no, just doing a little studying is all. How can I help?" You'd normally curse yourself for sounding so shy, but she looks especially gorgeous tonight and you can't even blame yourself for it. The fluorescent bulbs of the dorm's hallway fail to even put a dent in the glow she's radiating, and that's no small feat -- those horrible little things are usually capable of making anyone look bad, and yet, once again, Jisoo manages to break the mold. 

"Mrs. Choi assigned a rehearsal for me tonight, and I need a peer to score how well I do. I trust you to do it." She says, having no idea how much her words are affecting you. 

Review portions of the semester are crucial to every major's success, but arguably none so much as those studying to be actors. The peer and admin reviews that they receive account for a large chunk of their grade, so you can imagine how nerve-racking it would be to put that kind of power in someone else's hands. You're touched that she trusts you with it. 

"I'd love to help, Jisoo. Just curious, though: why don't you have one of the girls help? They probably know more about it than me, after all." Everyone knows how close JenChuLiChaeng are, so her decision to choose you is genuinely intriguing. 

Shit. For some reason, Jisoo hadn't anticipated that you'd ask that question. The thought had never crossed her mind earlier, when she was preoccupied with convincing herself to come in the first place, so she has to think something up on the fly. 

"They're all busy with work. Couldn't afford to lose any precious cramming time, you know?" She says, a hint of nervousness behind the small laugh she lets out. It's uncharacteristic for her, considering she's usually so confident all the time, but you think it's adorable.

"Ryujin's the same way," you tease, turning your head to look at your roommate. She's across the room on her bed, reading through her book as she holds her middle finger up to let you know she heard your comment. "What a sweetie," you coo, blowing a kiss at her that makes her roll her eyes and smile despite herself. She pretends to be hardcore, but after spending the past few months with her you've discovered that she's actually the human embodiment of a cinnamon roll. 

"Well," you say, turning back to Jisoo, "when do you have to start?" 

She pulls her sleeve back to glance at her watch before returning her gaze to you. "Gotta be back at the dorm in 10 minutes." 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the inner honor student in you already panicking. "10 minutes?! It's all the way across campus, Jisoo!" 

She laughs at you now, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. "I'm kidding; we still have a couple hours. You should've seen your face, though. Priceless." 

"That's no way to treat someone who practically has your grade resting in their hands." You say smugly, a little smirk playing on your lips when her jaw drops dramatically.

"You wouldn't dare," she narrows her eyes, referencing the notion that you might give her bad marks because of that little prank. 

"Maybe, or maybe not. Perhaps I'll be merciful if you take me to get something to eat first." 

"Food as a peace offering? Alright, I can do that."

You smile, doing a dorky little cheer at that. "Okay, I'll be right out; just give me a second to make myself look presentable." 

Jisoo accepts your words with a curt nod, but she wants to tell you that you already look more than presentable. When you first opened the door earlier and she saw you in your study glasses, she couldn't help but smile like a fool; you're adorable, especially to her, and she wishes you could see that. 

A couple minutes later you exit your dorm and find her leaned up against the hallway wall, her hands fidgeting in front of her. Is she nervous?

"So, where would you like to go?" You ask, pulling the thin material of your jacket over your shoulders. It's lightweight -- seeing as how the weather doesn't call for a large one -- and it feels soft against your skin. 

As the two of you fall into step with each other, she responds, "It's up to you, princess. Since I'm at your mercy and all." Her smirk is visible in your peripheral. 

The nickname causes your heart to flutter in your chest, thudding around even harder than it had before. "U-uh, how about the noodle place?" You suggest, trying not to cringe at the stutter in your voice. You've heard that she likes chicken and ramen, and that shop is known as the best restaurant on campus for it. 

"110%. You know me so well," she says dreamily, batting her eyelashes at you with a silly smile. 

"Called it," you retort, brushing your shoulder off nonchalantly. "Now come on, I'm hungry and ready to spend all of your money." Her hand slips into yours when you reach down for it, almost instinctively, feeling like it was meant to be there all along, and you tug her down the hallway towards the elevator. 

----

"I know! If Mr. Johnson assigns another project like that then I'll politely be jumping out a window." 

Jisoo laughs at how animated you are, even having to stop chewing her mouthful of food momentarily to make sure she doesn't choke. She really loves hanging out with you; you make everything fun, and all of the stress she feels on a daily basis seems to vanish into thin air. 

"I did pretty bad on that last one," Jisoo adds, grimacing as she remembers her score. 

"You literally got a 93 out of 100, shut up." You shake your head with an amused smile, reaching across the table to snatch a piece of gimbap from her plate. 

"Hey--" she goes to yell at you, but her phone vibrates against the table, successfully stopping her. 

"Hello?" She answers, silently starting a chopstick war with you when you reach for another piece. When the person on the other end begins talking, she stops playing in order to concentrate on what they're saying. 

