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drawlfoy · 2 years

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pink in the night p.4 - FINALE!

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series masterlist

pairing: hufflepuffmuggleborn!reader x draco

summary: when y/n y/l/n starts having weird, recurring dreams about her long time unrequited crush in her 6th year, she begins to wonder where fantasies end and reality begins.

(based on a request from anon asking for a fic about a hufflepuff reader, who had been average in hogwarts before she had a big glow up. i took many, many creative liberties with the plot, as you can clearly see in the summary).

warnings: mentions of sex, implied sex, violence, mild gore, explicit language, mentions of drug use (if u squint ig)

a/n: remember when i said i was splitting this into two parts? nvm! this is the whole finale! please heed the warnings on this one!

wc: 12.6k

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The fork Y/N had been holding made a dull clank when it hit her plate. Thankfully—was it?—Draco hadn’t even looked her direction since Pansy had sat next to him,

Her mouth felt fuzzy, but she picked up her fork, speared a potato, and began to eat.

The first night was the worst. Y/N broke down in her dorm bed as Susan hugged her fiercely and promised her that it would get better.

“I feel so fucking stupid,” she gasped, swiping the tears away with the heels of her palms. “I knew it was hopeless. I knew this would happen.”

“It’s okay,” soothed Susan, smoothing her hair away from her face. “It’s okay to be upset. Love makes us all fools.”

“I never loved him,” said Y/N sourly, her voice cracking.

Susan shrugged. “It’s just a saying. But it doesn’t matter whether you loved him or not. What matters is that you cared for him and he didn’t treat you the way you deserved. It was inevitable that he was going to see other people, sure, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be hurt. It’s good that you feel hurt. It means that you have it in you to care for someone blindly.”

“For the last time!” added Y/N. She blew her nose loudly.

“Hopefully not,” said Susan, her eyes crinkling in amusement. “That’s what romance is—that’s what makes it so fun. It would be boring if you knew everyone you dated was perfect. Then you wouldn’t know the right person when he comes.”

“I think we both need therapy, Susan.” Y/N’s sobs had since settled. Now she just wanted to sleep. “That sounds a bit masochistic.”

“We can discuss mental health professionals after you get some rest,” Susan decided, grabbing Y/N’s comforter and pushing her into her nest of pillows. “The first night is always the worst. I know it feels like the end of the world now, but the sun will shine tomorrow. You’ll see.”

And so it did. The sun rose, set, and gently stroked her cheeks as she walked between classes. She went to dueling practice, hung out with her friends, and studied in the library. January swallowed her and spat her out in the middle of February before she knew it.

On the 13th of the month, Y/N sat at the Ravenclaw table for lunch with Terry, as she so often did now when Susan went into Hogsmeade with Theo for the day.

“Any plans for Valentine’s Day?” asked Terry..

“No, none!” she chirped. “What about you?”

Terry grimaced. “Well, after what happened with Cho…not much.”

“I’m sorry,” said Y/N sympathetically. Terry and Cho had been together since November. Terry had really liked her, too, but Cho had broken things off after they had returned from break, saying that she still had things to work through and couldn’t handle another relationship. She supposed she understood. She couldn’t even imagine the heartbreak of seeing a partner pass away. “Is there something you’d like to do?”

“Platonic Valentine’s date?” asked Terry, wiggling his fingers at her. “I’ll buy you sugar quills and let you beat me at Exploding Snap.”

“Only if we play Exploding Snap at Madame Puddifoot’s.”

“They’re going to kick us out if we do that.”

“That’s part of the fun!” Y/N was already grinning ear to ear. “I’m in.”

24 hours later, they were staring at each other across the tiny table. Madame Puddifoot herself had set out plates of fine china cups, filled to the brim with steaming pink and gold tea that smelled of roses. Terry and Y/N had taken one look at them and shoved them aside.

“You deal,” said Y/N, tossing her deck to him. He caught it before it managed to sail over his shoulder and hit Susan and Theo, sitting in the booth behind them.

“You guys,” Susan groaned, peering over her date’s shoulder. “Please don’t. This is a public establishment.”

The cards crackled as Terry split the deck, shuffling them once in an elegant swoosh. “Bavarian version?”

“Only if you think you can handle it.” Y/N smirked, watching as he quickly arranged the deck into a circular formation.

“First to get 7 pairs wins,” said Terry. “And if we tie, the winner is the one covered in the least soot.”

“Why not 11 pairs?”

“Because Puddifoot is looking at us weird.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just start!”

Just like that, they were off. Y/N had gotten 3 pairs in quick succession, only blowing up one card—the Manticore card.

“Bloody hell, Y/N,” Terry mumbled as they scrambled to turn the cards over and collect pairs before the entire desk combusted. “3 already?”

“You have 5,” said Y/N through gritted teeth, not even bothering to look at him as her nails scraped against the table. She flipped over another card—a Manticore.

“Fuck,” she mumbled. She’d exploded the last one. Now that it was destroyed, there was no way this one wasn’t going to blow too. She abandoned it in search of other pairs.

“Excuse me,” said a very stern, angry voice.

Y/N looked up, but not before the Manticore card went up in flames with a violent crack.

“This is highly inappropriate behavior,” said Madame Puddifoot, scowling down at them through her spectacles. “If you’ve not already noticed, today is a very special day to those of us enjoying the fruits of love and passion. No tomfoolery such as this is allowed. Out! Both of you!”

“You don’t understand,” simpered Y/N, blinking up through her lashes. In a last minute decision, she darted forward, taking Terry’s hand in hers. “This is our 1 month anniversary, He asked me out with Exploding Snap. It's very sentimental to us, you see. But I suppose if we aren’t welcome here we can leave.” She coaxed her lips into a pout. “Maybe the Three Broomsticks will be okay with us celebrating. We were just so excited to finally come here as a couple.”

Madame Puddifoot’s face contorted as she thought, her long nose wrinkling. Finally, she stepped back and nodded once. “Well, alright. I’ve forgotten the beauty of young love. It turns anything into an occasion. You’ll have to forgive me.”

“I understand,” said Y/N, sniffling for good measure. “Thank you, thank you!”

Susan caught her gaze. Her jaw was dropped. Once Y/N was sure Madame Puddifoot had walked far enough away that she wouldn’t notice, she sent her best friend a wink and let go of Terry’s hand.

“That was horrifying,” said Terry gravely. “Don’t ever fake cry again. It’s so…Slytherin of you.”

“And it kept us from getting kicked out, didn’t it? Also, I win.”

True to her word, they had both made 6 pairs, though Terry’s pale blue shirt was smudged with ash.

“Only because I let you.”

“Uh huh.”

Susan was still trying to catch her eye. Y/N frowned, mouthing a “what?” in her direction. In response, her roommate lifted her chin, looking pointedly at the space behind Y/N.

Slowly, Y/N eased around in her seat so she could peek over her shoulder. When her eyes met Draco’s, she whipped back around.

“Another round?” she squeaked at Terry, shoving her pairs in his direction. Draco was there with Pansy—surprise—but had been glaring at Y/N intensely.

“I dunno,” said Terry. “I feel like we’ve pushed our luck enough. Want to head back?”

“Sure,” said Y/N, secretly relieved to be given an out. Now that she knew that Draco could see and hear everything she did, she felt stiff and uncomfortable under the weight of his eyes. “Rematch in the common room?”

Y/N didn’t see Draco much outside of class anymore. Not like she had ever seen him much to begin with—but the occasional tapestry and side corridor episodes they’d shared over the last month of fall term constituted as extracurricular events to her. But now that he was apparently Pansy’s very committed and loving boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen when he wasn’t sitting across the room in Potions.

It was stupid, but she missed him sometimes. If anything, she missed getting to bitch at someone who had next to zero moral compass when it came to talking shit. In her dreams, when they weren’t shagging and she wasn’t waxing romantic, they would gossip. It wasn’t as though Y/N was particularly nasty, but Hufflepuff house was just too clean cut sometimes. It was nice to really complain about the way that Harry Potter and his friends consistently disrupted the school year to someone who had no interest in pretending to be morally spotless.

She also missed getting to kiss him and lay in his arms, too, but it would’ve been easier to forget all about him if it had been purely physical attraction like it’d started as. Now she actually knew him, and even worse, she liked what she knew about him. Disregarding the whole Death Eater thing—of course—but beggars can’t be choosers, and Y/N would’ve been ready to get on her knees and grovel if it meant going back in time and enjoying it all one last time.

And now Pansy got to enjoy every good thing that Y/N had seen during their time together. And Pansy had gotten to do it in this dimension! Life wasn’t fair.

The Monday after Valentine’s Day was strange. Y/N made a conscious effort to not look at Draco, but it was hard when he was so obviously staring at her from his seat on the other side of the room. When she finally dared to meet his eyes, he wrenched his own gaze away, staring at the table instead.

Once class ended, she thought about catching up with him to ask him what his deal was, but he was gone before she even finished packing her satchel. It was unnerving, really, the way he’d been looking at her.

Her mind was still preoccupied when Professor Trelawney addressed the class.

“Good morning, students,” she greeted, looking rather solemn. “I come with some…rather disappointing news. I trust each and every one of you, which is why it saddens me that one of you saw fit to break into the classroom last weekend and steal equipment.”

Y/N shared a wide-eyed glance with Terry, raising her eyebrows and pursing her lips dramatically.

“If you are in possession of an illegally required crystal ball,” said Trelawney, looking nearly close to tears, “Please return it as soon as possible. Many bad, bad things can happen if you use these special tools without proper supervision! Children, please heed my warning. The pupil who stole this will face great struggle should they choose to not come forward.”

Terry wiggled his brows back at her, but Y/N was feeling a little suspicious. Crystal ball? Wait a damn minute…

By the time dueling practice rolled around, she had largely forgotten about the whole ordeal. Y/N had been paired up with McLaggen, easily the most ruthless dueler on their team, and he was giving her enough to think about as she scrambled to defend herself in the dueling circle.

The classroom they practiced in was large, airy, and school gymnasium-like. The dueling circle was lined with mats and warded at the border to ensure that rogue spells didn’t attack the audience. Whenever Y/N hit the faded red mats (which happened a lot when she was up against McLaggen), she found that they smelled like salt and chalk.

Her wand was almost buzzing in her hand as she stalked along the perimeter of the circle, waiting for her opponent to retaliate. She’d somehow managed to get him good with a well aimed Jelly Legs jinx, but now that he’d recovered before she managed to disarm him, he was clearly miffed and ready for revenge.

“Watch your feet, Y/L/N,” called Professor Flitwick from the sidelines. Surprisingly, the Ravenclaw house Head was a marvelous and enthusiastic dueling coach. She accredited much of her improvement to his teaching. “He’s going to go for your feet unless you can extend your shield to the ground.”

Y/N frowned, deeply concentrating on the shield she had just raised with her wand. Sure enough, the pale blue shimmering air paused at her ankles. If he managed to make the mark, McLaggen would have no problem bringing her to the ground and disarming her.

If she recast it now, he would no doubt take the opportunity to strike her, but taking the time to wait for the right moment meant leaving her feet undefended. Though it would be tough to strike her under her shield, McLaggen was renowned for his perfect aim. She was on borrowed time.

So that settled it, then. She would make the first attack.

The room was completely silent now except for the slow thump of her steps and the rhythm of her exhales. McLaggen’s large, looming frame rotated in time with her movements, keeping his wand raised at the ready.

He wouldn’t expect her to be on the offense. It was unusual for the weaker, younger dueler to forgo a shield in order to lay on another hex in standoffs. This could work to her advantage, she realized. McLaggen would be ready to attack her when she removed the shield spell. But that would mean his own guard would be down. If she could non-verbally cast an attack…

Y/N walked another quarter of the circle, feeling magic gather at her wand hand, thrumming under her fingertips. McLaggen was smirking as he cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders.

Flipendo, Flipendo, Flipendo. Y/N shouted the words in her head, building up the strength to silently send it his way. One, two….three…

A crackling green ball burst from the tip of her wand at the moment she ended the shield spell and thrust her hand forward. McLaggen hadn’t even opened his mouth to speak the incantations of his hex before he was launched high in the air, crashing into the mats outside of the dueling lines.

“Absolutely marvelous use of non-verbal spellwork,” said Flitwick approvingly, giving her a very firm nod. “Spectacular. Well done.”

“Yeah, Y/N,” said Justin, creeping forward from the crowd of onlookers. “That was incredible. You just wiped the floor with him.”

Y/N grinned back at him before striding over to McLaggen and offering her hand. “I can’t believe I finally managed to best you.”

“Just barely.” He groaned as he rolled onto his back and let her help pull him to his feet. “Next time I’ll get you back.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

The floor was springy under her feet as she slowly stalked the outer rim of the dueling circle, her wand clutched tightly in her fingers. It was darker than the usual lighting they used for dueling practice, and Y/N had no clue how she’d ended up back in the circle.

That is, until she saw the bright blond head of hair at the opposite end. Then it all made sense.

“Hi,” Draco said. He wasn’t walking like she was. Instead, he was standing with his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked awkward.

“So it was you,” said Y/N, finally stopping her steps. “You stole the crystal ball from Trelawney.”

“She’s already noticed?”

“Unfortunately.” She rolled her wand between her fingers, letting the ridges of the handle pull across the pads of her fingertips. “Why’d you steal it? Is it for your task?”

It was a cruel reminder. He paled and shifted his weight. “No, actually.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. For one glorious moment, she forgot all about Pansy, entertaining the idea that Draco broke the crystal ball to confess his love and devotion for her. But then she remembered the way she had seen him bend down and kiss her forehead from across the Great Hall that morning, and reality settled into her stomach like a cold medicine ball. “Was this—” She motioned to the air between them “—an accident?”

“No,” Draco said, swallowing hard.

Anger rose in her chest when he didn’t elaborate. He had left her in December thinking that he was going to die. He had left her letting her believe he cared for her. And then he came back, dating Pansy Parkinson out of every other person available.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” she said, stiffly.

“Thank you.”

Y/N twirled her wand around her fingers once, twice, watching as the cherry red of the wood flashed around her nails.

“Dueling club, huh?” prompted Draco. It was stupid, really, how he was trying to make casual conversation after everything that had happened. After everything he’d done.

“Why are you here?” she asked finally, scowling.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s it?”

She stared at him, her mouth momentarily agape. “Yes, of course that’s it. If you’ll recall, you snogged me in a dark corridor, made me spend the entire break thinking that you were either dead or dying, and then proceeded to enter a very public relationship with the only person with which I’ve ever had a physical altercation. Do you seriously expect me to just forgive you like that?”

“Says the person who started dating the only person I specifically asked you not to go out with!” said Draco. He remained standing still, but his fingers were drumming along the length of his wand.

“Terry?!”

“Don’t play dumb,” he snapped. “I was there at Puddifoot’s, you know. I saw you two together. And you always sit together at lunch.”

She supposed she could tell him that she wasn't actually dating him, but she was furious, and his jaw seemed to clench the more he thought about her and Terry. “That doesn’t change anything. Like I said, I don’t do everything just become you tell me to.”

Suddenly it hit her.

“I know why you’re here now,” she said, sounding smaller. His silver eyes snapped up from his hands to meet hers, his brow raised. “You think that because I’m rolling back on my word with Terry, I’m going to stop protecting your secret, too.”

“Well, that’s—”

“How many times do I need to tell you, Malfoy?” Her voice was sharp, her consonants punctuated. It echoed. “Give me a fucking break. I’m not stupid. I know that some promises are more important than others. I’ve told you, time and time again, that I will. Not. Tell. So stop bugging me and—” She paused to look down at her body, seeing that she was once again in her Slytherin party dress, sans tights. “—and stop fucking fantasizing about me without my tights! That’s lewd and disgusting. Imagine how your girlfriend would feel knowing that thoughts like those are rattling around up there in that vacant brain of yours. Honestly! You’re depraved.”

Draco’s eyebrows were nearly touching his hairline, his jaw slack before he regained his composure. “You’re really going to start calling me Malfoy now? After everything?”

“Yes,” spat Y/N. “Now get out of my dream. Finite Incantatem!”

A flash of blue light sprung from her wand, puncturing Draco’s middle. Then he was gone, and Y/N was all alone in the abandoned dueling room.

The next morning, the news of Katie Bell’s return broke in the Great Hall. Y/N and Susan had left late due to Y/N being in a particularly rotten mood. Susan, to her credit, had stayed behind and listened to Y/N rant about how Draco had been the one to steal the crystal ball Trelawney had lectured their class about. Naturally, Y/N had twisted the details, omitting the bits where Draco was technically an enemy of the state. Her roommate shared her malaise nonetheless.

“I can’t believe him,” she had said, shaking her head. “What a twat. I’m glad you stood up for yourself. That must’ve been hard.”

One short, embarrassing sob session in their bathroom later, Y/N was fresh faced and ready to walk down to the Great Hall. The entire student body was buzzing as they pushed open the heavy doors.

“What’s going on?” asked Y/N as they settled down next to Hannah.

“I was wondering where you guys were,” replied Hannah. Her spoon clinked against her mug of steaming coffee as she stirred in swirls of cream. “You missed it. Remember Katie Bell, that 7th year Gryffindor who had been cursed?”

Susan and Y/N nodded.

“She’s back,” Justin cut in, for once looking excited. “She’s alright.”

“That’s great!” For the first time that day, her lips turned into a genuine smile. Katie Bell had been at the first Dueling Club practice she had attended and had been an angel, helping her walk through the motions and shake off the nervousness of being one of the only female students there. “Is she coming back to team practices, then?”

“She’s missing the tournament this weekend,” Justin said. “But I think she’s coming tomorrow night.”

Y/N bobbed her head, her newly discovered excitement wavering in the face of the upcoming weekend. Beauxbatons was hosting the annual Pygmy Invitational Dueling Tournament, and Y/N was finally competing. There were no divisions—she was just as likely to be against someone as renowned as Hristo Krum, Viktor Krum’s younger brother as she was a weaker, more novice dueler. She’d managed to put off thinking about it, planning on not letting it sink in until she was actually there—or, preferably, never—but she was already failing.

“Hey,” said Justin, reaching out to touch her elbow in a brief, perhaps not entirely platonic gesture. “You’ll do great.”

“Are you coming?” she found herself asking. Even though Justin had a knack for getting on her nerves on occasion, he was growing on her.

Justin flushed, setting his gaze on his plate. The precision in which he was slicing up the breakfast potatoes impressed her. “If you’d like me to. Do you think they’d let me?”

“I don’t see why they wouldn’t.” The only struggle would be finding a way to transport another student to France, but considering how wealthy the Finch-Fletch’s were, he could probably come across a Portkey some way or another.

Y/N finished up the rest of her breakfast, engaging in light conversation with her friends. Out of habit, she cast her gaze over to the Slytherin table, searching for a head of startlingly light hair amongst the sea of forest green. Draco wasn’t there. She berated herself for looking in the first place. What did it matter if he was there?

Her muted curiosity morphed into full-fledged concern when, by Thursday morning, she had yet to see Draco at all. He no longer showed up during meals, leaving Pansy to eat alone with a rather harrowed look on her face. He was nowhere to be seen in corridors between classes with his Slytherin friends, which she supposed made sense as he hadn’t shown up for class since Monday. And, of course, since she hadn’t seen him in person, he never appeared in her dreams.