"Did she cancel?" She asks, furrowing her brow as her lips form into a natural pout. She sighs, rubbing her temple gently as the conversation continues. "Okay, I'm out with a friend right now, but you can go ahead and head that way. We'll meet you there. Alright, love you, too. Bye." 

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly requesting info about what new plan you're being involved in. "That was my brother; the babysitter cancelled on them last minute, so we have to watch Aera for a few hours." Jisoo loves her niece dearly, but she can't deny that she wanted to spend the evening alone with you. She's afraid the little girl will steal all of your attention away, as childish as that may seem. 

"You're such a good person," you compliment, only to frown when she brushes off your words. "I mean it, Jisoo. You always take care of everybody around you; it's admirable. Now take the compliment or I'll team up with Aera later and tease you." 

She rolls her eyes with a smile, saying, "You're gonna do that regardless." 

"That's not the point," you pout, stomping your foot on the ground lightly. 

"Fine; tis I, Jisoo, the greatest person in all of existence. Happy now?" 

"Ecstatic." You beam at her, returning back to your cheery self. "I'll go grab some boxes for us, okay?" She nods, and you scurry off on your mission. 

----

Back At Jisoo's Dorm

Images flash across the large, flatscreen TV mounted to the wall across from you, displaying scenes of whatever cartoon the network decided to air right now. Aera isn't being picky; she's content with sitting in your lap, mindlessly fidgeting with the necklace that loosely dangles from your neck as she remains entranced by the screen. Your arms are around her to make her feel secure, and her small frame racks against you with every sweet giggle she lets out anytime a new joke is told by one of her favorite characters. 

Jisoo observes from the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop to settle in while she waits for Aera's favorite snack to heat up. She watches as you point to various things on the TV, having her name the ones she knows and teaching her others that she doesn't. 

She loves seeing you like this. You're beaming in that special way that sets her heart on fire, and the flames are only fanned when you turn to look at her. Somehow, the sight reminds her of the first time she met you:

It was orientation week -- the beginning of the school year -- and you were taking a tour around campus with some of your friends. You were lucky to have them; you'd only kept in contact with a handful of people from high school, knowing full well that most of those relationships were only rooted in superficiality, never meant to last. But this motley crew was different; they saw you for you, and all of you genuinely enjoyed each other's company. It didn't have the same air of awkward tension as the fake friendships had -- this was real and honest, and you thanked your lucky stars for them on the daily. 

All of you had managed to get into your dream schools, and the reality was bittersweet; you'd all be moving away from each other and beginning your own lives, having less and less time for each other in the process. You were beyond proud of them, and yourself, for that matter, but it still hurt to think that they wouldn't be just a few blocks away anymore. That you couldn't just swing by their house to go on a late night drive through the city like you used to. As exciting as your new experiences were bound to be, part of you was terrified; your life up until now had been fairly safe, creating a little security blanket to protect you from all that life had in store, but now you were on your own and the idea was a bit daunting. The memories you made together comforted you, though, and kept the sadness at bay. 

"Dude, this place is sick. How did you manage to make it in again?"

"Because she's smart, dumbass. We should be asking you that question."

"Ouch, (Friend's Name), that hurt."

"Do you still have those chips from earlier? I'm starving over here."

"Yeah, here, they're in my bag."

Pockets of separate conversations can be heard from behind you, all of your friends chatting away while you walk ahead of them, map and schedule in hand. The campus is fairly large, and with so many buildings and classrooms it's easy to get confused. You continue walking, running a finger along the map to trace the path you intend to take towards the Help Center. 

In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that you're headed straight for a trash can that sits on the sidewalk, mere seconds away from colliding with it. 

A passerby notices just in the nick of time, reaching an arm out in front of you to prevent the accident with a noise of warning. You tense up, not expecting the sudden interruption, and look up into the eyes of your savior. Her dark orbs peer back at you, an innocent gleam in them when she sees your lips slowly tug into a smile. 

She mirrors your actions, neither of you saying anything yet. You couldn't utter a word even if you wanted to; her beauty leaves you speechless. 

"That was close," she says quietly, only to you. Your friends have almost caught up with you now, still busy with their own conversations, though they'll tease you once they see a gorgeous stranger's arm wrapped around you. 

"Thank you," you breathe out, clearing your throat as you take a step away from her. 

"Ooh, who's this, Y/N?" One of your friends coos, garnering a chorus of childish "oohs" and kissy noises from the others. Why are they so obnoxious?

You apologetically glance at the girl one more time before turning around to respond to them, but she speaks up before you can. 

"Kim Jisoo." She introduces, facing them with a wide smile. It's easy to see that she's done this before; her tone is pleasant and light, not even a hint of hesitancy in it. She's used to being the center of attention; you can tell by the way she carries herself and commands the space. 

"I see you guys are taking a tour, right?" She looks between all of you, though her eyes linger on you for a second too long to be brushed off as 'just friendly'. 

You nod, saying, "I can't find my last class. It's a Gen Ed one; World History, room 435. The map says it's in Complex D, but the room was vacant when we went by."

She listens intently, paying attention to your every word. "They must've handed out the old maps by accident, then. Mr. Johnson had to move rooms to accommodate larger class sizes. When do you have him?" 

You unfold your schedule again, gazing down at the slightly crumpled sheet until your eyes find their target. "Tuesdays and Thursdays, 1PM." 

Upon registering what you said, Jisoo does her best to contain the grin that threatens to spread across her face. "Ah, same as me! I can take you to the room, if you'd like. That way you can find it next week." She offers, pleased by the fact that she'll be seeing you more often. Your cute mannerisms have already thrown her for a loop, and she wants to get to know you better. 

"That would be great." You let out a relieved laugh, releasing the worry you felt; tours are meant to end within 20 minutes or so, and before Jisoo came you were afraid you'd never find your last class. She's saving the day again, it seems. 

"Great, follow me," she smiles warmly, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to turn you in the right direction. When you give your friends one last glance over your shoulder, you find them giving you thumbs up with smirks on their faces. One of them puckers their lips at you, and you stick your tongue out in return. 

You're not sure what they'll end up doing while you finish your tour, though it'll likely involve either skating or eating fast food. They have each other to keep themselves entertained, so you're not worried about them in the slightest. You make a mental note to text them when you're done to meet up again. 

Jisoo smiles like an idiot when she realizes what's happening behind her, failing miserably to hide it when you spin back around and give your full attention to her. 

"What?" You ask, leaning in closer to her to nudge her shoulder when she looks away, blushing. 

"Nothing," she shakes her head, only to be prompted by you again. "You're just cute, is all." 

You have to use all your power to hold back the squeal you want to let out at hearing that. Kim Jisoo, as you now know her to be, thinks you're cute? You must be dreaming. 

"That's funny, I don't remember turning into a mirror."

"Yah, babo!" She chuckles, not expecting that as she smacks the back of your head with no real force. The two of you share a laugh and continue talking while you make your way to the room.

Beeping sounds from the microwave bring Jisoo back down to Earth, causing the pleasant memory to fade more and more with every incessant signal that cuts through the air. She grabs a couple heat guards and approaches the machine, carefully opening the steaming package and pouring its contents into a big, shareable bowl. Though it may be Aera's favorite food, she'd be damned to not make enough for the two of you as well. After all, keeping her entertained will take plenty of energy. 

"Did this princess order one heaping bowl of popcorn or am I at the wrong castle?" Jisoo plays, padding into the room with a bright smile on her face as she looks over at her niece. The smell of her snack snaps Aera back to reality, making her eyes light up with pure joy as she leaps off of your lap and runs to Jisoo. She wraps her arms around her legs, thanking her in that sweet little voice of hers as she gazes up at her aunt with stars in her eyes. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She chants, wiggling her body around in excitement. She lets go when Jisoo goes to walk to the couch, following close behind her like an eager puppy. 

She approaches you again, making grabby hands for you to lift her onto your lap even though she's more than capable of getting up there by herself. Nevertheless, you pull her up with a humored grin, watching as she puts her hands in her lap and patiently waits for the two of you to get a bite first. Her ability to follow manners is commendable, though the slight twitch of her lip when she gets a whiff of the food is pretty adorable. 

"Dig in," you say around your mouthful of food, locking eyes with Jisoo when Aera jumps at the opportunity to follow your instructions. You never have to tell her twice when it comes to food. 

"Yep, definitely related." 

Jisoo laughs at your comment, reaching over top of Aera to flick you in the forehead. She shrugs at your pained exclamation, uttering a nonchalant "Sorry, not sorry," as the two of you crack up together.

----

"Y/N, how the hell did you manage to do that?" Jisoo whispers, not bothering to censor herself when she sees Aera fast asleep in your arms. It's not like she could hear her anyway. 

"She was already kinda tired when she got here; I just made sure to get that last little bit of energy out with the games. Have you forgotten that I know a thing or two about kids?" You tease, turning to her with a smile when you finish walking up the short staircase. 

"You don't understand: usually it takes us hours to settle her down. She's just a totally different person around you." 

"Must be my awesomeness." 

"Hmm, must be," Jisoo hums, quietly opening her bedroom door for you and watching as you carefully lay Aera down. You tuck her under the blankets with care, making sure to brush the hair out of her face and adjust her pillow a bit. Jisoo leans against the doorframe, adding the scene before her to her list of reasons for loving you. Seeing you in such a domestic situation gives her baby fever, and she has to push the persistent feeling away. 

"Ready?" You whisper with one last look over your shoulder, giving Jisoo your undivided attention once you confirm that Aera's alright. 

"Let's do it," she says, pulling the door to but not latching it. The two of you will be in the living room, just down the hall, and you want to be able to hear her in case she needs something. So responsible.