When Y/N brought it up to Susan on her way to Divination, her friend had no idea.

“Theo hasn’t said anything to me,” she admitted. The heels of her loafers made satisfying clicks on the cobblestone as they walked. “We don’t really talk much about Draco when I see him, though. I can ask?”

“No, no, that’s okay,” said Y/N hurriedly. “No need. I’m still mad at him, anyway. I shouldn’t even be talking about him.”

“Smart! I’ve always heard that pretending that someone is actually dead is a good way to get over them.”

“Haha. Maybe I’ll try that.” She said this in a deceptively casual tone, and her blood ran cold. What if something truly awful had happened to him? Even if he was a right arse, he didn’t deserve to die.

Nausea built in her throat as she sat through the day’s Divination lecture. All she wanted was for her free period to begin so she could curl up in her dorm bed and nap. She’d barely slept since she’d dreamt of Draco on Monday.

She was just on the way towards the common room when Madame Pomfrey appeared around the corner, walking towards her with a purpose. Y/N was suddenly queasy. Could Madame Pomfrey tell if she was having her dreams again? Would she accuse her of stealing from Trelawney?

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said, her heavy footsteps coming to a halt in front of her. “You need to come with me.”

Her tone betrayed nothing. She spoke with her usual no-nonsense voice, but she at least didn’t look angry—just stoney faced.

“Er—well—alright then,” Y/N stammered. So much for her napping plans. She followed the healer down the corridor, up the stairs, and through the wide doors of the hospital wing. This was it. She was going to be blamed for Draco’s theft, and she was going to get expelled. Well, maybe not that. Trelawney would just look at her in class with a deeply hurt expression, like she had personally betrayed her professor. And, although Y/N was never particularly attuned to Divination, the sadness she’d see in one of her mentors’ eyes would be almost worse.

The hospital wing was remarkably quiet. Their footsteps echoed as they walked past the white beds, all empty except for one at the end, the furthest from the door. That one was obscured entirely from view by crisp white curtains, sparking a morbid interest in Y/N. Unless someone was seriously injured or were changing, curtains were rarely used.

To her surprise, Madame Pomfrey didn’t lead her through the beaded entrance at the end to her office for a serious talking-to. Instead, she motioned towards the curtains.

“You have a visitor,” said the healer, ignoring Y/N entirely and poking her head through the curtain.

She was too far away to hear whatever the patient whispered back.

“It’s the girl you’ve been moaning about,” added Madame Pomfrey, rather snippily for someone who was treating patients. She turned to face Y/N. “Come along, you. Your free period doesn’t last all day.” A scraping sound emanated from the metal rods as she parted the curtains.

The first thing that hit her was the smell of Dittany—a strong musky, herbal scent with notes of mint. Y/N had smelled it the first time when she’d sliced her finger in Potions class in second year, and she’d never forgotten the way the viscous brown substance looked as it trickled into her cut.

Madame Pomfrey stepped aside from the gap she’d created in the curtains, ushering her inside. “I’ll let you know when you need to leave.”

Y/N crept forward, passing the threshold of the curtains. She gasped when she saw who was inside. “Malfoy?”

He looked awful, even worse than when she saw him that night in December. He was so gray that he resembled a corpse. The crisp white hospital linens were pulled tight around his otherwise bare chest, where she could see the beginnings of angry red gashes poking out from above the sheets.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” said Madame Pomfrey before shutting the curtains behind Y/N.

When she was sure that Pomfrey’s footsteps had faded, Y/N produced her wand and cast a silencing spell around the curtains, unsure what else to do or what to say. Finally, when she met his hooded eyes, she settled on:

“Are you alright?” That was a stupid question. Thankfully, he ignored it completely.

“You came.” He was gaping at her vacantly. “I didn’t think…didn’t think you would.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” said Y/N. “Pomfrey didn’t tell me who it was.”

He sighed, then shut his lips, pouting childishly.

“What happened to you?” she asked. Everything in her wanted to come up and embrace him, brush his hair away from his forehead, and tell him how much she’d missed him and how afraid she was for him, but the thought of acting on these desires made her sick to her stomach. “Who did this to you?”

Draco stared blankly at her before letting his head fall back on the pillow.

“When did this happen?”

“I miss you.” He said this with his eyes closed, so quietly Y/N thought she had imagined it.

“What?”

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled. “None of this is fair.”

“You’re not making any sense. Why did you call me here? Where’s Pansy?” She gingerly sat down on the chair beside his bed, which produced a little creak as she transferred her weight onto the seat. At the sound, his eyes cracked open and he twisted, wincing as he reached out. After some waving about, his fingers found her hand.

She stiffened. Worry welled up in her throat. His hand was blazing hot, warm from sleep.

“Don’t go,” he whispered as she attempted to wrench herself from his grip. “Please don’t go.”

“You’re not well,” she said, pointing out the obvious. Draco hardly seemed to hear or register anything that she had said to him. Realization hit her when she saw the empty potion bottles on the nightstand. Madame Pomfrey must’ve dosed him with a cocktail of pain potions, leaving him with barely half his mind. She was speaking to the most incoherent version of Draco she’d ever seen.

He probably wouldn’t remember any of this, she bitterly thought to herself. She would have to be the one who carried the burden of this interaction.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done.”

“It’s okay.” It definitely wasn’t, but Y/N wasn’t about to say so to an invalid clearly on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

“I’m not allowed to love you,” he said, almost ruefully.

“I’m aware,” Y/N snapped.

“I miss you,” he said again, his fingers tightening around hers. “I wish you still called me Draco.”

Y/N didn’t even dignify this with a response. This wasn’t even a conversation—he was so high on whatever Madame Pomfrey had given him that he probably didn’t even realize that she was actually there.

“I hate Terry Boot,” he mumbled. “It’s not fair.”

Y/N blinked. What had Terry ever done to him?

“You have to stay,” he said. Y/N cocked her head.

“I’m here,” she said gently, though she knew it was futile. He wouldn’t understand, even if he did hear her.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” He was begging now, which confused Y/N. She hadn’t so much as shifted since she tried to pull her hands from his in the beginning. Nothing in her body language hinted at her leaving. He must’ve been so far gone that he was hallucinating her getting up and letting go.

“I’m right here,” she repeated. Tentatively, and mostly because she knew he wouldn’t remember, she leaned forward and touched her palm gently to his cheek. He pressed into the contact like a housecat, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I don’t deserve you,” he croaked. “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Y/N’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“I love you,” he breathed. “I’m yours.”

Her heart dropped. She pulled her hand away from his face, feeling for a moment as if she was going to puke right then and there.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she whispered, feeling hot tears prick at the backs of her eyes. “I’ll ask Pomfrey to get Pansy.” Because if he was going to confess his love to anyone, it was going to be Pansy Parkinson, heiress to the Parkinson fortune and by all accounts a perfect Slytherin Pureblooded Princess. It wasn’t going to be Y/N.

He made a small sound of protest as she stood up and wrenched her fingers from his grip. Her heart ached as she looked down at him, taking in his newfound feebleness and delirium.

“Don’t,” he rasped. “Please—don’t go—”

Y/N waved her wand, breaking the silencing charm before stepping through the curtains without another word.

“Back so soon?” asked Madame Pomfrey. She was on the other side of the room, tediously logging the potion inventory into a sheet of parchment.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Y/N said. “He thinks I’m someone else—his girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson. He’s very discombobulated.”

Madame Pomfrey frowned. “Girlfriend? The Slytherin girl with black hair?”

“That’s Pansy.”

“She was just in,” she said. “She dropped off notes. He asked for you by name.”

“He has no idea what he’s saying,” said Y/N stubbornly. “He didn’t understand anything I said to him. He didn’t mean to ask for me, I’m sure of it.’

She bid her goodbyes to Madame Pomfrey before heading to her next class.

Her sheets felt stiffer than usual. And warmer, very warm, like she wasn’t alone.

Y/N jerked awake to find herself in the hospital bed with a very awake, very lucid Draco staring at her. The tiny bed left barely any space between the two of them, and she’d found that part of her body was draped over his.

“Fuck,” she hissed, frantically pulling the blankets off of her and scrambling out of bed.

“How are you here?” asked Draco. His voice was prim, crisp, and posh—a return to normalcy. “I haven’t seen you in days. I thought we only dreamt of each other when I saw you.”

Y/N sighed. “I did see you today. Pomfrey got confused. She brought me to you instead of Pansy.”

“Oh,” said Draco. He was significantly paler. “I don’t remember.”

“I’m not surprised,” she responded. “You were absolutely delirious. Completely nonsensical.”

“What kinds of things did I say?”

Y/N shrugged. “Nothing important.” Because it really wasn’t, not in the grand scheme of things. Because he didn’t mean anything that he’d said.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I think you thought I was Pansy,” said Y/N. “So you said some weird things.”

“Like what?”

“Things,” she hissed through her teeth.

“What kind of things?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Y/N rubbed the bridge of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. “What happened to you? Why are you in the hospital wing?”

“Potter cursed me,” said Draco. “He used some backyard homemade curse that almost killed me.”

Y/N gasped. “What? Why?”

“He suspected that I was behind Katie Bell’s affliction,” he said simply.

“On Tuesday?” Y/N knew that if she thought about it for long enough, she’d feel nauseous at the thought of what he’d had to endure. But now she was numb, instead focused on the hurt that he’d caused her over the past month.

He nodded.

“You need to ask Pomfrey for the antidote to this whole dreaming business,” Y/N informed him. “I’m not going to ask. She’s going to think I was the one who stole the crystal ball, and you’re under her care, anyway. It’ll be more convenient if you ask.”

“I can’t ask her either!” he said. “If I do, she’ll know it was me. I can’t have a target on my back. Not now.”

“Well then.” Y/N scowled as she whipped out her wand and transfigured her chair until it was a large, cozy armchair. Then she tucked her legs under herself and rested her head on the arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to sleep,” said Y/N.

“There’s a perfectly fine bed right here. No need for the showy Transfiguration.”

“It’s not perfectly fine when you’re in it,” she retorted.

He rolled his eyes and held open the sheets. “Come here. Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll get out if you want.”

“No.”

“You’re so stubborn,” he said. There was no venom in his tone.

She ignored his comment, lost in her own train of thought. For some reason, what she’d told him about Terry emerged in her ponderings. She was angry at him, yes, but there was no reason to try and keep up the lie. Letting him believe that she was dating Terry would eventually catch up to her, she was sure of it. It would be more embarrassing if he discovered the truth from someone else.

Once she’d found her resolve in confessing, she cleared her throat. “I, ehm, I need to clear my conscience while we’re both here. I need to tell you something. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not dating Terry,” she said. His eyebrows shoot up. “I just let you think I was because you were getting on my nerves and it seemed like it upset you.”

His silver eyes glittered in the moonlight as he laughed, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re a Hufflepuff sometimes.”

She sent him a weak smile in return, though she didn’t really feel it reach her eyes. It felt good to get her secret off her chest—he surely would’ve found out from someone else eventually—but she’d lost her last bargaining chip. Nothing else about her seemed to elicit any indication that he cared.

“Don’t feel too guilty,” he continued. “We’re even.”

“How so?” she asked, inspecting her fingernails instead of meeting his eyes.

“I’m not dating Pansy.”

Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his. There was no trace of insincerity in his face. “What?”

“Pansy and I aren’t really together,” said Draco. “I was going to tell you earlier. I just never had the chance.”

Anger and relief simultaneously rushed through her. Anger, because what did he mean he didn’t have any time? They’d been at school for over 2 months after the fact. Relief, because…well, she didn’t need to explain that.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” admonished Y/N.

“I couldn’t,” he answered.

“You are right now. I don’t understand.”

“The Dark Lord—I mean, Voldemort—went through my thoughts over the break,” said Draco, looking rather solemn. “He saw the memory of us in the corridor from when I came to say goodbye. It was dark enough that he didn’t see who you were, so I told him you were Pansy.”

“But we’ve been together so many other times. How did he not see those?”

“Legilimency only works on memories created in our usual reality,” he explained. “He can’t see my dreams. So I couldn’t tell you because I couldn’t figure out how to break into Trelawney’s classroom until last weekend. And I also didn’t want to try in my real corporeal form, anyway.”

“Why not?”

He looked sheepish. “You’re scary when you’re angry.”

“I'm the scary one?”

“I thought you were going to hex me in the last dream,” he said. “I’ve heard how good you are at dueling. I’d prefer to not be on the receiving end of that.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart was pounding from all that he’d just dumped on her.”Does Pansy know?”

“‘Course,” he said, frowning.

“And she’s okay with you pretending to be her boyfriend so you can cover your tracks after fucking around with a mudblood?” The words tasted acrid in her mouth.

“I didn’t give her your name,” he said, looking even more uncomfortable.

“She’s in love with you, you know.”

Draco sighed, a sharp breath leaving his nose. “I know. That’s why I didn’t tell her it was you. She’d be ruthless.”

“So what does she know?”

“That I’m involved with someone that I’m not supposed to be with,” he said simply.

Her middle began to feel weightless with hope, hope that she unsuccessfully attempted to tamp down. “That you are involved with? Present tense?”

He shrugged. “That was the plan, yeah. Before Boot, of course.”

“Is it still?” She hated the way she sounded so expectant, so optimistic.

“Would you like that?” asked Draco. His long, dark lashes nearly touched his cheekbones as he looked down, focusing on the hospital sheets instead of Y/N.

“You’d only ever see me in our dreams,” she pointed out.

“That’s okay. It’s better than not seeing you at all.”

She wanted to say yes. She wanted to agree wholeheartedly, to jump in the hospital bed with him and bury her face in his neck. But what stopped her was the fear. He’d gotten her hopes up so many times before, and dealing with the aftermath had been nearly catastrophic for Y/N.

As if he could read her thoughts, Draco shifted and met her eyes. “It’s okay if the answer is no. I know that asking you to trust me again is…a lot.”

“I’m just not really sure what I should do,” she admitted. “I’m afraid of getting hurt again.” But who was she kidding? Draco Malfoy, her school crush of over 2 years now, was handing himself over to her on a silver platter. She’d let her filet her with a plastic takeaway knife if it meant getting to shag him again. She considered indicating that she’d come to her senses, but the way he was looking at her with such sorrowful and empathetic eyes made her decide to hold her tongue for a bit longer. She did deserve a good apology, after all, not one from when his brain was addled with pain potions.

“I know,” he said gently. “I wish I could find a way to atone for the things I’ve done. Words can’t describe how much I regret how much I’ve hurt you. I’ll do anything if it results in your forgiveness.”

The pretty words he offered were empty. There were of course things that he wouldn’t do, lines that he wouldn’t cross if it resulted in harm to his family. But they were good enough, she supposed. She couldn’t fault him for loving his mother.

“Okay,” she said. “I forgive you. But if you ever do anything like this to me without warning again, I’m breaking a thousand crystal balls and haunting you for the rest of your life.”

He was grinning by the time she finished her threat.

“You’re supposed to act at least a little scared,” she told him, sounding much more wounded than she actually was. “I was just very intimidating there.”

“Oh, yes, very scary,” he said gravely. “Terrifying. Appalling. I’m trembling. Will you get back in bed with me now?”

The spot where she had appeared was still warm as she settled down next to him, letting him pull her into his side once again. They didn’t talk. Y/N just laid as she thought, feeling his fingers stroke through her hair.

“What did you mean by ‘involved’?” she asked, finally. The question had been nagging her for however long she’d been lying there. “What does this mean to you?”

His fingers threaded into the hair behind the nape of her neck, stilling. “Is this a ‘what are we’ question?”

“I guess,” she said. When he phrased it like that, it made her feel a little ridiculous. She knew what they were—a distraction for him, a fun side quest to keep him from thinking about his real responsibilities. When they graduated, he’d be a good little boy and get engaged to someone like Pansy or Daphne. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I assume nothing’s changed since last fall.”

A sick, heavy sense of dread filled her stomach. Now that she’d thought about it, she really didn’t want him to answer. It was easier for her to read into things, to pretend like there was meaning where there wasn’t if he didn’t explicitly tell her otherwise. That’s how she’d handled it the first go around. The tender way he touched her near the end enabled her fantasies of him returning her feelings. Could she do it all over again if he told her what she feared most?

She wasn’t sure. And he’d been quiet for a long time, too, which was stressing her out more.

“Please don’t answer if you don’t want to. I won’t make it into anything it isn’t,” she lied. She totally would, but what she thought in the private recesses of her mind was her business and her business only.

“Hey.” His voice was gentle but firm as he used his hold on the back of her hair to softly tilt her face up to meet his gaze. “I’m really sorry I’ve made you feel like that. I know I’ve been a bit of an arse to you, especially at first. It’s not a real excuse, but in my defense I didn’t think you were a real person for a while.”

She snorted. Where was he going with this?

“If things were ordinary,” he continued, “I’d be a much better boyfriend—actually take you out on dates and study together and all that normal stuff. But—are you alright?”

He’d paused because Y/N had stopped breathing.

“What?” she said after she finally checked back into her body and inhaled through her nose. “You’d want that with me?”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice soft. “But things aren’t ordinary. I can’t give you those things, at least not now. It’s too dangerous for both of us.”

“Oh. Yeah, I understand.” Her momentary high had dropped considerably.

“That isn’t to say that I don’t want anything real with you,” Draco said hastily. His fingers moved out of her hair, his palms coming to her jaw so his thumbs could run across the lengths of her cheekbones. He was still wearing his signet ring, and the coolness of the silver against her hot skin was startling. “I do. I care for you—more than what’s good for the both of us. That’s why I stole the crystal ball. I couldn’t stay away any longer, and that was terribly selfish of me. I know that seeing me like this doesn’t even hold a candle to what you deserve, but it’s all I can offer right now.”

“And is what you’re offering the same as you did last fall?” she prodded. Hope treacherously made its way back into her chest cavity.

“No.”

“So are you proposing that you be my boyfriend, but only in this realm?”

He rolled his eyes, but a smile danced across his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of your actual boyfriend. With the caveat that we meet up at night in another dimension instead of, say, Saturday afternoons at Hogsmeade. What do you think about that?”

“I think I can manage,” she said mildly, trying her hardest to seem cool and collected.

“I can feel your heart racing,” he said smugly. The hand that was stroking her neck pressed into her pulse point in a light demonstration.

“Oh, stop it.” She flushed, frowning. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” said Draco. “I think it’s cute how much this affects you.”

As if to prove his point, he bent down until his face was almost level with hers before lightly kissing the tip of her nose, then the tops of her cheeks. She was grinning stupidly by the time he was done.

Shyly, she pushed her weight into her toes and shifted forward. Her nose nudged against his cheek as she tilted her head up. When her lips finally pressed into his, his fingers curled around her waist, pulling her further into his chest.

It struck her then, really struck her, that she wasn’t just kissing Draco Malfoy—she was kissing her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. He was hers.

The thought made her entirely giddy as she rested her hands on his chest, letting her thumb run across his skin. His skin was so warm to the touch. She was overwhelmed by the need to be even closer to him than she already was, to somehow intertwine themselves until there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

For the first time in months, Y/N awoke feeling completely at peace.