You take in the dorm as Jisoo leads you towards your destination, amazed at how much bigger it is than yours and Ryujin's. This one has separate rooms equipped with their own personal bathrooms, a decent kitchen, and, of course, a living area. Clearly, having ties to the school and being president of the student council come with some major perks. Your socked feet pad against the hardwood floor, and you close what little distance is left between Jisoo and yourself to press your body against her back, wrapping your arms around her. She lets out a little noise of surprise, but doesn't protest; she tucks one of her hands into your clasped ones and uses the other to rub your forearm. 

A few moments later you plop down onto the couch and get comfortable on the cushions. Jisoo digs around in her bag that leans against the tv stand, searching for the script of her upcoming production. Her shirt rides up slightly, giving you a perfect view of her beautifully sculpted stomach, and her skin looks ethereal as it glows in the soft lamplight of the room. Embarrassed for admiring her in such a way, you avert your gaze, failing to notice how she subtly bites her lip as she approaches you; she planned that little show, and it worked. 

"Okay, so here's the scoring sheet," she hands you a semi-formal looking paper, along with a pencil and clipboard to use as a stabilizer. "I'll be reading from the first few pages on my own, but I was wondering if you'd fill in for the male lead for some of the other parts? It's a lot easier to get into character if I have someone's energy to feed off of." 

You smile at how cute she sounded with her little rambled request, and nod. "Of course, Jisoo. I doubt I'll be any good, though." She releases a sigh at that, happy to have you agree; her plan is coming along nicely, but there's always room for things to go wrong. 

"I'm sure you're better than you think." 

"Stop sucking up, Chu. Flattery won't make me raise your grade," you warn, pointing the pencil at her sternly. Your tone sends a shiver down her spine, though it goes unnoticed by you. 

"Let's just get started." She concludes, doing her best to keep from getting too flustered under your already watchful eye. 

----

Her show is well underway, caught somewhere towards the end of act two, and you're enthralled by the performance she's giving. The paper that once rested in your lap is marked up with comments of praise and proud annotations to accompany your high scoring, though now it lays forgotten about on the coffee table, serving no purpose any longer. You finished all of the required sections necessary for your peer review, and now you're just enjoying the journey that Jisoo is continuing to take you on. 

You look back up into her eyes after reading off the lines of the character you're filling in for, looking completely unskilled next to the pure talent that she's exuding. She stands from the couch, looking down at you with an exasperated expression as she remains in character. 

"You don't get it!" She raises her voice slightly, though not loud enough to wake Aera. Even while in the intense mindset she has to be in for her character, she keeps one foot in the reality of this world, making sure to behave appropriately. 

"Enlighten me, then." You stand and retort, shifting a bit closer to her after reciting your line. 

"Only when I'm with you do I feel true happiness. Your kind eyes bring me comfort like no other; I'm safe in your arms. For you, my love," she pauses, her eyes brimming with tears from the emotional words she's spent so much time rehearsing. "...there isn't a thing in this world that I wouldn't do." Your breath is held tightly in your throat, and your hands subconsciously grip onto the material of your jeans. 

Only now do you realize how close the two of you have migrated to one another; she's merely a breath away, so close you can feel the warmth radiating from her. You swallow thickly, feeling your nerves come alive with every second that passes in heated silence, neither of you knowing what to do now. You've lost the desire to read your next line, and she doesn't seem too upset by that fact. Her eyes slowly scan over your features, and the lovesick look in them makes you question if she's still in character or slipping out of it. 

After her gaze darts down to your lips and she licks her own without even realizing it, you seriously begin hoping for the latter of the two options.

She searches your face for any sign of refusal as she leans in closer, now bringing her arms up to wrap around your waist and lightly ball the material of your shirt up into her fists. Your hands rest on her shoulders, and you glide your fingertips over her jawline. A singular nod is the last form of consent that you give her before she pulls you closer. 

Her lips ghost over yours, receiving some of the vanilla balm you applied earlier; her breath hitches when you tug at the collar of her university sweater, teasingly taking her bottom lip between your teeth. She wants to savor this moment, so she fights against her urge to dive right in and get lost in you. 

Within seconds, she's kicking herself for that decision. 

"Auntie? Y/N?" Aera calls sleepily from just around the corner, making the two of you spring away from each other. When she appears less than a second later, you realize how close you had been to getting caught. Jisoo refuses to meet your gaze when you look towards her, and that simple action disheartens you a bit.

"Hey, sweetheart. Bad dream?" You ask, using your inference skills after noticing the way that she's clutching her stuffed bunny close to her chest. Her lip trembles as she nods, and the sight breaks your heart. Quickly, you pick her up again, assuring her that she's safe and that you'd slay any monster that dared to hurt her, even in her dreams. A small smile tugs at her lips, and she brings a fist up to rub her eye. "How about this: I'll do a quadruple check of the room for you, and stay with you until you fall asleep. Sound good?" 