Draco sat next to her in Potions on Friday. As Slughorn lectured, droning on about the properties of Valerian root, Draco’s knee nudged against hers. They managed to look entirely serious and no nonsense when they spoke to each other and jointly brewed a Draught of Peace, but under the table, his fingers would briefly rest on her thigh or tangle with hers.

Y/N thought she was going to absolutely combust with happiness by the time she joined Justin and the rest of the Dueling Club in the meeting room to travel to France. She wasn’t afraid anymore. Now that she was riding the euphoric emotional waves of her renewed relationship with Draco, she felt like she could take on the world.

“I have a tournament tomorrow,” she told him that night after she’d fallen asleep in the French hotel room. She’d awoken to find herself next to Draco in his own dorm bed.

“Where?” he asked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. He was hovering over her, letting his forearms support his weight from their place besides her head.

“France,” she told him. “I’m there right now, actually. I took a Portkey a few hours before dinner.”

“That’s exciting.” Draco smiled encouragingly down at her. “I’m sure you’re going to wipe the floor with everyone.”

She frowned, deep in thought. “I’m not sure. I’m actually really nervous. I can barely beat McLaggen, and he’s probably like a child compared to the other duelers. Durmstrang is sending their best.”

“That sounds intimidating,” he agreed. “But you have a natural talent for dueling. You’re going to do wonderfully.” To punctuate his last point, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her forehead.

She smiled, then changed the subject to something Slughorn had said in class. It struck her then how domestic and normal their meetings were becoming. It felt so natural now to tell him about her day and how it made her feel. The newfound emotional vulnerability felt like a warm, fuzzy blanket around Y/N’s entire body, wrapped tight.

The next day was a blur. Every dueler was scheduled to partake in 6 sessions. The first opponent Y/N had was a lithe, elegant Beauxbatons boy with rich chocolate hair and a demeanor that reminded her distantly of Draco.

Despite Professor Flitwick’s pep talk to her before she’d stepped into the ring, the sudden gravity of it all weighed on her the moment she passed through the protective wards. The Beauxbatons boy, who she was pretty sure was named Clement, was languidly twirling a short, stumpy wand around his fingers and eying her up and down. She had refused to ask how accomplished this dueler was—it’d only serve to make her more nervous—but the way he was smirking at her made her think the feeling was not mutual. If he hadn’t heard that this was her first tournament, he had at least figured out she was a muggleborn 6th year by now.

“Take your stances!” called out the moderator from outside the circle. She was a wiry looking woman, with carrot red hair and some flavor of Scandinavian accent. Y/N’s knees nearly buckled as she bent them slightly, staggering her legs and readying her wand. “Begin!”

A curse, white hot and scathing, hit her chest before the word had even finished echoing throughout the hall. It struck Y/N head on, making her double over and wheeze as her lungs seized.

“Stop!” cried the moderator. “Illegal spell. Beauxbatons 35 is disqualified. The win is given to Hogwarts 2.”

Clement scoffed. “Illegal? Zat was a simple burning ‘ex!” He stomped out of the ring with a flourish, meeting a tall blonde woman who patted his shoulder and scowled nastily at Y/N—the Beauxbatons coach, she assumed.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” asked Katie, appearing at her side with worry in her eyes. “That looked like it was nasty. He cast it early. You didn’t even have a chance to block it.”

“I’m alright.” Her voice was shaky and hoarse. “Everything just happened so quickly. At least I technically won, right?”

Katie clapped her on her back. “Good. You’ll get more used to it. I can’t believe he used that curse—no international dueling competitions allow any body alteration spells in the preliminary rounds. I’m sorry. Do you want to stop by the infirmary?”

“No,” said Y/N. If she stopped by the infirmary, she’d have to tell someone how she felt, and if she thought about how she felt for too long, she’d probably vomit from the nerves. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It must’ve been just a temporary burning curse, then,” explained Katie. “I have to go visit Cormac and watch his round. Good luck on the next if I don’t see you before, yeah?”

The next 5 rounds were even more nerve wracking. Y/N was matched exclusively with Durmstrang wizards. They were impossibly burly, nearly twice her size in both height and bulk. Miraculously, Y/N managed to nudge her second opponent into the barrier charms with a well placed Jelly Legs jinx. The wards glowed a blood red once he breached the perimeter of the circle, and she was declared the winner. She won her third, fourth, and fifth rounds with equal fortune, just barely managing to aim her curses enough to strike them where they least expected it. She even took after McLaggen, sending a Stupefy at the toes of her fifth opponent when his shield wasn’t fully comprehensive.

“You’re 5 for 5,” said Katie once Y/N returned to the room that the Hogwarts kids had been hanging out in between rounds. “I want to watch your 6th round. Who’s it this time?”

“I have no idea.” Y/N panted as she finished up her water bottle. Though it wasn’t the most physically demanding sport, she was already drenched in sweat and her heart was racing. “I think they’re releasing pairings in 5.”

Katie nodded. “Exciting. You might make it to out-rounds, you know.”

“Out-rounds?”

“You know, the final elimination rounds,” explained Katie. “In a tournament this small, they’ll probably only go as far as quarterfinals. Octofinals are more common at larger meets. It’s really rare to win more than 4 prelims without getting there, so I think it’s totally possible. Especially when even Cormac is down 2.”

Y/N felt nervousness creep into her throat. Was she really the only Hogwarts dueler who hadn’t lost yet?

She did not hold this title for long. Hristo Krum was her last opponent, and he absolutely eviscerated her in a matter of seconds. In his defense, he cast a clean, respectful Flipendo aimed directly at her wand hand that sent her spiraling into the bounds. It was a fair win, and when he shook her hand after the round, he congratulated her.

“It is good to see another young dueler,” he said in his thick Bulgarian accent. “I have heard of your earlier rounds. You are doing well for your first time.”

His kind words were almost enough to make her forget the glares that the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students sent her as it was announced that she would be the only 6th year progressing into the quarterfinals.

“Out-rounds are different,” Katie instructed her as they hurriedly prepared in their prep room. “You won’t get to use shields, and almost all curses but those that are lethal are allowed. They’ll have a healer on site regardless, just in case. We’ve never trained you to do this sort of thing before, so don’t feel bad if you get eliminated.”

She was up against the same Beauxbatons boy from the first round. Anger bubbled up in her as the moderator told them to take their stances. Y/N nonverbally began to build up a full-body binding hex in her fingers. The moment that the words “Begin!” left the lips of the moderator, she cast. He was on the floor in seconds.

“Fucking bitch,” he spat once she’d been declared the winner and released the binding hex. “Mudblood.” He then added some French that Y/N didn’t quite understand, but she assumed that he was using equally colorful words.

Y/N awkwardly tossed her wand back and forth as he was led away, stuck between feeling the raw wound of being reminded of her place in Wizarding society and the euphoria of the fact that she was progressing into semifinals. It was harder to feel offended by someone like Clement when she knew she just simply was better than him, even if he had fancier lineage.

She ended up losing the semifinal round to a Beauxbatons boy that she’d never seen before. He’d sent a slicing hex at her wand hand, and the wound bled so profusely that she dropped her wand, immediately disqualifying her.

“Don’t look too bummed,” said Katie as she sat next to her, watching the healer on duty slowly patch up the slice. “I have good news.”

Y/N peered up at the brunette. “What news?”

“You qualified for the Bulgarian Duel!” Katie grinned. “They’re taking everyone who made it to quarterfinals. You’re the first 6th year to go in years, and I think the first female 6th year from Hogwarts to go ever.”

Y/N laughed, shakily. “Merlin. I don’t know if I can do another one of these.”

“Isn’t it great, though? The adrenaline? Knowing that you’re on equal ground with everyone, regardless of gender or blood?”

“I suppose,” said Y/N thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right. Maybe that’s why I like it so much.”

“It’ll be in a month or so,” added Katie. “Some duelers spend the entire fall trying to prepare for it. You’re really lucky to have made it after one tournament.”

After the final round wrapped up, Y/N collected her medal for 3rd place and smiled for the cameras next to Hristo Krum and the boy who had beaten her in her last round. A reporter asked for her name, and in a dazzled state, she gave it to him.

“Y/L/N?” said the man, tilting his head and scribbling something thoughtfully down on his scroll. “I’ve never heard that name before. What do your parents do?”

“They’re muggles,” said Y/N boldly, holding her chin up high and daring the reporter to say something snide in responde.

But the nasty comment never came. Instead, the short stumpy man nodded and furrowed his eyebrows as he added a few more notes. “Thank you, miss,” he said. Then he moved onto Hristo and the Beauxbatons boy.

Back at school, Y/N settled back into a comfortable routine. Draco would try and find excuses to at least be in her general line of sight each day, even if they weren’t in class, just so they could dream together. Though he never gave her any reason to worry, she found herself desperate to commit every moment they shared to her memory.

Because as much as he said he cared about her and loved her, there was never any guarantee as to what would happen between them in the near future. There was no happy ending that she could clearly envision. The logical thing for him to do was end things with her before he completed his task, or before he returned back home.

Even if somehow he didn’t want to break things off with her right then, she’d have to face the reality that he would eventually come to his senses. They wouldn’t so much as have the chance to owl each other over the summer, much less meet in person. They wouldn’t see each other for months. And who knows how he’d feel after being without her for a summer? Maybe he would decide that he wanted to be a good Slytherin lad after all and realize he didn’t need her anymore. And, even if that wasn’t true, they couldn’t go on dreaming forever. It would eventually need to end. She’d probably need to harvest her magical signature again at some point. Continuing this indefinitely would only result in her heart and her magic being harmed.

There was no light at the end of the tunnel. What she had with him was all she would ever have, she thought, as she tangled her legs with his in his silk sheets and shared secret, knowing glances with him in passing. This was finite. Unless he managed to convince his mother to escape, something he thought to be near impossible, they were doomed.

The Bulgarian Duel began on a cloudy Friday afternoon in April. Y/N had trained hard and long with Professor Flitwick to ensure that she would be able to hold her own against the older, more experienced duelers. Though she didn’t feel invincible, she felt less helpless. The plethora of printed articles about the Pygmy Invitational, depicting her as a rising superstar from unlikely roots, certainly didn’t hurt in raising her morale.

Clement was her first opponent, and she made quick work of knocking him out of the circle with a nonverbal flick of her wand. The rest of her rounds did not go as swimmingly. She won 2 others by just a hair, but lost the rest, ending on a neutral record of 3-3.

To cheer Y/N up, Professor Flitwick took her on a tour of the Bulgarian capital, Sofia. It was dark by the time they had finished up with the awards ceremony and embarked on their trip, opting to roam the streets of Wizarding Sofia until they found a restaurant that caught their eye.

It wasn’t like Y/N harbored any negative feelings towards Professor Flitwick—she’d just never really connected with the older professor when she’d begun taking Charms under his supervision. But the trip to Bulgaria was quickly warming her up to him. He was a jolly old man that reminded her of her late grandfather, with all of us stories and elderly man habits.

Sofia was a gorgeous city. They got to walk past the Alexander Nevsky Cathedra and its appealing teal and gold architecture. Y/N had never seen anything quite like it.

“This is beautiful!” she said to Professor Flitwick as they rounded the corner. “Thank you for taking me, Professor.”

“Of course,” Flitwick responded. “If we turn this way, there should be a fabulous restaurant a few blocks down. An old friend of mine runs it. It’ll be busy on a Saturday night, but I’m sure he’ll fit us in…”

She followed her dueling coach down a street that had become noticeably dimmer, succumbing to darkness of the twilight sky. The few lanterns that were hung outside the storefronts cast very little light on the cobbled road. Dark shadows huddled in the corners, whispering faintly to one another.

“Wait here, dear,” said Professor Flitwick. They’d stood in front of a noisy pub, full of wizards and witches joyously chattering. “I’ll be just a moment.”

Nervously, Y/N stood outside while her coach attempted to get them a table. The sky was quickly darkening, becoming pitch black and starless. Though the area she stood in was fairly well-lit, she was right across from a dark alley that made her feel uneasy.

The street quieted down as a large group of wizards left the pub and began walking their way down the street. The rate of passersby slowed to a trickle, and suddenly Y/N was virtually all alone.

“No! Please! Don’t!”

The sound of a woman crying shook Y/N out of her exhausted post-duel daze. It came from a crouched shadow in the alley, too far away and obscured by darkness for her to make out anything more.

“Please,” the woman begged again. “I have a family. Children! Please!”

Y/N’s blood ran ice cold. What was she watching? She was frozen in place. There was a movement in the shadows, and she could just barely make out another silhouette standing over the crouched woman.

An awful cackling sound came from the standing shadow. “Oh, dearie. Now I’ll have to find them too! You knew the rules. Get me what I want or suffer the consequences.”

It was a familiar, sing-songy voice. Y/N racked her brain. Where had she heard that woman before?

As the mystery woman moved to brandish her wand, Y/N caught a glimpse of scraggly black curls, poking just barely out of the alley and into her sight. It hit her then.

This was the woman who had cock-blocked her in that dream about Draco! She was here!

The memory was enough to jolt Y/N into action as the crouched figure wailed, begging for forgiveness and for her family’s safety. The wood of her wand was cold against her palm as she sprung into motion.

“Petrificus Totalous!”

By some miracle, Y/N’s blindly aimed spell hit her mark before the pair in the alley could move. The woman from Malfoy Manor limply fell into the street, her head bouncing once on the cobble before her body went completely still. The crouched woman scrambled to her feet and bolted down the sidewalk before Y/N could even open her mouth to shout after her.

“Miss Y/L/N!” said Professor Flitwick’s voice from behind her. “There’s a table ready.” When she didn’t respond—she was too busy staring at the woman who she had just paralyzed and likely concussed in the street—he spoke again. “Miss Y/L/N? Is everything alri—Merlin’s beard!”

Her elderly professor appeared at her side, gaping at the woman in front of her, then Y/N’s outstretched hand with her wand pointed directly at the body.

Y/N never did get to try the pub that Professor Flitwick raved about. Instead, she enjoyed a dry protein bar that tasted of sawdust on her trip back to the hotel. Professor Flitwick was adamant that they find an emergency Portkey and depart immediately after gathering their things. Y/N wasn’t sure what the big deal was—all she had done was stop some sort of drug deal gone wrong, and the Bulgarian Aurors didn’t even bother questioning her as a suspect—but her professor looked like he was about to combust with anxiety.

Y/N didn’t understand what he was so worried about—she’d seen the woman be ushered away into custody. She tried to pry, but Professor Flitwick seemed too frazzled to offer any elaboration beyond, “What you did was very brave.”

Monday morning began like any other morning. Like always, Y/N sat in her chair and tried to nonchalantly crane her head around so she could stare at Draco at the Slytherin table. Today, he was thumbing through what looked to be a long letter. His eyes flickered up to meet hers for a moment, sending her a secret smile. She smiled back, the knowledge that she would get to have him all to herself that night humming in her chest.

The day took a strange turn when an arm reached out and yanked her behind a tapestry on her way to Potions.

She shrieked against the hand that muffled her mouth, trying her hardest to pull away from the figure that had her tightly pressed to their front.

“Sh!” It was Draco. Once she had relaxed, he let go of her mouth and let her turn to face him. He looked happier than he had in months, with dimples peeking out of his slight smile and a friendly scrunch in the corner of his eye.

“I thought you couldn’t see me in person!” she whispered. “What are you doing?”

His smile grew into a wolfish grin before he grabbed her around the waist and began peppering kisses all over her face.

“Draco! Stop!” she gasped. “Your memories! You can’t do—hmph!” He shut her up by finally covering her mouth with his, his hands twisting in the back of her robes before he finally released her.

“Actually, I can,” he said, looking far too proud of himself. “Guess what happened over the weekend?”

“What happened?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him look so good-humored and light—probably not since 5th year, she realized.

“My mother just sent me a letter saying that she’s managed to escape,” said Draco. “She’s hiding out someplace in Muggle Canada.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “You’re free? You don’t have to do your task anymore? Or go home?”

He nodded, then pulled her into her chest so he could press a kiss to her forehead. It was sweet that he couldn’t seem to stop touching her.

“How?”

“Her handler—my aunt Bellatrix—was caught somewhere in Bulgaria and taken into custody over the weekend,” he explained. “She was the one in charge of monitoring my mother and ensuring that she couldn’t leave. When Bellatrix didn’t return home, my mother went out on what she disguised as a shopping trip and left for good.”

Y/N paled. “Bellatrix? Like, Bellatrix Lestrange?” The puzzle pieces were starting to click into place. That was the name she’d seen appear everywhere in articles and journals about the darkest wizards and witches of their age. She’d never seen a picture of the witch, though.

“Yes.” Draco frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, fuck,” she breathed. “Oh God.” No wonder Flitwick had been so stressed out of her mind. Y/N had single handedly taken out a war criminal.

“You’re worrying me,” he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t know that woman was Bellatrix Lestrange,” said Y/N. "I thought she was just—I dunno—a batshit insane lady who happened to be your aunt. You’re related to Bellatrix Lestrange?”

He grimaced. “I know. It’s weird, I’m sorry. She’s my mother’s sister.”

“No, no, that’s not what I’m upset about,” clarified Y/N, waving her hand.

“Then what is it?”

“I was the one who petrified her,” said Y/N. “I saw her in an alleyway. She was accosting some poor witch, and I didn’t even think. I just cast the spell and before I knew it, the Bulgarian Aurors were putting her in some sort of magical straightjacket and dragging her away and Flitwick was patting my shoulder and telling me how brave I was.”

She gasped for breath once she’d stopped—she’d been rambling.

Draco was doing an award winning “deer in the headlights” impression a few inches away from her. “You—you caught Bella?”

“It wasn’t like it was hard,” said Y/N, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, like she had just turned into a unicorn. “If I had known it was Bellatrix Lestrange, I probably would’ve been a little more nervous. God. I had no idea it was her. She could’ve killed me!”

Draco blinked hard. “Ehm. Well. I’m not really sure what to say. You really didn’t know who it was?”

“No!” exclaimed Y/N. “If I had, I probably wouldn’t have been able to even point my wand at her. Jesus Christ.”

“It’s good that Flitwick had you leave,” said Draco. “The Bulgarians didn’t take your name, did they?”

“No.”

“So, no one will trace it back to you. The perfect crime. You never stop impressing me.”

She smiled at the praise, leaning into him. His chest was warm and solid against her. How had everything turned for the best in a matter of weeks? She’d gone from a nervous, heartbroken, and jaded girl to a semi-accomplished dueler who had caught not only a serial killer but the heart of the boy that she’d wanted for years.

After Bellatrix’s capture, things changed for the better between Y/N and Draco. Instead of their midnight rendezvous, Draco would find excuses to snog her in empty classrooms or behind tapestries. They hadn’t made anything public—doing so would’ve been dangerous for Y/N—but she was happier than ever.

June came quickly, along with Y/N’s concerns for the future. Draco couldn’t go home. Ever since he’d failed to complete his task or offer any progress reports to his ex-master, it was clear that returning to his childhood home would be a repackaged death sentence. Y/N usually tried to avoid the subject, assuming that he planned on fleeing the country or joining his mum or something, but as fate would have it, they eventually had to broach the topic.

Draco had snuck her into his Slytherin dorm room by making liberal use of disillusionment spells. It was strange to be, really be, in his bed, watching fish dart by his window as his hand stroked up and down her ribs.

“I’m really glad this all worked out,” mused Y/N, keeping her eyes trained on his window. His body, curled behind hers, kept her from getting too cold in the dungeon air. “I can’t believe I got this lucky. I’m really going to miss you.”

His hand paused on her waist, and she felt him nuzzle her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to see you for a whole summer,” she said, trying not to sniffle or do anything else equally as embarrassing. “And that’s under the assumption that you’re even coming back to Hogwarts.”

“Oh,” he said, exhaling a shaky laugh. “You don’t want to see me over the summer?”

She sat up, turning to give him a stern look. “Of course I want to see you. But aren’t you going to be in hiding or something?”

He shrugged. “I mean, yeah. I wasn’t planning on appearing in Wizarding society. But you live in the Muggle world over summer, right?”

She nodded.

“And on that note…” He cleared his throat, looking a little awkward. “I’ve meant to ask this for a while, but I don’t want you to feel any pressure to say yes. The last thing I want to do is intrude on your family over the summer. I’ve been thinking about that conversation we had before Yule in the corridor. You know how you said that I could stay with you over the break?”

Draco waited until she nodded to continue. “Did you really mean that? Or was that just a spur of the moment thing?”

“Of course I meant it,” said Y/N. “I’m sure my family would’ve been alright with it. And I would’ve wanted you there, too, of course.”

“Right,” he said. “I know that it’s poor etiquette to invite myself like this, but would you be willing to host me over the summer?”

Y/N gaped at him. “But your mother! Don’t you want to be with her?”

“She can’t tell me where she is in Canada over owls,” he explained. “She says it’s too risky to disclose that information, especially internationally. It could easily get into the wrong hands. I agree. I think it’d be best if I waited to come to her until after everything is settled and I know that we’ll both be safe.”

“So until after the war?”

He pressed his lips together. “Yeah. Probably.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, you can stay with me for however long you’d like,” she told him, reaching up to tap the top of his nose. The tension in his face was replaced with relief, then affection.

“I was worried you would say no,” he admitted.

“And why would I do that?” she asked, grinning madly. Her boyfriend was going to live with her for at least the summer. Why would she ever refuse something like that?

“I don’t know,” Draco said. His hands found her waist once again, and he leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. “I know I’m asking quite a lot from you.”

“I’d do anything for you,” she said without hesitation. “I’m really glad you asked—oh!”

Something cold pressed into her bare waist—Draco’s ring. He was smirking at her as she tried to regain her breath.

“Something wrong?” he asked innocently, like he wasn’t dragging the cool metal from her waist down to her stomach, and then lower still. Then, leaning forward so his breath fanned over her neck: “I thought you liked my rings.”

For the first time since she could remember, she no longer dreaded the onset of her looming muggleborn summer.

final a/n: hi everyone :) thank you for coming along for the ride of this fun series! i'm not sure what i'm going to be writing next. it always feels so bizarre to finish up something like this. ik i keep sayign that (insert series name here) is going to be the last thing i write for this community but idk if i mean that...because it's sm fun to write these. thank you all for reading. i apologize if the end seems abrupt!

tags! @writeandtranslate @sycathorn-slush @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @yiamalfoy @crystalox @dracoismybabey @dreamcxtcherr @decaffeinated-turtle @marrymetheonott @felicityofbakerstreet @daedreamss @sycathorn-slush @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos @lilyrachelcassidy @ynalouis @sivuda @zzoz942 @imabee-oralizard @afuckenslutforharrybro

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x oc

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thewayofthemandalorian · 2 years

Text

all’s faire - chapter two

Pairing: Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Series rating: M

Chapter rating: M

Word count: 4,005

Notes: Chapter two! These two are still very much in the enemies stage of their relationship but there are developments made in this chapter. Thank you to everyone who’s shown their enthusiasm for this fic, especially @lowlights and to @ezrasbirdie for reading it over. I’m no longer putting “outside” links (AO3/taglist form) in my fics but they can be found in my bio and on my masterlist. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Swearing, enemies to lovers, medication mention, injury mention, tension, sex mention

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (pero tovar)

A few, Pero Tovar thought-free, days later, your phone pings with an email notification. Most of your emails these days are shipping confirmations for books you’d preordered months ago. So you are surprised when an email from Pero Tovar pops up on your lock screen.

Ugh. You’d been having a good day up until now. What did he want with you? A partner to kick some puppies? Someone to yell at sweet old ladies with?

The subject line is Medieval Faire. And, clicking it open, you see it’s addressed to a number of people.

This note is to inform you that you have been accepted into the cast of the fifth annual summer medieval faire. Rehearsals for everyone are weekly and begin on June 4 at 8am at Lockwood Falls High School in the gymnasium. Do NOT be late. Please find your name and role from the list below. If anyone has any questions, do not hesitate to email me or Will Ballard.

P. Tovar.

That’s got to be the most joyless “you got the job” email you think you’ve ever seen. Sure, it’s to the point, but can he not use some enthusiasm for once? You see your name below Cassie’s — role, tavern wench. Below your name is Sarah’s, also a tavern wench. And that’s it for the tavern by the looks of things. Unless there’s others that have yet to be confirmed. Or maybe there’s volunteers? Two people seems to be not enough to serve drinks to all the customers that will make their way through. Even on slow nights at the pub you used to work at, you never had fewer than four staff on.

There’s a number of volunteers at the bottom of the list, so hopefully some of them are allotted to you and Sarah because otherwise it’s going to feel a lot more like work than Sarah and Cassie both said it would feel like.

You read over the email again, certain the warning against lateness is directed at you. Asshole. At least your niece got in. That’s the important part, that she has fun.

Getting up from the couch where you had been looking at job postings in a purely hypothetical manner (more for when Tess is more mobile and back on her feet), you check on dinner that’s cooking in the slow cooker — mac and cheese — before looking at your phone for the time; you still have fifteen minutes before having to go pick up Tess at her physical therapy appointment. You’ve prepared a nest for your sister on her bed for optimal comfort — Percocet and water bottle at the ready on her night table in case she needs it.

Cassie’s due back from school at around the same time that you and Tess will be getting back from her physical therapy appointment. Since it’s almost the end of the school year, it’s crunch time for Cassie. Studying for finals, final assignments, all the fun stuff about school that you absolutely do not miss. Cassie’s a good student, though, on top of everything. You don’t know where she gets it from. Neither you nor Tess were ever ahead of schedule in school, so Cassie must come by it naturally.

You’re not looking forward to a solid two and a half months of early weekend morning wakeups. Weekends are your sleep-in mornings. Where you roll out of bed at nine a.m. or later. To be honest, you’re surprised that a teenager is doing this willingly. But Cassie tells you it’s worth it. You’ll see about that.

The alarm on your phone goes off, indicating that it’s time to go pick up Tess. It’s her third physical therapy appointment; it’s been kicking her ass, but in a good way. The therapist is optimistic for a full recovery; your sister was lucky, he said. The break had been clean.

You drive across the town that you grew up in, the town you never thought you’d relocate to again. Not much has changed in the years since you left, for what you thought was for good. The only difference is that your parents had retired to Florida five years ago.

Tess is sitting down in the waiting room when you arrive, a slightly pained expression on her face, mixed with utter exhaustion.

“How’d it go?” you ask as you help her to your car. She grimaces as she buckles herself in.

“Painful. I’ll be glad when I don’t have to come here anymore.” Tess yawns.

“Did the doc give a timeline for when the boot can come off?” Your sister’s been chomping at the bit for the removal of the boot cast since it was first put on.

Tess shakes her head. “No. Not really.” She sighs. “I don’t think they want to get my hopes up with a false promise.”

It’s a mostly quiet car ride home; Tess is too worn out to contribute much to the conversation. “I got the part of bar wench,” you tell her. “Cassie’s wonderful and totally not grumpy teacher emailed me today.”

Tess manages a smile; you’d told her all about Pero Tovar, both after the interview and after the information meeting. Both tirades had been punctuated with huffy sighs and rolled eyes and over exaggerated hand gestures, all on your part. Tess had just sat there, bemused by your passionate feelings towards Cassie’s history teacher. “Don’t contain your enthusiasm for my benefit,” Tess quips. “Try to keep some for Cassie, though.”

You roll your eyes as you turn onto your street. “He’s just so…” You pause, thinking for the right word.

“Cantankerous? Annoying? Rude? Grumpy? Peevish? Assaholic? Another word that you didn’t use the last time you talked about him?” Tess offers with a smirk.

Pulling into the driveway, you offer her a withering glance as you put the car in park. “Very funny.”

Cassie is just unlocking the door as you arrive, the timing could not be better. She turns to you with a grin. “Did you get the email from Mr. Tovar?!” she squeals. “We got in! And I’m a lady-in-waiting to Mrs. Garin!”

You have to pause to remember who that is, a lot of new names and faces swirling in your mind. She comes to you; Mrs. Garin is the petite woman with long dark hair that Pero had talked to at the end of the information session. She’s playing the queen if you remember correctly. You think her name is Lin-Mae. “I did. Pretty exciting isn’t it, kid?”

Cassie nods, her beam still plastered to her face. As always, her enthusiasm is contagious. You have to remember why you’re doing this. For her. “Can we watch Snow White and the Huntsman tonight?” An odd topic change if ever there was one. “Or maybe some episodes of Downton Abbey? Mr. Ballard and Mr. Tovar said we have to practice our accents.”

Tess jumps in. “What about your homework? Any assignments left to do?”

Cassie shakes her head. “Nope. I handed in the last one today. I have to prep for a history presentation but that isn’t until Monday.” She looks a little nervous, recalling what you told her about what Tovar said and you have another flare of annoyance at him that you try to hide.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure you have it down pat. Your mom and I will be your practice audience,” you reassure her. “But for tonight, mac and cheese and Downton Abbey. On one condition: we watch the Robin Hood movie with Russell Crowe as part of our research. It’s close to the time period we’re recreating.”

Cassie tries to hide a smirk. “You mean, the one with Oscar Isaac?”

Busted.

- - - -

On Saturday at stupid o’clock, you pull yourself out of bed after pressing snooze as many times as possible without being late. For some ungodly reason, Cassie is bright eyed and bushy tailed when she meets you downstairs in the kitchen. Tess is still asleep.

“I think we’re choosing our faire names today,” she says. You yawn again before grunting an unintelligible answer, your motions done by rote.

Once you’ve had your first coffee, you’re more awake — or at least more willing to pretend you’re awake. You make another one for the road, topping up your tall travel mug. For the first time in a very long while, perhaps ever, you and Cassie are the first to arrive besides Pero and Will Ballard.

Pero shoots you a look of incredulity. You return it with a questioning glare of your own, as if to say “what?”

People begin to file in, a slow trickle at first and then a flood of them. It’s a smaller group than last time, since not everyone made the cut. Given how Pero seems to think you can do no right, you’re surprised you made the cut.

He calls for attention at precisely 7:59:59 a.m. “Let us not waste time in retreading old ground. You all know who Will and Lin and I are and who we are playing. Let us instead go around the room. Introduce yourself using your real name, your chosen Faire name, and your Faire role.” He nods at Sarah to start.

“All right, hi everyone. I’m Sarah Bradford. Most of you know me already. I’ve been with the Faire since the beginning. As always, if you want to find me, I’ll be in the tavern serving drinks as Matilda.”

Will Ballard nods a welcome back to her. Pero just gives a curt nod in approval. It’s clearly old hat for the two of them at this point; Sarah — Matilda, rather — isn’t introducing herself for Pero’s sake, except perhaps to confirm that she’s using the same name for Faire as she always has.

You look down at the list of names clutched in your fingers as you listen absently to the others introducing themselves, first with their real names and then their Faire names. Cassie speaks beside you. “I’m Cassie Miller. Um, this is my first year in Faire —”

“Could you speak up a little bit?” asks Pero, not unkindly.

Cassie nods. “And I’m a lady-in-waiting to her Majesty. And I was wondering if my name could be Clara?”

“I don’t see why not,” Pero agrees.

There’s a long pause and then you realize it’s your turn. “Oh. Hi.” You introduce yourself with a smile that has too many teeth, giving a wave that looks ridiculous. Sarah, already a good friend, gives a wave back. “Ummm. This is my first year doing this. I’m going to be a tavern wench with Sarah.”

“Matilda,” corrects Pero as if you’re stupid.

“Right, yes. Matilda. Sorry.”

If Pero stares at you any harder, he’s going to burn a hole in your forehead. “And what’s your name, my dear?” he asks, the use of my dear almost mocking; you ignore it. You say your name and Pero sighs in frustration. “No. Not your real name, your Faire name.”

“Oh, right.” You almost feel small in his presence. Looking down at the list of names to buy yourself a few seconds of time, you say the first one that crosses your field of vision. It’s a variation of your real name. Sarah hides a grin. Pero repeats it, almost disbelievingly, his voice flat. You can practically feel the tension in the room, all the fun sucked out as soon as he makes clear his disapproval.

“Yes,” you say, with more confidence than you feel. “It’s period appropriate and I’ll be sure to remember it and respond to it.”

There’s another eye-roll from Pero. “Glad to see you’ve given a lot of thought and effort,” he drawls flatly. You open your mouth to retort, but he’s moved on to the person standing next to you, evident that you aren’t worth his time or energy.

Once everyone’s introduced themselves, you make your way over to Sarah, Cassie finding her friends. “Hey,” she says, your Faire name said teasingly. But her expression changes from teasing to one of concern when she sees your grimace. “What is it? Is it Pero again? Don’t listen to him; your Faire name is perfectly fine. He’s just a killjoy,” she says this part loud enough for him to hear. He pauses for a moment as everyone sits down on the mats on the floor for him to give his first accuracy lesson, but makes no other indication that he’s heard. As you sit down on a mat next to Sarah, he shoots you a glance that you miss but Sarah does not. She meets his gaze with a questioning one of her own as if to say “what’s up with you?”

- - - -

The next few weeks are a crash course in medieval history. It’s all old information, given that history — specifically medieval — was your minor in college. So what if you scrolled on your phone, making arrangements and putting Tess’s appointment times into your calendar while Pero or Will Ballard discussed something that you had written papers and exams on? It doesn’t matter. No one’s going to quiz you while you’re serving them drinks.

Your accent is more on the side of Eliza Doolittle than Lady Mary Crawley. But it works. And it’s as good as it’s going to get. You and Cassie and Sarah have full conversations using your Faire names in your accents to keep up the routine of it.

After week four of mostly irrelevant-to-you history lessons, it’s time for costume fitting. Sarah brings a bundle of what look like bedsheets. You lift an eyebrow. “I thought I gave you my measurements?” you ask.

“You did. Just wait until I lace it all together. You’re going to look great. Wine red or blue?” she asks.

You look at the colourful fabric. “Ummm… Wine red, I guess.”

“Excellent choice.” Her own dress is green. Across the way, you see Cassie with the other nobility cast members; Lin-Mae is helping her into her own dress, a periwinkle thing. You put on the pieces of fabric as Sarah instructs you to. You’re still swimming in them when you’ve put on all of them. “Now comes the fun part. I would say you’ll get used to it, but, well…” She tugs on the laces.

“Jesus, Sarah!” you grumble.

“Who’s Sarah?” she asks.

Right. You’re supposed to be using the Faire names. “Sorry. Matilda.”

Just as the dress is starting to have some shape to it, Pero Tovar chooses that moment to come inspect things.

“How are things over here?” he asks.

“Just peachy,” you say under your breath.

He inspects you for a long moment, looking for any defect or thing out of place. Instead of feeling like a bug under a microscope this time around, you defiantly look right back at him. Checking him for any defect or out-of-place thing. He’s let his hair grow a bit, his beard more defined than it had been when you first met him.

Usually he’s so well put together, but today he looks like he just rolled out of bed. You lift an eyebrow at his slovenly appearance. But, much to your chagrin, he’s still handsome as ever, even when he’s looking more like a slob than you thought you would ever see. You know part of the appearance is for his role of Captain Bastian. You wonder if he and the person playing Gideon are doing more practice after this.

“Everything’s finalized?” he asks.

Sarah confirms that it is. “Yep. Matilda’s been my Faire name for five years, I’m not changing it now. William gave it to me.”

The ghost of a smile quirks on Pero’s face; it’s the closest thing you’ve seen to a real smile on him. You find you want to see what a true-blue smile looks like coming from Pero Tovar. You’re sure, though you don’t know why, it would be like the sun coming out on a cloudy day. Jeez. Where did that come from? you ask yourself. “I know he did,” Pero murmurs. He turns to you, his imitation of a smile gone by the time he’s facing you. “And you?”

Trying to catch your breath but quickly realizing that it will be fighting a losing battle when wearing this getup so tightly, you say, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

He gives you another quick once-over. You can’t tell if he likes you in the dress or not. “Still keeping the name?” he asks, still inexplicably annoyed at your name selection.

“Yep,” you intone dryly, not bothering to hide your annoyance at his own annoyance; when Sarah and the others had mentioned the name, it had been in a fun, teasing, ribbing kind of way. Pero just sounds as he always does with you. Annoyed. To your surprise, though perhaps it shouldn’t be given who he is, Pero practically snarls at you.

“Come with me. I need to talk to you,” he spits before turning on his heel and quite literally storming out of the auditorium.

“What is your problem?” you ask once you’ve reached an alcove for privacy. “You’re more tightly laced than I am and I’m the one wearing a corset.”

Pero actually rolls his eyes. “Are you taking any of this seriously at all?” he demands.

“What?” you ask. “Of course I—”

“It does not seem that way to me. You clearly don’t give a shit about any of this. From the name you chose to your attitude to the way you don’t pay any attention. You spend more time scrolling your phone than listening.”

“Okay, listen,” you manage to cut in. “I don’t know what your deal is, but you’ve been making me feel very unwelcome from the very fucking beginning. It’s just a name, okay? I know it’s not the most creative, I know that. But it’s period, I know it, I’m going to respond to it. Do you know where I currently live?” You don’t give him the time to respond, not even knowing why you’re going to tell him all this. “I live in my sister’s guest room. Everything I do these days is either for my sister or my niece. I’m on-call all the time, ready at the drop of a hat. That’s why I’m on my phone all the fucking time, so I can make sure my schedule is clear to do this, making sure that I have all her doctor’s appointments and physical therapy time in my calendar because guess who’s the chauffeur for the time being? Me.” You’re not complaining, you’d do anything for your sister and her daughter, but Pero doesn’t understand just how thinly stretched you are sometimes. “I know all this shit already, backwards and forwards. Because guess what? Not only am I here every fucking weekend on time, but medieval studies was my minor in college. I’m doing this as a way to support my niece who is having the time of her life doing this, so she can get her mind off worrying about her mom, because she’s passionate about this and I want to foster that passion even if it means giving up my weekends to do this and having to deal with you and your grouchy ass; I’m doing this to give Tess some space while she heals so we’re not always on top of each other — it isn’t a big house. I don’t know what your problem is with me, or why you seem to want me to quit, but I’m not going to, so you can give up your little crusade against me. If Cassie stays, then so do I. My internal organs are currently in a death grip in this getup and will be for six weeks. If none of what I just told you indicates that I’m taking this seriously I don’t know what else to tell you. And another thing; if I go, you’re down half your barmaids. So I’m actually doing Sarah and you a favour by not dropppng out, even when you make it so fucking tempting.” You fix Pero’s hard glare with one of your own, refusing to break eye contact. You mean business, refusing to be cowed by this man. If he doesn’t respect you, you’re going to damn well make him.