She utters a tired, "Yes, Y/N-yah", before laying her head on your shoulder and waving a goodbye towards Jisoo as you take her back to the room. 

Four sweeps of the room and one fight with a ghost later, you tuck her in again and lay a sweet kiss to her forehead. "Love you," she mumbles lazily, making your heart melt. Kids say that phrase quickly, without even realizing the weight that it has, but you're always glad to accept whatever they imagine it to be. Whether she loves you for playing with her, tucking her in, or defending her honor against imaginary monsters, you don't really care all that much -- she loves you in the ways that she knows how, and that's all that matters.

"I love you, too, Aera. Sleep well." You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and settle against the wall, prepared to come through on your promise. 

----

"Hey," you start, albeit a bit awkwardly. 

"Hey," Jisoo returns, pushing her leftovers from the restaurant around her plate half-heartedly. You approach the marble countertop that she sits behind, silently begging for her to look up at you. 

"Should we talk about earlier?" You quietly ask, picking at imaginary imperfections on the surface of the countertop. 

"What about it?" 

"We practically kissed--"

"It was in the script to do so, Y/N." She says, finally looking up at you. She sounds a bit hostile now, like she's getting defensive for some unknown reason. 

"Oh," the simple utterance is all you can manage, seeing as how your brain is running a mile a minute. You want to ask if it meant anything else to her -- if she would've taken it farther, had Aera not walked in -- but you don't.  Her tone serves as enough of an answer, and you're not sure you could stand to hear her verbalize your fears anyway. 

"Well I guess I should go, then." You retract your hand and put it in your pocket, realizing how stupid you were for thinking she could like you back. She doesn't; she was just in need of a helping hand tonight, and you offered that. You shouldn't have tried to turn it into anything that it wasn't. 

Hearing the disappointment in your voice makes her want to confess right then and there, but something still holds her back -- some force is yelling at her to keep her feelings hidden for fear of rejection. "I can drive you." 

You shake your head. "Nah, it's okay. I'll have Ryujin come get me. You can't leave Aera here and I wouldn't want to have to wake her up just for you to drive me across campus." Jisoo agrees, realizing that she didn't even think about that at first. 

"Goodnight, Jisoo." You say, heading off towards the front door. She returns the gesture, reminding you to be safe as she locks it behind you and watches you dial up your roommate's number. Before long, she pulls into one of the parking spaces in front of the dorm, and the two of you drive away. 

Click Here For Part 2

#jisoo kim #kim jisoo #kim jisoo x fem reader #jisoo x fem reader #kpop blackpink #blackpink #blackpink fanfic #blackpink angst #blackpink fluff #blackpink imagines #blackpink oneshots #blackpink scenarios #jisoo turtle rabbit kim #park chaeyoung #roseanne park #jennie kim #lisa manoban #let-them-read-fics #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #blackpink x reader #ryujin #itzy #yeji #yuqi #gidle #red velvet #seulgi #yeri

[forever-rogue]

Camisado 1/2

A/N: Hey, hi, hello! Here is first part my little Frankie Royalty AU, written for @its--fandom--darling ‘s follower celebration. The second part will be here soon, but for now enjoy some pain and angst!

Pairing: Frankie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: language, angst

PART 2

MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Francisco?” your voice was low and gentle as you stepped into kitchens and scanned the room for any sign of life. A frown crossed your features when you thought he might not be here at all, but he quickly popped up from behind the counters with a smile gracing his features and a dusting of flour on his nose.

“Hello there,” he beamed as you bounced over to him, quickly reaching up and wiping the flour away before kissing his nose.

“Hello there,” you repeated, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was there before pulling him in for a quick kiss, “I’ve missed you.”

"Feeling cheeky today, Princess?" Frankie's hands found your face as he pulled you closer to him and stole a handful of kisses. You were left breathless and yearning for more as eagerly grinned at him. He stopped for a moment and studied you gently playing with a lock of your hair, in awe of your beauty as always, "you are so beautiful, my love."

"And just who is feeling cheeky now, sweet Francisco?" you teased, running a hand through his dark curls as his hands found purchase on your waist. You giggled as he picked you up and set you down on the kitchen counter. He grinned as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"I think its you, Princess. Coming in here and openly kissing the kitchen boy?" he asked before kissing along your jaw and down your neck, causing you to bite back a moan, "so brazen. Where anyone could see us...my oh my."

"Shut up," you pulled him back to your lips, "its because I happen to be in love with you, you absolute fool!"

“Are you?” he must have been feeling extra cheeky because he slowly started to lift your skirts and trailed a hand along your calf, a juxtaposition of calloused hands and delicate skin as he kissed you till you were breathless, “I happen to be in love with you too, Princess.”

“Call me by my name,” you whispered in his ear, knowing there was nothing better than hearing it slip from his tongue. There was no need for formalities when it was just the two of you, there was no barrier, no difference, just two people in love, “please.”