Pero’s eyes flare and he holds your gaze for a long minute in a staring contest, a game of chicken, both of you unwilling to be the first one to flinch. Eventually, though, after a long minute of staring at each other, his jaw set and his brow furrowed, Pero is the first one to look away; your diatribe seems to have set in and his face softens, softer than you’ve ever seen it before and likely softer than you’ll see it again.

“Family is important,” he murmurs, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before, softer than you’ll likely hear it again. He has a faraway look on his face for a second before he remembers where he is. “It’s fine; you’re fine,” he says. It isn’t quite the ringing approval that you were half-expecting, but from Pero it’s practically high praise. And then he says the second most shocking thing all day. “I’m sorry.”

Wait, what? You blink, not quite believing your ears. Surely you’ve stepped into Wonderland if you’re hearing Pero Tovar apologize. “What?” you sputter.

Pero sighs, his jaw setting again. This is clearly a difficult topic of discussion for Pero. “This time of year is hard for me. Especially this year because…” He sighs again, changing his mind. “It doesn’t matter. But it is not fair that I have been taking it out on you.”

“No, it isn’t fair,” you can’t help but say, almost reproachfully. “But I appreciate you saying it. Thank you.”

He gives you one last lingering look, a look you can’t quite put your finger on, and then he lets you go in a shared baffled silence. Sarah shoots you a questioning glance as you return to the auditorium, but you don’t say anything pertaining to your, quite frankly, bizarre interaction with Pero just now.

“Is he always like that?” you ask Sarah as she unlaces your dress enough for you to slip out of it, leaving you in your casual street clothes underneath; you neatly fold the bedsheet that is a dress and tuck it into your bag. “So uptight and intense?”

Sarah shrugs. “He’s always been intense, but you seem to bring it out in him.”

“Tovar just needs to get laid,” says a tall, burly guy coming up next to you. Dan, you think his name is. He’s playing Gideon, the lawman who is Tovar’s enemy in the context of the Faire. You snort at his assessment. “It’s true, the man’s practically been living like a monk for the past four years. And no, Daisy doesn’t count; they lasted all of five minutes,” he says when Sarah opens her mouth to protest. “He just needs to get laid,” he repeats, “might let out some of that pent up tension he’s got.”

Sarah pouts. “You guys need to be nicer to Pero,” she says, more to Dan than you. “You know it’s hard on him. He hasn’t been the same since William’s been gone.”

You don’t know who this William is, or why he left, but whoever he is, he’s clearly important to the bunch of them. Though you fail to see what his leaving town has to do with anything.

“I promise, Pero will grow on you. Just give him time and get to know him and you’ll see, he’s just a big softie,” Sarah assures you again.

You suppose you’re just going to have to take her word for it, even if Dan doesn’t seem to share her conviction. As you glance in Pero’s direction, you see that he’s chatting with a couple of other cast mates. You don’t know what troubles you more: the fact that he doesn’t deem you worthy to share his friendship with, or that it bothers you as much as it does.

--- taglist in reblog

#pedro pascal #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #modern pero tovar #my writing #pero tovar x f!reader #my fic

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americasass91 · 2 years

Text

Ransom’s Assistant

Hello my lovelies! Happy Hoelidays! I know i’ve been inactive af lately. Sorry about that. My husband went through some things and the last couple months of 2021 had been some of the hardest i’ve ever been through. Hopefully we are all over with that part now and are in the healing phase. I’m trying my hardest to make sure he gets better. I know he can do it. And with therapy and the right medication, he knows he can too.

Anyways! I’m sure you don’t want to hear anymore about that! I am so glad to be apart of this! It’s always my favorite challenge hosted by these amazing hoes! @stargazingfangirl18 @navybrat817-shares and @drabblewithfrannybarnes! Thank you once again for hosting this!! And the way you guys did it? Loved it! You can see what my perfect hoeliday treat was above! I did my best with it! So here is everyone’s favorite Murder sweater daddy!

**Disclaimer, if you’re under 18, just go away. This is not a story you should be reading! So kindly fuck off! Thanks so much!**

Words: 5.4k

Rating: Explicit(as are all my stories)

Warnings: Language, Smut, Unprotected sex, p in v, oral( fem rec), SoftRansom(Look, I’M A SLUT FOR SOFTRANSOM, OKAY?)

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RING RING RING

What in the mother fuck is-

RING RING RING

You begrudgingly raise your head from your pillow to look for your rudely-interrupting-your-sleep phone.

After about 5 minutes, you finally find it underneath the covers. You glance at the now silent phone and see 2 missed calls from Ransom.

Shit. He hates it when you miss his calls.

You then look at the time. It’s only 8am. He usually doesn’t start calling you until noon or after. Before you have any more time to think about it, the phone starts ringing again. You waste no time answering it.

“Hey Ran-“

“Y/N! There you are! Why did you miss my calls? Whatever, I don’t have time for your excuses. I’ve sent you an email about what all needs done today. It’s a pretty big list so I’d suggest you get started.”

CLICK

Fucking asshole. He’s lucky he paid you so well.

You sit up and stretch out your limbs from sleep and grab your phone to check the email your boss has sent you.

There’s about 32 items on the list. This is going to take you all day! Ugh.

You get out of bed and head to your bathroom to take a shower in hopes that it’ll wake you up a little.

You’ll get Starbucks once you're out and about. For now, the shower will have to do.

You’ve been Ransom’s assistant for going on 2 years now. You originally started out working for his mother Linda. Well, she decided you would be better fitted as Ransom’s assistant than hers. Saying her work is more important and she couldn’t afford some incompetent moron screwing anything up.

Yeah, you hated that bitch.

So Ransom took you over. And what would Ransom need with an assistant since he doesn’t even work?

To put it simply, he’s lazy as fuck. He has you do literally everything. Grocery shopping, laundry, cleaning his house(and yes, he has a maid), setting up his dates, etc. He actually keeps you busier than Linda ever did. Again, you don’t mind considering he pays you hella good and treats you decently.

By decently you mean he doesn’t come right out and call you stupid and incompetent.

He also allows you to call him Ransom. Which you gathered pretty quickly was a big deal. All of the other help has to call him Hugh.

You’re also not afraid to put him in his place. If you think he’s being a dick, you tell him. And if you’re feeling extra sassy, you’ll call him Hughbert. Which he hates more than anything else.

Truth be told? You actually really did love like him. You enjoyed the odd relationship that had blossomed between the 2 of you. And he’d never say it, but you’re pretty sure he doesn’t totally hate you.

The shower starts to turn cold before you finally get out. Today wasn’t a hair wash day so you dry off and quickly get dressed to start on this atrocious list.

Starting with your all time favorite task: kicking the whore out.

It’s no secret that Ransom is the biggest man whore in Boston. Possibly America.

So when he gets the occasional bitch that refuses to leave, you guys have a routine down.

You tie your hair up into a bun and grab your purse.

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On the short drive to Ransom’s, you can’t help but get lost in your thoughts.

While kicking the whore out was always fun, you always end up hating yourself for feeling this little twinge of jealousy every time you have to do it.

You wanted to be the one leaving Ransom’s bed. You shouldn’t even be thinking this way about your boss. But you can’t help it. The selfish asshole was dead sexy.

He knew it too.

He never showed any interest in you in that way though. Just treated you like an employee.

You pull into his driveway right beside the Beamer. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the Mercedes’ parked on the other side.

So she was a rich bitch. Typical Ransom.

The front door swings open before you even make it all the way up the walkway.

Ransom smiles in relief. “Thank God. This one is really insane. Refuses to leave my bedroom.”

You shake your head at him as you get inside. “When are you going to learn to avoid the crazy ones Ran?”

He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a sexy ass smirk. “What can I say? They can’t resist me. Now hurry up. You have a full day today.”

He gives you a swift smack to your ass and pushes you towards the stairs.

Trying your best to not let out a whimper, you quickly climb the stairs. You take a few minutes to get into the right mindset before you open the bedroom door.

Your eyes are met with a very naked, very fake looking blonde in his bed. She has a deer caught in headlights look.

“Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you in MY bed?”

Her look quickly turns to anger. She sits up and grabs the sheet to cover herself. “Excuse me? What are you? The maid or something?”

You pretend to be offended. “I happen to live here, with my husband!” You throw your left hand up to show her the fake, gaudy diamond on your ring finger that you bought for these occasions.

She sneers at you. “Oh, please. You’re telling me that man that fucked me last night is married?”

You happen to see her skirt near you and throw it at her. “Yes! Now get the fuck out of my house!”

She drops the sheet unashamedly and starts getting dressed. You cross your arms and tap your foot out of annoyance. She looks over at you. “Does he always fuck other women?”

“That’s really none of your business.”

She grabs her clutch lying on the floor and goes to leave. She pauses once she’s beside you and looks you up and down in a very judging manner.

“You know, maybe if you put some effort into your appearance and lost some of that gut, he wouldn’t fuck other women.”

You’re about to open your mouth to retort when, “You better watch your fuckin mouth. That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

Her gaze switches to Ransom who is passing by on his phone. Her jaw drops open in shock. “Are you kidding me? You’re the one that hit on me last night, remember?”

He just shrugs his shoulders and tells the person on the other end of his call goodbye. “She was out of town and I was bored. Plus she gets off on it.”

She looks between the two of you before scoffing with disgust. “You guys are fucking psycho. Lose my number.”

He just chuckles and yells down at her retreating form on the stairs. “You’re acting like I even kept it.”

Once the door slams shut, you start going about straightening his bedroom.

“What are you doing?”

You start gathering the sheets and look at him confused. “I thought you’d want me to change the bed?”

“No. I need you to start getting ready for our trip to New York this weekend.”

Now you’re really lost. “New York? What are you talking about? There was nothing about a trip in your email?”

He starts scrolling through his phone and waives a dismissive hand at you. “Yeah, disregard that email. I need you to drive me to New York for the weekend. I just got off the phone with Harlan and he needs me to do some business for him.”

You throw the bed clothes on the ground. “Why am I coming with you? I usually don’t go on trips with you.”

He looks up from his phone and shrugs his shoulders. “Cause I want you-I mean cause I might need you for something.”

You give him an unsure look. “Isn’t it supposed to snow tonight though?”

He glances back down at his phone, you’re assuming to check the weather, and then meets your gaze again. “Just says a chance of snow. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about the sheets, the maid can get them. Why don’t you go home and get ready and come back to pick me up around 6?”

Good. You didn’t want to wash his whorey sheets anyways. “Fine. I’ll be back around then. Should I make a reservation at the plaza?”

“Yeah, yeah. Good idea. Make them til Sunday. And make sure to get suites.”

You give him a thumbs up before leaving.

That was odd. He’s never wanted you to go with him on trips before? Oh well, he was an odd one.

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You spend the rest of your day making the reservations at the plaza and packing for the trip. You aren’t sure what kind of business he is conducting so you made sure to pack not only casual but dressy clothes as well.

You pull back into his driveway right at 6 on the dot. You let yourself into his house with the key he gave you and see his luggage sitting by the door. You start to grab it when Ransom comes out of nowhere and takes it from you. “I got this. Are you all ready to go?”

You nod your head. “Yep. The GPS is set up. Says we should arrive around 10:30 depending on any stops we make.”

He grabs the rest of his luggage and heads outside with you. “Sounds perfect. And I don’t plan on making any stops so if you have to pee, I suggest you do it now.”

You lock up since his hands are clearly full and roll your eyes. “I’m not a kid Ransom. I peed before I left my apartment.”

You both head towards your car. You pop the trunk so he can place his luggage inside. You go ahead and get settled in the driver’s seat.

He gets in the passenger seat and settles in for the drive. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

You’re only about an hour and a half into your trip when the snow starts. At first it’s just a light dusting. But the next thing you know, it turns into what looks like a blizzard. It’s covering the roads way too quick for your liking.

“Ransom it’s starting to stick. I think we should pull over.”

He glances up from his iPad, totally oblivious to the weather. “I think you’re exaggerating a little there, honey. It’s not that-“

And that’s when you hit a patch of ice and lose control of the car.

You remain as calm as you can and just begin pumping your brakes. You gain back control and quickly pull off at the next exit. Ransom looks over at you in confusion. “That wasn’t our exit. What are you doing?”

While concentrating on seeing if there are any hotels at this exit you respond, “I’m not taking any chances Ransom. Did you not feel us lose control back there?”

He just shrugs his shoulders, annoyed. “Well, yeah. But you took back control pretty quick. I think we should keep going.”

Thankfully, you see that there is a hotel not even a mile up the road. “Well then I’m going to this hotel and getting a room for the night. If you want to keep going, I suggest you rent a car.”

He opens his mouth to argue but you cut him off. “I’m not risking my life or my car, Hughbert. Fire me if you must.”

You are able to pull into the parking lot of the hotel safely. You leave the car on after grabbing your wallet to head inside, not even giving Ransom a chance to respond.

You’re greeted with a warm smile from the front desk clerk. “Hello! Welcome to the Drury Inn! How can I help you?”

You return her smile. “Yes, hi! I was needing 2 rooms for the night please.”

She nods and looks at the computer. “Did you have a reservation?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry but I don’t. We were on our way to New York when the snow kind of snuck up on us.”

She gives you a sympathetic look. “Well I’m sorry sweetie but we have a convention in town this weekend and I believe we are all sold out. But let me take a second look.”

You silently pray there’s at least one room so you don’t have to sleep in your car.

“Aha! Looks like you’re in luck! We just had a cancellation!”

“I’ll take it!”

“It’s only for one room though. I know you were wanting 2. And it’s a king bed. Will that be alright?”

You think about it for only a minute. Anything is better than the alternative. “Yes, we will manage just fine!” You hand her your driver’s license and the credit card Ransom gave you for things like this.

She inputs your information and gets keys made for your room. She lets you know where your room is and suggests parking in the back. You thank her again and head back to the car. You can tell even before you get in that Ransom is sulking.

You open your door and reach inside to grab your keys. “Come on, we got the last room they had.”

Ransom gives you a look. “Fine. But as soon as the sun rises, we’re gone. I have a meeting at 9 for Harlan.”

You salute him. “Aye, Aye boss.”

You grab your luggage and just decide to go back in through the front with Ransom sulking behind you. You make sure to give the clerk a smile as you walk to the elevator.

You go up to the third floor and find your room pretty quickly. Only when you open the door do you remember there was only one bed. This should be interesting.

Ransom is quick to realize this. “Well, looks like we’ll be sleeping together.”

You turn around and point your finger at him. “Yes. And we are going to act like adults about it aren’t we?”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say, honey. I won’t be the one starting any funny business.”

You scoff and go over to the left side of the bed. “Well I sure as hell won’t be either.”

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Luckily, there is room service so you’re both able to order some dinner. Once both of you are full and showered, you decide to go to bed considering he was making you get up ‘as soon as the sun rises’.

You are able to have some space between you 2 at least. You don’t know if you could honestly control yourself if you were any closer. You really needed to get yourself in check.

After about an hour of not being able to sleep, you notice that it’s starting to cool down in the room. You turn over and look over at Ransom who’s already looking at you. “Do you think it’s gotten colder in here?”

He shrugs his left shoulder. “I suppose a little. Why don’t you go turn up the heat?”

You sigh and get out of bed. You go over to the heater by the window. It’s switched to on but it’s clearly not working. You go back to bed to get under the covers and grab the phone to dial the front desk.

“Front desk.”

“Yes, hi. I’m sorry to bother you but this is room 313 and I think our heat stopped working.”

“I’m so sorry about that. Unfortunately our nighttime maintenance guy wasn’t able to make it in due to the weather.”

“Oh, well. Is there anything that can be done?”

“Well, if it doesn’t come back on all night, I won’t make you pay for your stay. And you are welcome to as many extra blankets as you need.”

“Okay, well thank you very much. I think I’ll take a couple please.”

“Sure thing, I’ll bring them up in just a few minutes.”

You hang up and turn to Ransom. “Well we’re getting extra blankets.”

He looks at you confused. “Why not just have them fix the heater?”

“Cause the maintenance guy isn’t here because of the snow. And this was the last room when we checked in so I guess we’re stuck.”

His look turns into a smirk. “Well then I guess we’re going to have to get closer to keep warm. You know, body heat and all that.”

Before you have a chance to retort, you hear a knock at the door. You get up and greet the front desk lady and thank her for the extra blankets. You spread one out on top of the comforter and put the other one on the foot of the bed. It’s even colder than it was a minute ago. You quickly get back under the covers.

You turn away from Ransom and get settled. Just as you close your eyes, Ransom reaches around and puts his hand on your belly and scoots you right up against him.

You try to wriggle free. “Stop it, Y/N. This will seriously keep us warmer.”

Realizing he’s right, you stop resisting and try your best to relax against him. God, does it feel good. Too good.

Ransom tucks his face into the crook of your neck and wraps his arm around you a little tighter. You go to shift a little to get more comfy when you feel him against your ass. You let out a slight gasp.

You can hear the small groan that escapes Ransom’s mouth. Oh my. You need to hear that again. You ‘accidentally’ rub your ass up against his erection again. It does the trick. This groan is louder than the last one.

Before you can do it again, Ransom flips you so that you’re facing him and grabs your right leg to hook it around his hip and gets a hold of your ass to hold you against him. You look up into his eyes and see his usual blue ones have turned shades darker.

You bite your bottom lip and decide to keep teasing him. You attempt to grind into him when you’re met with a swift smack to your ass. “Oh, honey. You know you really shouldn’t tease me.”

You give him an innocent look. “I’m not sure I know what you’re meaning. I’m just trying to get comfortable.”

The look on his face is obvious that he doesn’t believe you. “Seriously, Y/N. Knock it off. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

Holy shit. So he wants you. Should you go for it?

Fuck it.

You try to lean in for a kiss when he pulls away. “No, Y/N.”

Oh. So you misread the situation.

He doesn’t want you.

He must see the rejected look on your face because he’s quick to press his left hand to your cheek. “It’s not that I don’t want you, honey. Because god, do I want you. But I can’t.”

You furrow your brows. “Why not? It’s okay if you want to.”

He gives you a sad smile. “Because I know that if we do this, I’ll want it again and again. And you deserve so much more than that. More than me.”

You press your right hand against his cheek. “Ransom, look. I want you. For more than just sex. I hate having to pretend I don’t have feelings for you because I do.”

He moves his hand to your back and presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I’ve never even been in a relationship. I know I’ll fuck it up. I mean look at my parents. My family. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

You press yourself as close to him as you can get. “Ransom I have been in relationships and I can’t promise you I wouldn’t fuck it up either. Sometimes you hurt people who you love the most. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try anyway. Because I think we’d be damn good together.”

He looks at you with hopeful eyes. “Love? Do you-do you love me?”

You move your gaze down out of embarrassment. But Ransom puts his finger under your chin and moves it back up. He looks at you expectantly. “If not, that’s okay. I mean I’m pretty sure that I love you. Although I’m not quite sure what that really feels like.”

You grab the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He lets out a soft moan as soon as your lips meet. You tangle your fingers in his hair as he starts rubbing his left hand up and down your back.

It feels surreal to finally be kissing him. And it’s so much better than anything your mind could come up with. It doesn’t even feel like a first kiss. It feels like you’ve been doing this since forever. Like you should’ve been doing this the whole time.

And now that you know what it feels like? You’re not sure you could ever go a day without it again.

Eventually you both have to breathe so you pull away. Not by much though. You rest your forehead against his again. “Like that. Love feels like that.”

After you both catch your breaths, he catches your gaze again. “I promise I’ll do my best to love you back because I want to know what it feels like to be loved by you. I’ll tell you right now I’m not going to be perfect. But for you, I’ll try. And you have my full permission to kick my ass if I screw up.”

You giggle. “Oh, don’t you worry Hughbert. I won’t be afraid to kick your ass.”

His eyes darken again. “What did you just call me?”

You confidently say, “Hughbert.”

He pushes you until you’re caged underneath him. You look up at him with surprised eyes. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Hughy?”

He gives you an evil smirk as he leans down to whisper in your ear, “I guess I’ll just have to suck on that pretty little clit until you’re screaming Ransom.”

A shiver runs down your spine. You need that more than you’ve ever needed anything. “Psh. Good luck with that, Hughbert.”

He leans back up and starts trailing kisses down your neck. When he reaches a certain sensitive spot, he stops and gives it extra attention. You begin writhing under him and try to push him away from that spot. He growls and grabs your hands and puts them above your head and lifts away from your neck just long enough to utter, “If these move again without my permission, I stop. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He only spends a few more minutes on that spot, making sure to leave a mark. He continues his trail downwards until he reaches your breasts. Since you’re not wearing a bra he can see that your nipples are at attention. He playfully nips at one eliciting a squeal from you. He moves his hands to the bottom of your shirt and looks up at you for permission.

You’ve never nodded faster.

He achingly slowly lifts your shirt off and throws it somewhere in the room. He takes your right nipple into his mouth while he starts kneading your left breast with his right hand. You let out a small moan at that.

Unfortunately for you, his left hand remains planted on the bed. You would prefer it elsewhere. You keep trying to grind up against him to get some sort of much needed friction. He just presses himself further against you to cease your movements.

You let out a little sigh of frustration. He releases your nipple with a pop and starts moving towards the other breast. “Patience, honey. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Before you can retort, he’s put your other nipple into his mouth to give it the same attention as the other one. Which is now being carefully kneaded by his other hand.

He only teases you for another few minutes before he continues his descent downwards, nipping and kissing you anywhere he can reach.

He reaches the waistband of the shorts you’re wearing and presses teasing kisses all across the edge of your shorts causing you to let out a huff of frustration. He lets out a laugh against your skin before moving down and pressing a kiss right to your clothed clit.

You let out a pathetic little whimper. “Please, don’t tease me. I’ll be good. Ransom, please.”

He smirks up at you as he removes your shorts. “I’ve barely started and already got you begging like a little slut. And no panties? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were hoping something would happen.”

You’re about to give a smart ass comment when Ransom grabs your hips and buries his face against your cunt.

He starts peppering kisses all over except the one place you really want him. You whine out totally aware of how pathetic you sound. But you’d do anything for him to give attention to your clit.

He stops the kisses and begins circling your clit with his tongue, careful not to touch it too much. He then moves down and gives attention to your lips and opening, nipping and licking his way around. You let out your most pathetic sound yet which catches his attention. “Don’t worry, honey. I got you.”

With that, he wraps his lips around your aching clit. You arch your back and thread one of your hands through his hair. He groans against your cunt, liking the feeling of your fingers pulling his hair. He doesn’t even care that he told you not to move them.

He starts sucking with a little more vigor and reaches his right middle finger down to start teasing your opening. He only puts the tip in before he takes it back out and circles it around again.

You lift his head off of your pussy and look him in the eye. “I promise to never call you Hughbert again if you stop teasing me and fuck me with your fingers.”

He gives you a smile that looks especially naughty with your juices all over his face. “You’re too easy, honey.”

He dives back in and wraps his lips around your clit again and inserts his first and middle finger into your pussy. He starts pumping them slowly, gradually picking up speed.

The sucking on your clit is getting more intense and you can tell you’re going to fall over the edge at any minute. You arch off the bed and start chanting his name, Ransom, out loud.

He looks up at you and almost cums in his pants at the sight of you losing control. It makes him pick up the thrusting of his fingers even more. He then bites down on your clit and that does it. You free fall over the edge. Your hand in his hair grips tighter and you grind up against his face as you ride out your high.

Once it starts to feel too sensitive, you push his head away. He chuckles and wipes his face off on the inside of your thighs. “A little sensitive there, honey?”

You pull on his hair, indicating you want him to come back up. Of course he has to slowly kiss his way back up your body, stopping at your breasts once again. Although this time he starts grinding his clothed erection against your bare pussy. “Oh, fuck Ransom. Please, need it.”

He raises up on his knees and takes his shirt off in that sexy way that guys do. He grabs his dick over his pants and starts rubbing. “Yeah, you need this cock, honey?”

You reach out to join his hand and start to realize how big he actually is. Oh fuck. “Yeah. Need it inside, please.”

He lowers his pants enough for his long, thick cock to spring free. It smacks against his abdomen. He grabs it and starts slapping it against your pussy. “Such a good girl, using her manners. Just for that, I’m going to give you exactly what you want.”

He leans down over you and pulls you in for a passionate kiss. “Just let me know if I need to stop and I will, okay?”

You nod. “I will. Just please.”

He guides his cock to your entrance and slowly starts to push in. The initial stretch burns a little and you let out a slight whimper. He looks up at you. “You okay?”

“Yes, just please don’t stop.”

After what feels like forever, he finally pushes all the way in. He stays still for a moment and rests his forehead against yours. “God damn you feel so good. Look, I love you Y/N, but I’m gonna fuck you like a whore now, okay?”

You look at him wide eyed, a little scared because of the size of him. But you’re never one to back down from a challenge. “Fuck me then, Ransom. I want to feel you for days.”

He raises up on his knees and grabs a hold of your hips and goes right into fast, hard thrusts. You wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together. Fuck he feels amazing. It stings a little but it feels way too amazing for him to stop. You know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

He looks down at you and smirks. “I always knew you’d feel good but fuck, Y/N.” He moves his right hand up to your breasts and goes back and forth between them, kneading and pinching your nipples.

You cover his left hand that’s still on your hip with your right hand and grab on. He takes the hint and lets go to interlock your fingers together and rests them back on your hip. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can already feel another one quickly approaching. He can feel it too.

He decides he’s not ready yet and pulls out. You don’t even have time to realize what is going on before you’re flipped onto your stomach. You go to get up on your hands and knees but Ransom pushes you back down. He straddles your legs and pushes back into you, resuming his previous thrusting.

Jesus Christ. He feels even bigger in this position. He rests one hand on your hip and occasionally smacks your ass with the other one.

Even though he stopped you from your orgasm, it doesn’t take long for another, more intense one to start building.

“Ransom, gonna cum. Please, please let me cum.”

He starts fucking you a little harder, a littler faster. He is able to get a hand under you to start circling your clit. “Then do it, honey. Soak this cock. Then I’m gonna fill you up. Would you like that?”

You eagerly nod. “Yes! Please fill me up! Need it!”

He changes the angle of his hips just slightly and adds just a little pressure to your clit and you’re gone. Your release sets off his and he groans your name out as he unloads into you. He gives a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out and falling down besides you face first on the bed.

Still on your stomach, you turn your head to face him. That’s all you’re really able to move at the moment anyway. You’re pretty sure if you tried to get up and walk right now, you’d fall down.

After a few moments, he moves his head to look at you. “Well, fuck. We should have done that a lot sooner.” Then you both burst out laughing.

The high from sex starts wearing off and the chill from earlier sets back in. You both grab for each other and cover yourselves back up with the blankets. You wrap your arms around his waist, tuck your face into the crook of his neck, and hook your leg over his waist. He was right, body heat definitely keeps you warmer.

He wraps the arm that isn’t under this head around your waist. You sigh in contentment and close your eyes, waiting for sleep to take you.

You then feel a slap to your ass and let out a little squeal. “Better get plenty of rest. We have to get up in only,” he checks his phone, “about 6 hours.”

You groan into his neck, completely forgetting he wanted to get up at the ass crack of dawn. “Whatever you say. Goodnight.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smile softly against his neck. “I love you too, Hughbert.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @harrysthiccthighss @patzammit @bluemusickid @wanderinglunarnights

#happyhoelidays2021 #ransom thrombey smut #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #soft ransom #this sweater wearing menace #sweater daddy #ransom drysdale #ransom x y/n #chris evans smut

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sunsinrinn · 4 years

Text

Secrets Part 11.

Bakugo x reader, Bakugo x Uraraka, Kirishima x Reader

Fluff- ish, language, angst

Word Count: 1,177

Idea: Y/n has a secret to share with bakugo not expecting a secret from him. She leaves heart broken and attempts to move on. But how will she move on if her secret can no longer be hidden? She fakes a relationship hoping its enough to not expose the true origin of the secret. (This is a terrible summary but I cant say much without spoiling future parts. 🙃)

Bakugo rushes to the Hospital and somehow manages to carry you in while you are still crying in pain. He yells for nurses to help and nurses come rushing to your aid

“Sir, what happened?”

“She’s going into labor! But she’s early”

“Okay sir, sit her down on the wheel chair and we will take her to a room where she can began labor.” Bakugo is hesitant to let you go alone but finally sets you down when you yell in pain, “BAKUGO SO HELP ME GOD, IF YOU DON’T SIT ME DOWN I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOU” ‘You’re scary rn’ he thinks and follows the nurse as you’re being taken away. Not long after they have you situated and ready for labor, Kirishima bursts through the door glaring at Bakugo, “YOU! I WILL FUCKING MURDER YOUR ASS-“

“NOT MY FAULT KIRISHIMA I JUST WANTED THE TRUTH.”

“Excuse me gentlemen, if you guys cannot shut up, I will have to kick you both out until Ms. L/N is finished giving birth.” The nurse glares at both of the men. Kirishima looks down, “I’m sorry ma’am.” And walks over to you. You are just attempting to keep calm but feel a contraction, “AHH”

*okay, we are skipping the birth part bc I’m not good at this :P hehe*

“It’s a beautiful and healthy girl! Congratulations Ms. L/N, what would you like to name her?”

“Um.. I’m not completely sure yet. I’d like to talk about it with my partners.”

You look over at Kirishima, and see he is tearing up at the sight of your baby and then you glance at Bakugo, who was sobbing at how beautiful she was.

The nurse nods and leaves you alone with the knuckleheads. “So, what are we naming her?” You ask both of them. But they ignore you as they watch as your baby was being taken away to get properly cleaned up. You roll your eyes and ask again, “What are we naming our baby girl, Dumbasses?” They look at you and Bakugo answers, “Ours?”

“Speaking of that...” Kirishima says right before he smacks Bakugo upside the head, “YOU EVER DO SOMETHING LIKE THAT AGAIN BAKUGO I WILL PERSONALLY MURDER YOUR ASS. GOT IT” Bakugo nods quickly scared at how Kirishima suddenly became scary-like. “Good, now my angel, what do YOU want to call our kid?”

You think about it for a second, “What about, Nao?”

They both nod and agree with the name. Bakugo stays quiet for a second before speaking up, “What about her last name?”

You and Kirishima stay quiet thinking about it. Bakugo speaks up again, “I understand if you dont want her with my last name...”

“Its- its not that, we were actually thinking of hyphenating both of yours and Eijirou’s last names...” you respond quietly. Bakugo smiles, “That’s a good idea.”

You smile at that, “Bakugo... There’s something we want to talk to you about-“ Kirishima widens his eyes and shakes his head.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugo says confused.

You clear your throat, “um... so... Kirishima and I were talking...”

Bakugo glances at Kirishima and Kirishima pretends to read the wash your hands flyer on the wall,

“Go on Y/N.” Bakugo says impatiently but before you respond the nurse walks in with your baby in tow, “Finally decided on the name, dearie?” You nod.

“Yes Ms., We want to call her Bakugo-Kirishima Nao.”

The nurse hums, “Ah, Nao means honesty such a pretty name.” You nod and think of the irony behind the name. “And two last names? Well that is not common.” You smile and shrug,

“We couldn’t choose a last name so we did both” the nurse nods, “Well, we will have that set up and here is your baby again.” She picks up the baby and hands her to you,

“She might be hungry so you should probably try and feed her.” With that the nurse leaves the four of you alone. You hold your baby close and smile at her. Kirishima and Bakugo crowd you as they try and fight over who gets to carry her first.

“Move out the Shitty Hair, I’m the father I should go first.”

“A dead-beat father, I should carry her first”

“I AM NOT A DEAD-BEAT FATHER, ESPECIALLY IF IM RIGHT HERE!”

You glare at both of them for scaring Nao but notice she did not even flinch at his voice. ‘Wow, used to his voice already.’

“None, of you are carrying her until Nao finishes eating” and with that both men pout like babies and sit down as you begin to feed her.

After a minute of silence, Bakugo speaks up remembering you had to talk.

“Oh yeah, Y/N, you said you needed to tell me something?”

You and Kirishima tense up. ‘Well damn.’

“Oh yeah.... heh, so, uh, its about us.”

“What about us?” Bakugo asks hopefully.

“So me and Kirishima... talked... about how you will fit into our lives now that you know...”

“Do... do you not want me near the baby?” He asks sadly.

“WHAT- no no no... its more about how me and Kirishima- Kiri-baby, why don’t you explain?” You ask him

Kirishima sends you a glare before clearing his throat.

“Bakugo, what she was trying to poorly explain is that- I cant fucking do it babes,”

“Just fucking tell me already.”

“Alright alright Bakugo. Meandy/narelikeinlovewithyoubutwedidntknowhowtosay”

“What the hell did you say Kirishima?”

Kirishima sighs, “Look bakugo, Y/N still has feelings for you. And I have feelings for you to. We are willing to let you be part of our family.”

Bakugo stares in shock unable to say anything.

You and Kirishima look at each other nervously.

“Is this a sick fucking joke?” Bakugo asks angrily.

You flinch, “No... We are being serious. We both like you.”

“YOU BOTH NEED TO STOP FUCKING PLAYING WITH MY EMOTIONS.” He says almost tearing up.

“We are not Bakugo. We are serious. But we have a condition.”

Bakugo sniffs, “You guys love me? Like even after what I did?”

“Bakugo, we know you didn’t mean to but you did hurt me. Uraraka was to blame here... overall we want to give you a second chance.”

“What’s-what’s the condition if I accept.”

“It’s not a hard one. There are only two things you need to do, go to therapy and anger management classes.”

“Thats all?” He asks nervously.

“Yes Bakugo. That’s all.”

“This isn’t a sick joke right?”

“No Bakugo, we are serious.” Kirishima responds for you.

He sheds a tear, “I- I can’t thank you both enough for giving me a chance... I swear to go to therapy, and that class, and thank you for letting me be in my daughter’s life. Thank you so much.” He reaches over to hug Kirishima and lets out a sob. Kirishima pats his back and smiles at you. You smile back and hold Nao tighter as she finishes eating. “You are lucky to have two loving parents little one.” You whisper to her.

Suddenly Kirishima’s phone rings, he looks down and pales, “It’s Mina.”

“Ah crap.”

SERIES MASTERLIST — Part 12

A/N: an update??? Jeez, sorry about not updating sooner but I got distracted :) I hope you enjoy this chapter! It seems a bit rushed but lmaoo. Anyways Bakugo didn’t get killed yet.

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts or future works dont hesitate to dm, ask, or comment! I hope you guys had a lovely day today! Also if you asked to be tagged and I didnt tag you send me a dm so I can fix it :) also any tags in italics and bold, I couldn’t tag you :/ I’m sorry </3 but I’ll work on it <3

Secrets Taglist: @hero-ink-pillar , @silentw-lkr , @ushiwakatrash , @purple-rabanito , @chaelysian , @puppycat714 , @fake-id-69 , @adaydreaminganon , @jessie9008 , @sam-i-am-1025 , @purple--nebula , @curiouslilbeast , @httpswwwtbhkcom , @setup-the-ace , @chanultis , @kit-kat428 , @thatonefangirl722 , @fxirylightsx , @katsuki-bakubae , @sakurakatsuki , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @wannabedaphne , @casey0407

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha

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thesierraharvey · 3 years

Photo

Welcome aboard, SIERRA HARVEY, STUDENT #11. we are excited to set sail with you ! has anyone told you that you look like DOVE CAMERON? According to our records, you hail from LOS ANGELES, USA, SHE/HER, are CIS FEMALE, and are here to study MUSIC. We also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your MONEY — we won’t tell anyone. During your first few weeks here, other students said you were SWEET, EMPATHETIC, but also RECKLESS. It sounds like you spend most of your time at the ZEN ROOM. Upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a GUITAR brought from home. Hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

Please note all trigger warnings before continuing: mentions of physical abuse, sexual abuse of a minor, alcoholism, post-traumatic stress disorder, depression

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Sierra has always been the sweet girl who cares about others more than she cares about herself. Some think this is a fake persona she puts on and they think this more when they find out she was raised doing pageants. They usually think it’s a kind of show but she really does just care about people’s happiness. She is 100% the type of girl to cry when in an argument and hates being shouted at. In spite of Sierra’s need to make sure everyone is happy, she’s very reckless with herself. She holds a lot of trauma in her head that she doesn’t deal with healthily. If she can look after others, she doesn’t have to look after herself. This makes her quite reckless with things like alcohol because it helps to numb her for a little while. She doesn’t think she has a problem. Sierra is quite a naturally flirty person - whether she means to be or not - and loves physical connection. She loves hugs and feeling close to people. If you have Sierra as a friend, she is undyingly loyal and would always be there for you no matter what. Sierra can be a little naive from time to time and struggles at recognising liars. Overall, she’s a sweet girl with a kind heart but struggles to be kind to herself.

P A S T

Sierra was born on 11th June 1999 to Marie and Michael Harvey. Michael was an oncologist and Marie owned her own dance school. They originally met when Marie was a patient after finding a lump in her breast. Luckily, she could be treated and survived this. The second she was no longer a patient, Michael asked her on a date and they were married within two years to then have Sierra. Marie had a lot of ambition growing up and participated in pageants but as she grew older, she felt she was no longer pretty enough to take part in competitions and ended up opening her own dance school with the money she had made from her crowns. Now that she had a daughter, she could push all of her ambition on to her daughter. She was signing her up for pageants left right and center since she was 5 years old. Although she was pushed in every direction from dancing to baton twirling to gymnastics, the main skills she loved the most was musical instruments and singing. Her early life consisted of a lot of pressure and a lot of travelling to different states to take part in competitions. Her father, however, did his best when she was around to keep up with her education and trying to treat her like a normal child. They’d go to the park, they’d get ice cream. He spotted how much passion she really had for music outside of it being used for competitions that he really invested in her learning music. It was fair to say he was a supportive dad who cared deeply about his daughter while her mother saw her as a way to relive her own youth. In her mother’s eyes, she was an object whether she would admit that or not.