And then it came forth, delicate and gentle as he trailed his lips along your neck, stopping just before the shell of your ear. He nipped lightly at the soft skin, making sure to leave no marks; if any were seen you’d both be dead. One day, you’d always promised, one day he could mark you as he pleased for the world to see, to let everyone know you were his. But he was no fool - he knew one day would never come, despite your honeyed words and saccharine promises. He was a servant, no more, no less, and you were a princess, everything he was not. 

But he did love you, truly, deeply, and completely, and you loved him. That was no lie - but you could never be together. It was just...the way the world worked. People like Francisco Morales didn’t get the opportunity to be with royalty. People like yourself were not allowed the liberty of love and choosing your own happiness and destiny.

“Francisco,” it was a heady whisper as you started to tug at his shirt, slowly un-tucking it from the waistband of his trousers. His hands were roaming your frame as you closed your eyes and lost yourself in him.

Before it could get any further, you heard your name shouted from afar. Both of you froze immediately, a sense of terror bubbling up inside as Frankie pulled back and you hopped off the counter and straightened your skirts while he tucked his shirt back in. Deft hands help to smooth your hair back into place as you both took a few steps apart to appear as if you had been engaging in polite conversation, rather than about to have one another on the kitchen counter.

“Princess!” you rolled your eyes dramatically at Frankie before he shot you a quick wink as your father’s guard stormed into the kitchen.

“Calm down,” you huffed with a sigh that you didn’t even bother to cover up as you waved him off, “no need to alert the cavalry, I’m right here.”

“What are you doing in the kitchens?”

“I fancied a snack,” you lied, reaching for an apple in the bowl that was thankfully right in front of you, “and I came into the kitchen to look for something, as one normally does when it has been some time since they’ve eaten.”

He scowled, somewhere between annoyance and not quite believing you. You swallowed nervously, praying there was nothing to prove what the two of you had actually been doing. There was no evidence that anything happened, so he couldn’t do anything, “your father and mother request your presence in his study. Immediately.”

“Immediately?” you scoffed, “I’ve got plans for my afternoon - anything important can surely be handled by my sister, no? She’s to be the Queen after all, not me. I’m nothing to them, except another burden. Surely they meant Helena and not me.”

“They asked for you specifically, Princess,” he was quick to grow weary of your attitude. Normally you were polite, and mostly kept to yourself, but this particular guard was nothing but pain. Everything with him had to be by the book and he refused any levity, “you’re to come with me.”

“Fine,” you agreed, you took a loud, crunching bite of your apple as you walked over to him. Waving a hand at him, you ushered him along, “let’s go then, and get this over with. I have a multitude of things I’d rather be doing.”

He was silent as he led the way, allowing you to steal one last look at Frankie, who was almost red-faced as he tried not to laugh. You blew him a kiss followed by a wave as you put on your most neutral and disinterested face. You’d come back and find him later to finish what you started; if nothing else, you at least would get to spend time with him. There was nothing better than that.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Ahhh, there she is,” your father stood up as soon as you walked into the room. Confusion marred your features as you look behind you to see who he was talking about. He walked over to you and put his hand on your shoulders and studied you, “I’m talking about you, of course. My youngest, my sweetest-”

“I’m not your youngest, father,” you reminded him, “I have two brothers, or have you forgotten about them? I’d also wager that-”

“Must you always talk back?” your mother’s face was set in a stern expression as she was perched on the edge of your father’s desk, “it’s unbecoming of a young lady. Husbands do not want a wife that’s always so haughty.”

“Bold of you to assume I want a husband,” you insisted as you crossed your arms over your chest, causing your father to sigh, “and if a husband does not want to listen to me talk or engage in conversation, then he is not a husband I want.”

“You don’t get a choice in that.”

“I refuse to marry a man I do not love.”

“You are not in a position to argue,” your father held up his hands, silencing the two of you, ever the neutral ruler. Rolling your eyes you waited for him to go on, “it is your duty, by birth, to marry a man of our choosing. You’re a Princess, you do not marry for love. You marry for relations, to produce heirs, for your people.”

“I am a second born,” you huffed, trying to understand what he was saying, “and a daughter at that. What does it matter? I’m not going to Queen, I’m just...me.”

“It does not matter,” your mother insisted, “you are a part of this family and you will do as we say. Your marriage is just as important as those of your sister and your younger brothers.”

“Fine,” there was no point in trying to argue, “should I ever find a man that I love that meets your standards, I’ll let you know. May I be excused now? I have other things I’d like to attend to -”

“That’s why you’re here,” your brow furrowed in confusion, but suddenly you felt like there was a lump in your throat, “you will get married and you will have a husband of our choosing. It just so happens that we’ve chosen one for you already.”