During her pageant competitions, Sierra did very well. Most often, she was in the top three and won quite a number of crowns and prizes. The few occasions when she wouldn’t be in the top three, her mother would get furious - blaming her, asking her why she couldn’t do more. When I say she would get verbally abusive, I’m not kidding. It rarely got physically abusive but there were the occasional times in her teens where she would get a slap if she didn’t get something right. In a competition when she was 14, it was looking like Sierra wouldn’t make it in to the top and her mother felt like she had to do something to stop her daughter losing. She took Sierra to the dressing room of one of the judges and left her there for the man to do anything he wanted with her. She never spoke about the abuse she suffered there but it was enough to win her the crown which was all her mum cared about. Marie let this happen two more times in the next year. It wasn’t until she came back home to Los Angeles with her mum and a crown in hand that her dad noticed the bruises on her wrists. He’d noticed she’d been a little off over the past few months. She’d snap out of nowhere and hate being touched by anyone. He’d tried his best to get out of her what had happened subtly but when he noticed the bruises, he followed her to her bedroom where she was unpacking and locked the door. Michael sat her down and out right asked her what happened. After a few claims of nothing, he just kept pointing out evidence that gave him the reason to ask until finally Sierra burst in to tears and told him everything. Michael promptly kicked Marie out of the house and got a swift divorce, winning custody of Sierra and getting a restraining order against Marie for both himself and Sierra as well as making sure all the money won from Sierra’s pageants were put in to a savings account for her to access when she was 18 so that Marie could not handle any of the money. He got three different men charged with sexual assault on a minor so they would spend time in jail for what they did to his daughter.

Her dad did everything he could to help Sierra. He got her in to therapy which took multiple sessions for her to open up at all but when she did finally open up, she told them everything. She was officially diagnosed with PTSD and depression. She takes anti-depressants to keep her balanced and for her lack of sleep, she was initially given sleeping pills to make sure she slept however, her nightmares were made worse by the sleeping pills so they had to use alternative forms of therapy to try and help her. Sierra’s main use of therapy was reigniting her true passion for music and writing songs. Another method being meditation and yoga to feel more in control of herself and her body. However, she does keep one method away from her therapist and that is alcohol. She likes the way her body feels loose and numb when she’s drunk as well as the fact she doesn’t worry about anything. It’s how she ended up in the party scene of LA with fake IDs. Her dad wasn’t exactly happy about her being drunk when she was still young but it was getting harder to control her. He understood why she was doing all of this and he was doing his best to lightly stop her. Michael ended up finding a job back in his hometown in (insert Student #4′s location here), he decided to move him and Sierra out there to get her away from the scene she was finding herself in.

P R E S E N T

Sierra went along with the move and when they were there, she settled a lot more. Michael ended up reconnecting with an old childhood friend and first girlfriend which led to them reigniting their previous love and starting a relationship. Now they are married and merged their two households together giving Sierra a step-sibling around the same age as her. She now has access to her money from her pageant days and has used this money to study music at university which is how she has ended up here.

#seasintro #about #tw:abuse #tw:sexual abuse of a minor #tw:mentions of physical abuse #tw:ptsd #tw:depression #tw:alcoholism

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kurogiriis · 4 years

Note

Hiii! your doing so well on your blog 🥰 could I request a headcannon where Aizawa and Hizashi accidentally hurt student reader during the final exam. They even have a permanent scar or limp but they don’t blame the teacher at all for what happed. I crave some dadzawa cuz there’s not many platonic headcannos as of late 😔

A/N: AAA dadzawa is so pure I-🥰 also DADMIC!!!! I’ve read like an amassed total of 2 fics about him and I seriously need more :P I kept the same pairs as in canon but switched one of the characters with the reader hopefully that makes sense

Hizashi Yamada - Present Mic

Present Mic watched as you groaned on the floor holding your bleeding ears.

After getting out of the arena with the help of Kouda’s bugs, you noticed everything sounded weird and your body was off-balance.

The ringing sound was excruciatingly painful, and you couldn’t see where it was coming from or how to make it stop.

Worried, Present Mic walked towards you and called for immediate help from Recovery Girl.

However, this couldn’t be cured with her quirk.

When Present Mic heard Recovery Girl’s words, he was heartbroken and overcome with guilt.

He knew his quirk could be dangerous, but he didn’t notice he was overusing it with his own students.

Although he was deaf himself, he knew the struggles that came with it.

Regardless of how many times you clarified you knew it was an accident and that he should leave it in the past, he always apologized whenever he noticed you were having a hard time doing something due to your hearing loss.

He took it upon himself to teach you sign language and show you the ropes around hero-work when you couldn’t hear anything. He became a bit overprotective over you, and you became his not-so-secret favorite student.

He always rooted for you during school events and even bragged about your wins to other teachers.

He was so proud of how far you’d come, and you were glad your teacher was always by your side to help you.

Aizawa Shouta - Eraserhead

You and Yaoyorozu had finally settled on a plan. Both of you knew that capturing the villain, in this case Eraserhead, would practically impossible.

Managing to put the handcuffs on him was an unfathomable task when his capture weapon came into sight. There was just no way to get close to him without getting captured yourself.

However, you still needed to find a way to escape.

His capture weapon and your inability to use your quirks were a major drawback.

As you were running towards the exit, you noticed Momo was not by your side anymore. When you looked behind you, you noticed she was dangling by her foot on Aizawa’s capture weapon.

You ran towards her and used your quirk to jump-kick your teacher.

However, while you were in midair, his red eyes locked with yours and you started falling.

He tried using his capture weapon to catch you or to at least break your fall, but he was not fast enough.

With a loud crack, you landed on the floor, screaming in pain once your nerves felt your hip breaking.

The face you made was ingrained in his brain, gnawing at him slowly along with guilt.

Quickly, he and the other teachers got you to recovery girl’s office where she tried her best to heal your injury.

Once recovery girl was done and you had gotten rest, Aizawa visited you with a swarm of apologies.

He feels incredibly bad about the accident. Although he would never admit to it, he cared about all of his students as if they were his own children. Seeing you get hurt because of him broke his heart.

He knew he had to be more careful. After all, he was the teacher and the Pro-Hero, he should’ve calculated the risk of incapacitating your quirk while you were in midair. He blamed himself for everything and relentlessly looked for a way to make it up to you.

After months of physical therapy, your limp never truly went away and Aizawa will forever feel guilty about that.

He didn’t want to be the end of your hero career, so he took it upon himself to help you train regardless of your limp.

You became closer and he was kind of like a father figure to you.

Although you told him you didn’t mind your limp and that you knew it was an accident, you notice how his expression falls a little whenever your limp gets in the way. Nevertheless, every time you succeed his heart swells with pride.

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imgoingtocrash · 4 years

Text

knowing (of everything she doesn’t)

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: G

Word Count: 9,097

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Michelle Jones, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker

Summary:

“Mister Stark means a lot to me, M,” Peter says firmly, effectively ending the discussion.

“I know,” she answers, squeezing his hand where it rests over the cupholder between them.

Looking out the window, what she thinks to herself is: do you mean that much to him?

Maybe it’s overprotective or presumptuous of her—she’s only known Peter well for a couple of years and has been dating him for less than one.

It’s just—in all that time, in all of the stories of his alter-ego’s exploits that he’s finally shared…she just can’t see how the universe-saving multibillionaire fits into all of this.

MJ joins Peter for a Thanksgiving visit to the Starks' lake house. It turns out that even after years of quiet observation and a few months of dating, there are still things about Peter Parker and his life that manage to surprise her.

Read on AO3

My gift for @peter-stank for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!! Happy belated Birthday, Beedee, and thank you so much for your amazing contributions to the fandom. Hopefully you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 (Fic also under the cut, as requested by the exchange/until reveal.)

They’re an hour into a two and a half hour drive when Michelle decides to drop the question.

“Isn’t it weird?” MJ asks. “Casually being invited to your boss’s house for Thanksgiving?”

Peter shrugs, but she can see the way his shoulders tense underneath his hoodie when he answers, “Maybe. Before.”

Before doesn’t need to be clarified. The Blip.

“Besides, he makes a mean turkey stuffing. I promise, that’s worth it,” Peter attempts to deflect, the barest hint of a smile directed her way.

But Michelle has never been good at leaving well enough alone. She asks too many questions, sometimes makes people uncomfortable. It’s how she got good at academic decathlon and how she (mostly) figured out Peter was Spider-Man.

“What changed?”

“Hm?”

“The Blip was traumatic for everyone in one way or another. Why did it change things with Tony?” She never refers to him as Mister Stark despite Peter rarely ever calling his mentor anything else.

“It just…did.” Peter shrugs again, eyes determinately focused on the road ahead and far away from her. “He lost me, I almost lost him, it sucked. That’s all.”

“Okay, but—“ It just doesn’t make sense to her that he was an intern at SI or a superhero colleague or whatever, and somehow it added up to…whatever this is. Schlepping up to the Catskills in Peter’s hand-me-down Toyota for a few days at the Starks’ cabin. Like, that’s just a thing that Peter has been invited to do, and he doesn’t think anything of it.

“Mister Stark means a lot to me, M,” Peter says firmly, effectively ending the discussion.

“I know,” she answers, squeezing his hand where it rests over the cupholder between them.

Looking out the window, what she thinks to herself is: do you mean that much to him?

Maybe it’s overprotective or presumptuous of her—she’s only known Peter well for a couple of years and has been dating him for less than one.

It’s just—in all that time, in all of the stories of his alter-ego’s exploits that he’s finally shared…she just can’t see how the universe-saving multibillionaire fits into all of this.

They arrive at the lake house just as the sun’s setting, the orange hues reflecting across the water.

A loud thwack breaks the relative silence that’s formed by the car’s engine turning off.

“Petey!” shrieks the high pitched little voice that accompanies a little blur of movement out of the house.

Peter’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, a smile blown wide across his face. He kicks the door open—used to the way it sometimes sticks—and just barely misses hitting the brown-haired little girl that can only be Morgan Stark in her precious little head.

“Morgie!” Peter shouts in a parrot of her tone, not bothering to shut the door behind him before he picks up the five-year-old girl, spinning them both around in circles while she screams with laughter.

“’S so good to see you,” Peter says, pressing sloppy kisses to Morgan’s cheeks. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah! Daddy said you were coming for a whole week this time, and I have a whole list of movies that you have to watch with me, and—“

Morgan trails on, but MJ is watching Peter—his attention is zeroed in on the girl in his arms, his megawatt grin on full display. He’s comfortable with her. She called him Petey—a nickname she knows is usually reserved only for May. She knew Peter was close with Morgan, but she’d always assumed it was in that way she sees her younger cousins every holiday and they think she’s the coolest person in the world for exactly eight hours, and then they don’t see or speak to each other again until the next family event, rinse and repeat.

The girl stops herself, moving her eyes directly to MJ and locking on. She’s always kind of hated that about little kids—they look into your soul and just kind of know things.

“Who’s that?” Morgan asks, more firmly wrapping her arms around Peter, as if to protect him.

(The only danger Peter’s been in from MJ in the last three hours was during their argument about road trip playlists. Particularly, Peter’s memetic gag of repeating What’s New Pussycat? on the same playlist multiple times and thinking she wouldn’t stop it before the first It’s Not Unusual.)

Michelle decides to get out of the car and introduce herself instead of awkwardly staring through the open door. It’s a bit of a chore—the passenger door’s handle is finicky—but she gets out without landing her ass in the mud and considers it a win. She still wipes her hands on her pants as she rounds the car, trying to remove any weird, nervous sweat. She’s not worried about it. She’s fine.

“I’m, um. Michelle,” she states, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Morgan’s head quirks to the side, looking Michelle up and down before she screams, “Daddy, Petey brought some weird stranger to Thanksgiving!” directly into Peter’s ear.

“Ow,” he hisses, rubbing at his earlobe. “Morgan, that’s not cool, MJ is—“

Morgan doesn’t let Peter finish, sticking out her tongue and wriggling out of Peter’s arms, running off towards the house as fast as she came out of it.

Tony Stark himself opens the screen door of the cabin next, chuckling as his daughter weaves between his legs. The effects from the battle with Thanos are clear—though it’s less intense than she imagines it was a year ago. White scar tissue spindles through the right side of Tony’s face, following down under his t-shirt and transitioning into to the metal arm painted the iconic Iron Man color scheme of red and gold.

Peter showed her the specs of that arm shortly after they got together—apparently Tony finished his rehab just after their trip to Europe, and it was supposed to be a gift from Peter. Seeing it on the man himself is…daunting, to say the least.

“Sorry about her,” Tony says, easing himself down the stairs as he approaches. There’s no kind of limp, but he seems to take his time with it all the same. “She gets a little territorial with us sometimes. Pep says we need to get her around more kids her own age, but the idea of sending her off to preschool…”

He shakes his head like he’s clearing cobwebs. She has to admit, he seems more human like this, surrounded by nature, talking about his daughter, the sun showing the lighter, grey strands of his hair more clearly.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says, pulling Peter into a hug. It’s not just a one-armed casual sort of hug either, but a full one that goes on for a minute, dramatically rocking them back and forth. “Ugh, I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days, Mister Stark!” Peter’s laughing reply is muffled into Tony’s shoulder. When they come apart, the smile from earlier has returned. Tony’s hands—robotic and human—have moved to Peter’s shoulders.

“A week. A whole week! I can’t spend that much time away from you anymore. It aggravates my angina.”

“Now you’re just trying to be embarrassing,” Peter grumbles, reluctant when the other man runs his hand through Peter’s gelled hair and musses it up just so.

“Absolutely,” Tony admits. He turns to Michelle. “You must be the famous scary girlfriend.”

“You’re just as bad as Morgan!” Peter whines. MJ isn’t sure she’s ever heard him sound so childish in his life despite the fact that he acts like a giant, overexcited goofball ninety percent of the time.

“My reputation precedes me,” Michelle ends up replying, shaking Tony’s hand when it’s offered. For some reason she was more nervous to meet Morgan than her father. Maybe it’s just her instinct to not be intimidated by rich tycoon types. Then again…she and the rest of the world know that he’s much more than that. Still. Old habits die hard.

“Now see, she can take a joke. I like her,” Tony says, nodding at Peter. Peter’s face goes a soft red, just edging on a full blush. She doesn’t really care if Tony likes her, but Peter clearly does.

Tony hooks an arm around both of their shoulders, leading them up to the house.

“Seriously, it’s good to have you guys. I’ve kind of been dreaming about the holidays—it got me through a lot of my physical therapy sessions,” he admits. It seems to be a more vulnerable comment than he lets on—Peter leans his head onto Tony’s shoulder. He’s almost too tall for it, but it’s…weirdly sweet. Peter’s big on physical comfort, as she now knows. Apparently even Tony has gotten used to it.

“Christmas is going to be a goddamn blow out, trust me,” Tony continues, breaking their grouping to lead them into the house. “Wall to wall Avengers, a mountain of presents. I’m slowly but surely convincing Pepper to let me build a fully functioning Santa’s sleigh to put on the roof.”

“No, he’s not,” comes a voice from deeper in the house. Pepper Potts steps in from what must be the kitchen, wiping flour off on the apron around her waist. “I will accept the light-up ones that are meant to be decoration and nothing else.”

Pepper presses a finger into her husband’s chest firmly, spreading a puff of flour and accenting her point with a quick peck to his lips. It’s a surprisingly domestic scene. She looks at Peter, and he’s looking at her already, soft doe eyes and a mind probably full of gross, sweet things that are way, way in their future.

Dork, she mouths. His returning smile is predictably un-cowed.

“You kids are just adorable,” Tony comments. Pepper nudges him with an elbow on her way to Peter.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says, pressing a kiss to his head and holding her hands up. “I’d hug you but—“

“All good,” Peter replies. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, no. You unpack, relax. I’ve got it, just—semi-literally have my fingers in a lot of pies, right now.”

“That’s code for please, god, don’t let a Parker near my cooking,” Tony whispers to her.

“Enhanced. Hearing.” Peter’s look at his mentor is the closest to peeved that he really gets. (She has to admit, though—there’s a reason they mostly go out or order in on dates. Cooking isn’t really either of their fortes.)

“Boys,” Pepper hums. It sounds like this is a common occurrence in the Stark household. “It’s nice to meet you, Michelle. Peter talks about you all the time. Again, I’d shake your hand, but—“ She holds up her palms, shrugging.

“No it’s—super awesome to meet you. Thank you for having me.” It’s actually beyond awesome. Despite her beef with Stark Industries and their ilk, she has to admit Pepper Potts is pretty high on her list of inspirational female powerhouses. She became CEO at 40 with only a Bachelor’s in Business and a Fine Arts minor, and Stark Industries entered a historic era of technology production and philanthropy under her guidance.

“Oh my god, you’re totally starstruck right now, aren’t you?” Peter questions in her ear, quieter than Tony so that only she hears.

“Shut up,” she says between her teeth, swatting at his arm without breaking her smile at Pepper.

Pepper smiles, giving Tony a look that Michelle can’t decipher. It might be flirtatious? Are she and Peter reminding Pepper of Tony and herself when they were younger? Her life is so weird, right now.

“I’ll go get our stuff,” Peter offers, out the screen door before she can argue that she doesn’t need his help. Like, it’s nice that her boyfriend can lift an entire car’s worth of stuff in one go, but she doesn’t always need him to. It feels a little…exploitative of his powers, somehow.

“I have a five-year-old to console,” Tony says, then quirks his head. “Chide? Eh, I’ll feel it out in the moment. Maybe a little of both. Make yourself comfortable, Michelle.”

Pepper watches Tony ascend the stairs, a what can you do? sort of look on her face towards MJ.

“Seriously, you and Peter have the afternoon to yourselves. If you need anything, just ask FRIDAY.” Pepper points up to the ceiling, as if that’s where the AI lives—which, maybe it does—before she turns around and attends to the beeping timer coming from the kitchen.

Michelle’s had a little experience with Peter’s AI, Karen, but the whole house being run by a super AI is something totally out of the norm. Honestly, she’ll probably just ask Peter any questions to avoid conversing with it.

She takes the chance alone to really observe her surroundings. From the outside the house looked like a pretty rustic cabin, but inside it’s a mostly-open floor plan mix of modern design and homey decor.

In particular, she notices the walls and surfaces are covered in pictures. The entryway features what can only be a shot of Tony and Pepper’s wedding day. The lake is featured behind them—Tony in a suit, Pepper in a white maternity dress that accentuates her pregnant belly.

Further into the living area there’s a larger variety of shots: Baby Morgan in Tony’s arms at the hospital, a few older shots with faces Michelle recognizes—Bruce Banner, James Rhodes, and even a group shot of the Avengers, smiling and receiving Medals of Honor from the Mayor of New York.

Nestled in a few shots of Morgan at a few different ages is a familiar face. Peter is pictured with Tony—it’s a selfie that was clearly printed, Peter making a goofy face combating Tony’s unamused expression. Next to it is a more recent picture. It appears to be from the spring shortly after the battle. Morgan is sitting in Peter’s lap, her hands covered in sticky popsicle juice while Peter is taking a lick from the offered desert over her shoulder. Clearly a candid moment.