“What? No, no, no, no,” you eyes widened in shock as panic set deep in your bones, “you can’t just do that. W-with no warning-”

“We can and we have,” she raised an eyebrow, “you’re already older than you should be. Luckily, we’ve found a wonderful husband for you, the Lord of Easterly.”

“Easterly?” you repeated as you felt the life leave your heart, “he’s so much older, and he’s terrible! Everyone loathes him, surely you can’t be...you can’t be serious.”

“He’s a good match,” your mother insisted firmly, “and frankly are better than you could have hoped for. You should be thanking your lucky stars your father is king and could even arrange such a match at your age. You’re not getting any younger and you should have been married years ago.”

“Please,” your mind was already racing with hundred million thoughts, but they all went back to Frankie. You couldn’t get married, not to this man - a man you’d barely met and certainly didn’t love. No, no, no, this was all wrong. Suddenly your attitude went away and you were ready to beg and grovel, “please don’t do this. Please, you can’t force me to marry him...I beg of you. I will do anything, just don’t make me marry him. Please.”

“It also already done and settled,” her voice was cold and ice and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear there was a pleased little smirk tugging on the corners of her mouth, “you’ll be married by the end of next month and then you will go to live with your new husband. You may be unhappy, but this is your duty. This has always been your duty.”

“No,” your lip trembled with effort as you tried not to cry, “I won’t do it.”

“There is no won’t, you will do this,” she crossed her arms over her chest and your father remained silent. You looked between the two of them, hoping, wishing, praying, that one of them would say something else. One of them had to be on your side, right?

“And if I refuse?”

“You will not,” her glare was cold as ice as she stared you down. You swallowed thickly but willed down all the ugly, vile things you wanted to say. You’d already angered them, and you needn’t poke the bear further...you didn’t want to know what else they could be capable of, “now go. An official announcement will be made at the end of the week and then we will plan your wedding.”

“I hope you know that I hate this,” it was the only thing that came to mind, “I will never forgive you for this.”

“We have nothing to be sorry for,” your father finally chimed in as he looked down at you, “you have always known that this was your duty, and now its your turn to fulfill that duty. Now run along and learn some manners and respect.”

You offered them a mock bow before storming out of the door, without waiting for it to be opened. Tears of anger and frustration rolled down your cheeks as you tried to still your racing mind. A month, you had a month. A month to figure out how to get out of this situation once and for all. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

You watched as rain poured outside your window, tapping on it gently as you cried and cried. At some point, you weren’t sure if it was the raindrops obscuring your vision or your own tears making it cloudy. As soon as you’d stepped foot back outside that afternoon the skies had opened and rain had poured down, covering the earth as if it was weeping with you. You’d been so caught up in your sorrow, you’d forgotten about anything else - including meeting Frankie at your secret spot in the gardens. 

You clutched the small stuffed bunny in your arms as you cried and hiccuped, wishing that this would all go away. You’d had the little stuffed animal for some time, a secret little present from Frankie because he knew how much you loved the small creatures. No matter how long you’d had it, it still managed to smell of him - a sweet, saccharine smell.

A soft knock came from the windows, startling you as you wiped away your tears and started at the large window. You weren’t sure if it had been your imagination or if you’d actually heard something, but as soon as you’d seen the shadow moving about, you were sure it was someone. 

Slipping out from the soft blankets, you padded over and slowly opened the window. You immediately spied Frankie as he finally looked relieved to finally see you. 

“Princess,” he whispered as he reached out and gently touched your face, grounding him in the fact that you were okay. But his heart wrenched when he realized that your face was wet, but not from the rain, “you’re crying - what’s wrong? Y-you didn’t come to our spot.”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you took his hand in yours and pulled him inside the warmth of your rooms. It was silent while you made quick of pulling off his jacket and laying it on the back of your chair. Pulling him gently, you took him towards the warm, crackling fire, flopping down on the floor next to it, “I forgot, Frankie. I…”

And then it was silent for some time. Frankie sat next to you, silent as he warmed up and wanted for you to carry on with what you had to say. After some time, he pulled you in his lap as he studied your face. He brought a hand up, slowly, delicately as he traced over your features before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“What’s happened, my sunshine?” he whispered as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his shoulder. Before you could get out any proper words, you ended up crying again, tears quickly soaking through his tunic as you cried. He held you gently, rocking back and forth as he tried to get you to quiet down so you could speak to him, “shhh, my sweet love. It’s okay, it’s all okay...I’ve got you.” 

"Frankie," you finally managed to pull yourself together enough to spot the tears from spilling, "I received horrible news today...the worst thing that could possibly happen occurred today…"

"Whatever could it be?" he reached up and gently wiped away your tears from your cheeks and pushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I am to be married," you finally said the words out loud for the first time, shocking you both are vile they sounded, "by the end of next month. To Lord Easterly of all people."

"Oh."

“This is the worst thing to happen,” you whispered softly, “I-I don’t know what to do. Francisco, I love you - you’re the one I want to m-”

“You must marry him,” he stated; there was no emotion, no hesitation or anything. His voice was neutral - calculated to show no trace of emotion, “if your parents arranged your marriage to him, then you must marry him.”

“Frankie,” you pulled back, your face colored in hurt and shock, “I-I don’t love him, I don’t want to marry him. I love you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted, “it is your duty to marry him.”

Inside, his own heart was breaking into a million tiny pieces, mere fragments of a whole. He wanted to cry - to scream and argue and hurt everyone that had brought this upon you. But instead he just...shut down. In some ways, he’d spent the last few years preparing for this moment, knowing that eventually it would be inevitable. He was a stupid, foolish man to fall in love with you in the first place. He had no right, no reason to - he was of one world and you were of another. You could never be together. Never. And even though he’d always known that, locked away in the back of his mind, this didn’t make the crushing blow any easier. He was so in love with you, it was hard to believe that his love could ever die; sometimes it left him breathless just to think about how much he was enamored by you. 

But you could never be his. 

“Francisco,” you shook your head as you grabbed his face and turned his chocolate eyes towards you, “what on earth are you saying? I thought you...I thought you loved me? I can’t marry him, I will never be happy again if I do. It’s supposed to be you, my love. No one else.”

“Don’t be foolish,” his voice cracked as he took your hands and pulled them away, “we can never be together, we both know that. It was only a matter of time...we’ve always known it would come to this. You must do as they say.”

“I-I-I don’t understand,” you shook your head, blinking back tears as you pulled away from Frankie. He stared at the fireplace as he refused to make eye contact with you, “you want me to marry him?”

“I don’t,” he admitted quietly, “gods, of course I don’t. But there is no choice, no other way. We both know that. If I could, I would marry you right now, and take you away from this forever. But I can’t do that...we would never work. I know it’s not what you want to hear, and we’ve both been blissfully ignorant of that fact, but it was always bound to come to an end. That will never change how much I love you.”

“You want me to marry a man I do not love because I’m being told to,” you were crying now, fully bawling at blatant denial of...you, "you want me to subject myself to a life of unhappiness? You can't...you won't be able to go with me."

"You know your duty-"

"That is such shit!" you shouted at him, "you love me, right? We'll run away together - we can get married and live happily far away from here."

"And what? You'll just be found and brought back and I'll be jailed if not hanged," he threw his hands up in frustration, "or worse yet, we'll both be hanged. I can't...I can't give the life you deserve."

"We'll go far away," it was a meek protest as you contemplated dropping to your knees to beg him to stay and fight for you, "no one will know who we are. I swear it - please, Frankie. I don't want anything else but you. That's all I want - you. Just you. Please."

"I'm sorry," he stood up and crossed his arms over his chest as he deflected from the situation, "I can't do that. You have to do what you're told to do."

"So you don't love me...has this all been a lie then?"

"I do love you."

"It doesn't feel like it. Stay with me then!"

"I can't do that. You know that - we don't have a choice."

"Everything is a choice!" you shouted angrily, "everything!"

"Do you have any clue how hard this is for me too?!" you'd never heard him raise his voice this loudly before and took you aback for a moment as you pouted at him, "to see the woman I love every single day but not to be able to be with her? Having to see her in secret? I want to show the world I love you, I want everyone to know! But I can't - for your safety and mine. It pains me every day not to be able to love you as I want!"

"Then go with me," you reached for his hand but he quickly pulled out of your grasp, "we can run away together. Please don't leave me. Please."

"You know it has to be this way," his voice shook as a tear rolled down his cheek, "you know how it has to be. I will always love you. You have my heart, always and forever."

"Don't go," he started walking back to the window, refusing to look back over at you. You chased after him but he turned away, "please, Francisco. I'm begging you, I will do anything to get you to stay."

"Please don't…"

"W-we still have time," you were grasping at straws, but it was all you could think of doing, "we'll figure something out. What if I tell my parents we plan to marry? Or that I am with child?"

"They'll have me hanged before you could finish telling them and they'd force you to marry to cover up your pregnancy," you knew he was right.

"We can...we can make the most out of our time together," he turned to face you, and you met those eyes you'd fallen in love with one last time, "there is time...we can…"

"I don't think that's a good idea," he whispered softly, "we shouldn't make it harder than it already is. We can just end it now…"

"Please," you tried to grab his hand as he sidled along the ledge. Your soul felt like its light had been extinguished as he shook his head, recoiling from your touch as though it was laced with venom, "Francisco. I love you more than anything. You are my heart, my home-"

"Don't do this," his words cut like a knife at your throat as you realized he was serious. He wasn't coming back, "this ends tonight. If we keep going its only going to hurt worse. We'll cut our losses now. I love you, Princess, so damn much it takes my breath away. But this is the way."

"I love you," it was a strangled cry as you watched him go, "I will never love another. Only you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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