Finally, nestled in-between a shot of the Starks teaching a younger Morgan how to swim and a press picture of Tony and Pepper from a gala she can’t identify is one of Peter and Tony on the very couch next to her, both of them asleep and pajama-clad, like they’d fallen asleep like that the night before and someone caught it the morning after.

“Ugh, that one’s so bad,” Peter says, suddenly behind her. He has a talent for sneaking up on her, one that would probably be more useful if he wasn’t always running his mouth and announcing his presence, particularly to bad guys. “Of course you found it.”

“I didn’t realize—“ she starts, but frowns, unsure of exactly what she’s thinking. It’s so…homey, here, and Peter’s clearly welcome. She knew he visited a lot, but this… “You’re all over the place.”

Peter clearly doesn’t think anything of it, shrugging. “I, um. We didn’t have anywhere to go after, you know?”

He’s never comfortable talking about the Blip or the battle against Thanos. A lot of people aren’t, but Peter in particular always stumbles through it. In the months of their dating, he’s only brought it up if she’s asked, never on his own.

“We lived here for a while. Our old apartment belonged to someone else, but May wouldn’t take any charity, wouldn’t accept the Starks’ penthouse in the city. She and Pepper looked for a place in Queens for months, but there were suddenly all of those people looking for housing…”

He loses himself for a moment. He does this sometimes too, drifting off like he’s disconnected, unable to keep himself in the here and now.

She takes his hand, and with a squeeze he comes back. There aren’t any tears, but there’s a weight in his eyes that she recognizes: guilt. For having a home when others still don’t months later. For failing at stopping Thanos the first time. For any number of other things he’s yet to reveal to her.

“Peter…” she tries, but what can she say? It’s times like this that she wishes she was…more. That she was better equipped to handle this superhero life that he’s so dedicated to. He takes the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she hasn’t figured out exactly how to give him a break, to take some of the weight as her own, or if she ever can.

“It’s fine, I’m—anyway, it was just…kind of nice, after everything that happened. Tony was recovering from here, Pepper was working from home a lot, Morgan was scared, I was…” He clears his throat, not finishing the sentence. “It was good to have everyone under one roof for a while, that’s all.”

She tucks herself into his side in a hug, unsure how else to respond. He would accept platitudes but he wouldn’t believe them. She rarely knows the right thing to say, anyway. Maybe this is the best she can do.

He pats her shoulder, breaking the quiet. “Come on, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Peter keeps his arm around her as they walk, squeezing them both up the stairs with their backpacks in hand.

“We’re staying in my room.” He stops walking, stiffening in a way that makes her feel—well, her age. They haven’t even really discussed sex, but any discussions past their first few chaste kisses have turned out a little awkward, stumbling forward because neither of them have dated before this.

“I mean, as long as that’s okay with you, I can take the couch, or—“

“No, no, that’s fine. We’ve shared before,” she mumbles, knowing there have been a few times May must have seen them asleep on Peter’s bed and let them be. She assumes his aunt’s open door policy will stay in place, likely why the Starks are okay with them sharing. Not like she has much desire to do anything in the Starks’ house, and especially with a five-year-old only a few rooms away.

“Your room?” she asks, moving them along. She assumed he and May just shared a guest bed or something that he just took over whenever he visited, not that he had a room of his own.

“It, ah—Mister Stark insisted,” Peter laughs, but mixed in with the slight embarrassment is something warm too, shown by how Peter’s gaze turns to the door clearly labeled Morgan’s Room in a pretty cursive font, likely Pepper’s work. She can hear the soft murmurs of Tony’s voice in the room, meaning that Peter can probably hear the entire conversation.

There’s a bathroom in the hall that’s a mix of Morgan’s colorful bath toys and what she knows is Peter’s deodorant sitting on the sink counter. Next to Morgan’s room is another bedroom, likely Tony and Pepper’s. At the end of the hall is where they stop, the unmarked door holding a room that is different from Peter’s in New York, but funnily enough, almost more expressive of him.

Peter hasn’t made it a secret that he doesn’t love his new apartment—it’s smaller than their old place, and devoid of the memories from his Uncle Ben’s presence. He seems to think there’s not much point in decorating it with the future expectation of college dorms ahead of them, and has apparently spilled most of his personal effects across this room instead.

The A New Hope poster on the wall is one of the nicer reproductions, framed and—signed by Mark Hamill, of course, probably a gift from Tony. A hologram is up on the desk, the Spider-Man symbol lazily floating around like a desktop screensaver. There are a few Lego sets unfinished in the corner—Peter rarely finishes them without Ned to keep them on task.

It’s Peter spilling out of every crumpled sheet of loose-leaf paper, every sneaker missing its mate.

Peter immediately takes to cleaning up the array of dirty clothes on the floor, mumbling apologies. She spies a faded hoodie with the cracked screen-printing of MIT’s logo among the mess before he scoops it up too.

“I was in a hurry last time I was here, sorry. Pepper says she won’t clean up after me because it sets a bad example for Morgan—which I totally get! But also, I mean, you’ve met me.”

It’s as self-explanatory as he makes it sound—he has a busy life. Sometimes, when stuff is crazy, a few dirty socks on the floor don’t really matter so much.

However, she also senses that some part of him likes the mess. His room in the city is a cramped box, and the charging case for the Iron Spider takes up an entire corner on its own. Here, he’s free to spread himself across the floors and up the walls as much as he likes.

“Yeah, Parker, you are kind of a mess,” she teases, only smiling more at his response of wrinkling his nose up at her.

“Anyway,” he continues with a grunt, flinging a sock into a hamper that’s overfull like he’s some kind of basketball star and frowning when it bounces into the floor instead. “Since Pepper’s kicked us out of the kitchen and Mo is being a grouch, we can do whatever. FRIDAY has any movie or show you could want—comedies, romcoms, that sad documentary about polar bears you like…“

“It’s not sad, it’s realistic.”

“What’s real is that you watched me cry about the ice caps melting for like thirty minutes, M.”

He brings her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying them in place like it’s some kind of grand romantic moment, the two of them bickering in the middle of his messy bedroom at Tony Stark’s house. For some reason she has the impression that he’ll spurt into a tall and lanky mess in a few years, but for now she’s still looking down at him just a smidge, meaning he’s looking up at her all…mushy and enamored.

“As we all should,” she replies, failing to sound serious because she’s suddenly distracted by the hint of Peter’s teeth peeking out of his smile. Her boyfriend is so cute, which, yes, she knew that, but it’s just—he’s so much, Peter Parker, and she’s barely even scratched the surface after quietly watching him for years and thinking she had him all figured out. It’s intimidating, to see the open emotion on his face and know there’s even more that she’d never considered underneath.

“I—“ She takes a breath, trying to recover from the flustered blush that’s creeped up her cheeks without her permission. “Nap. I could go for a nap. That sounds good, right?”

Peter’s smile grows—he’s always so entertained when he breaks her brain like this, so smug that he’s one of the only people that can.

At her warning look, he lets her awkward stumbling drop, holding up his hands. “Yeah, MJ, that’s—sounds good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

If she picked that activity for an excuse to hold Peter close for a few hours alone after the barrage of meeting so many new people, well, no one has to know.

“Pete.” A voice she only vaguely recognizes is within the edge of her consciousness. It’s not her step-father, so she chooses to ignore it, snuggling into the warmth under her head further. “Spiiiider-baby. Kiddo, c’mon, wake up.”

Her eyes open just a slit—watery vision turned milky by the overpowering beam of light that leaks in. In the darkness of the room, she finds Peter’s face, still firmly buried in his pillow. Behind him, partially obscured by the curve of his shoulder and the powerful light from the hallway, is Tony.

He smiles when he catches her eyes. “Not the one I planned on, but hey, one out of two’s not bad.”

“Peeetey,” Tony tries Peter again, this time accompanying his calls with a touch to Peter’s head, he’s—running his hand through Peter’s hair? Is she dreaming? “Buddy, it’s time to get up. It’s dinnertime.”

“Hm?” finally comes Peter’s groggy response, slurred as he turns into Tony’s hand.

“Magic words,” Tony jokes to her, stroking Peter’s curls again, fully mussing what’s already been ruined by their nap.

“Feels nice,” Peter sighs. He squeezes the arm he has around MJ, as if for emphasis. “M’comfy.”

“Aw, they’re so cute when they’re sleepy,” Tony full-on coos, and that seems to do it, eliciting a groan from Peter’s chest against her ear.

“You’re so embarrassing, Mister Stark.” Peter bats Tony’s hand away this time, rubbing at his eyes and flitting them over to the holographic clock on the desk—6:30 PM.

“We slept a while.”

“I’ll say. I had Morgan all primed for an apology and you two were totally passed out.”

MJ removes herself from Peter’s hold, running a hand through her loosened ponytail and catching a few matted curls with a frown.

Tony turns up the lights slowly, sliding the switch to half-power.

“I negotiated that you two would watch Mulan with her after dinner, by the way. She tests people with how they react to Disney movies. Don’t ask me why.”

Peter nods solemnly, stretching his arms with a few quick pops.

“I got Tangled. Ned and I went to see it with Ned’s little sister as kids, but I still got all choked up at the whole hair-cutting scene. Cemented me with her for life.”

Peter literally rolls off of the bed, landing on his feet as if he’d simply sat up and stood like a normal person.

She and Tony are similarly unimpressed.

“The fact that you also act like her personal spidery-jungle-gym probably doesn’t hurt either,” he comments.

“You’re just mad that she doesn’t play Iron Man as much anymore.”

Tony sniffs, but doesn’t deny it. “Pizza’s getting cold. Pepper was too tired to cook anything else tonight, and I instantly agreed.”

“But have you ever had pizza for Thanksgiving?” Peter inquires, tapping his skull with his pointer finger like this idea holds the secrets of the universe. “You order the night before and eat it reheated the next day. No cooking required.”

“Just say May burned a turkey the year before and you were scared,” Tony replies. “It’s so much faster that way.”

“I’ll have you know it was Uncle Ben who was scared—“

By the time they’ve moved on to weighing the importance of tradition versus creating new traditions, Michelle has managed to brush her hair back into a more controlled ponytail and has splashed a little water on her face in the bathroom.

They’re still in Peter’s room going at it when she returns.

“You guys talk a lot,” she interrupts.

They both go silent, look at each other, then shrug. It’s like looking into a mirror, in a weird way, and she’s concerned that she’s dating half of that mirror when the other half is Tony Stark, who spent years flying around in a suit of armor and almost died on multiple occasions.

“Daddy!” Morgan thumps her way up the stairs, sliding into Tony’s legs on socked feet. “Mommy said you’re taking too long.”

Tony easily brings his daughter into his arms, bouncing her on his hip and leading them down the stairs that way.

“Oh she did, did she?” he asks, voice taking on a playful quality. “That doesn’t sound like Mommy. She usually just tells me to hurry the fu—“

“Mister Stark!” Peter interjects, slapping his hands over Morgan’s ears and awkwardly hovering over Tony’s shoulder on the stairway to do it. Honestly, it would probably be more comfortable for him to just get on the ceiling at this point.

“Oh, I’m kidding! I wasn’t actually gonna say it!”

Tony pulls Morgan out of Peter’s loose grip, moving all of them forward and almost sending Peter toppling down the stairs. MJ grabs the back of Peter’s shirt even though she suspects his feet are doing the steadying for him.

“You guys are like some kind of messed up comedy troupe,” Michelle comments, watching Peter pout and dust off his clothes as if it will rid him of any embarrassment.

Pepper shakes her head at all of them as they enter the kitchen, probably having heard at least some of that. “More like a circus,” she grumbles.

“We do have an alpaca,” Tony adds, placing Morgan onto her feet.

“I think that’d be more of a petting zoo,” Peter argues.

“Michelle, I’m sorry about them,” Pepper says. “Get whatever you want, we always order plenty for Mister-Mega-Metabolism over here.”

Pepper points to Peter, who has already unceremoniously shoved half of a slice of pepperoni pizza in his mouth and has a trail of grease slipping down his chin.

“You guys are so mean,” he sulks without bothering to swallow, meaning the words are a garbled, spitting mess. “Mister Stark’s the one that keeps nagging me about my blood sugar!”

“You’re attracted to this,” Tony says to Michelle, pointing at Peter. “This? Really?”

“He’s alright,” she answers, dragging both a slice of vegetarian and a slice of cheese onto her own plate without bothering to look at Peter’s fake-hurt expression.

“MJ, you’re supposed to be on my side, this is—I can’t even—“

In his distraction, Morgan decides to be sneaky. Only MJ seems to catch her subtle movements toward Peter, using her short height to her advantage and the element of surprise to steal what’s left of the piece of pizza from Peter’s hand. She giggles to herself triumphantly, biting into it herself.

“Morgan, sweetie, that’s—“ Pepper tries, but seems to lose the end of the admonishment that was probably about germs.

Peter only smiles, crouching as if preparing for a fight.

“Here they go,” Tony hums, expectant in a way Michelle certainly isn’t.

“You better watch out, you little—!” In a fit of laughter, Morgan sprints out of the kitchen, Peter hot on her heels. They run a lap around the living room furniture.

“Peter, leave your sister alone, she needs to eat her—aaaaand they’re already in the yard,” Tony sighs. He and Pepper seem to give up, bringing their own plates and the so far unused plates of Peter and Morgan to the table. MJ follows suit, placing herself an empty chair between the two table heads.

“I swear to god, they’re normal, like, ninety percent of the time.” Tony pauses. “Eighty-five. Solid eighty percent.”

“Did you…?” MJ feels awkward asking about it, but maybe it’s something Peter hasn’t told her yet, something she wasn’t supposed to know that just slipped out. Tony said—he called Morgan Peter’s sister. “Is there something I should know?”

Both Tony and Pepper look at Michelle like she’s not making any sense.

“What you said—that Morgan is Peter’s sister, it’s just—I can keep a secret! I just didn’t know he was, you know. Yours.“

“He wishes,” Pepper snorts into her ice water.

Tony’s responding smile is far too wide.

“I keep asking May for partial custody, but she just won’t budge!” He snaps his fingers in a very exaggerated, aw, shucks way. Pepper and Tony both laugh.

“Ah,” she lets out, embarrassed to have even had the thought that Peter might be Tony’s secret child or something, picking at her pizza toppings to avoid looking at the Starks.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Pepper pats her arm comfortingly. “Before the Blip there were articles with pretty similar lines of questioning. All shut down because they photographed a minor, of course.”

Pepper seems pretty proud of that, and MJ supposes she should be. People definitely would have made the Spider-Man connection sooner if Peter and Tony were in the paper together all the time.

More seriously, Tony says, “I’ve looked at the kid’s blood…more than I wish I had, honestly, but he gets injured, it happens. Anyway, yeah, no. FRIDAY would have figured that one out pretty quickly. DNA scanners and all.”

She nods, and the awkward silence thankfully only has to sit for a few more seconds before Peter bursts back into the house, Morgan wriggling around and squealing in his arms.

“I caught a wild Morguna!” Peter cheers.

“Is that the name of an actual Pokémon?” Tony asks, switching his gaze between Pepper and Michelle for an answer. “Did I accidentally nickname my kid after a battling monster thing? I only know like three of them, help me out here.”

Peter rolls his eyes, placing Morgan down with a quick tickle to her ribs that sends her flying towards the table.

“Come eat, Little Miss,” Tony commands, patting his hand on the chair to his right. Peter sits automatically to his left. “Michelle won’t want to watch a movie with you if you misbehave.”

“Do you like Disney movies?” Morgan probes, kicking her feet under the table and creating a light vibration.

Michelle shrugs. “Depends on which movie.”

Morgan squints, accessing. She nods.

“Good answer.”

Next to her under the table, Peter gives her a thumbs up, another piece of pizza already in his other hand.

The answer of where he got the food is clear as Tony shoves his other piece over to Morgan.

Pepper rolls her eyes and stands to presumably help re-fill his plate from the boxes on the counter.

Mulan was as good as MJ remembered it being when she was a kid.

Morgan seemed pretty pleased when she started mouthing along the words to I’ll Make A Man Out Of You, but less so when that prompted Peter to turn it into a dance number including the jumping kicks that almost resulted in a broken glass coffee table.

Despite their earlier nap, Michelle and Peter both find it fairly easy to fall asleep that night.

Still, it may be because of the nap that she doesn’t sleep as hard. She feels a disturbance, physically—Peter’s warmth leaves the bed, the steady pressure of his spine against her own is no longer there.

At first Michelle thinks it’s just a quick bathroom trip. Then she finds that she’s not as comfortable as she was those five minutes before without Peter because he keeps the room warm and he’s cool under the sheets (possibly because of the spider-man thing, she’s never asked).

So she waits.

She thinks about the English paper that will be her final for this semester that she only has half an idea for, and what drills AcaDec should be running for their first practice after the break, and…still no Peter.

She thinks about the pictures she spotted of Peter and Tony in the kitchen—the one of them from his internship next to one of Tony in a hospital gown, Peter on the hospital bed, his body covering Tony’s lost arm, both of them smiling with wet eyes and what it all means.

He still isn’t back yet.

She scoots over to Peter’s side of the bed and peeks her head out of the open door. There’s not even a light on in the bathroom.

Well, now she definitely has to investigate.

The cabin probably isn’t old enough for any squeaky floorboards, but she watches her step just the same, aware of every little noise in the half-dark of the night. She makes it to the stairs before she finally sees the dim glow of lights on downstairs accompanying the sound of someone talking.

“…it’s just so—messy.“

“Then explain it to me.”

She goes to her tiptoes, moving just a few steps down. On the couch she identifies the owners of the voices—the backs of Peter and Tony’s heads are silhouetted in the light of the fireplace in front of them.

“Tony…” Peter says, clearly hesitant, curling further into the couch.

“I can handle it, Pete. It’s worse for me when I don’t know what you’re going through, trust me,” Tony replies.

“I don’t even know what I’m going through,” Peter jokes, but his voice is weak, and Tony doesn’t laugh.

Peter sighs. “It was just—one thing to another. Like, I was under that building, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and then it was Titan, and I couldn’t breathe and I could feel myself—I could feel it happening and I was reaching out to you, but then you were—“

She can’t see Peter’s face, but his arm moves over his eyes, and the sleeve comes away tear-stained. He’s crying. Peter’s crying, broken, and her heart strains to do something about it, but this is—all of this is so much and she’s just overhearing it, what is she even doing?

“You were dying and I couldn’t…I heard when your heart—when you—” Peter’s words hitch into sobs, quiet and purposefully muted, like he’s scared to release them.

“Oh, buddy, no, no,” Tony brings Peter closer, his arm bundling Peter against his chest. Earlier she’d thought of what Peter might look like years from now, but now he looks smaller, younger.

The things Peter’s seen…he fought aliens in space, he was dusted and remembers it, his hero, his mentor, this man taking on Peter’s tears and pain with his whole body, his heart—another father—almost died right in front of Peter’s eyes. God, Mysterio almost put a bullet through Peter’s head for revenge—they’re still children, how can Peter handle this, how could anyone?

“Shh, I’m right here. I’m here, I’ve got you,” Tony soothes easily, like Peter is Morgan, just another one of his children seeking comfort.

“It’s okay, Pete. Everyone is okay. Just let it out, you’re okay.” Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s head, rubbing Peter’s back, so gentle, so soft, so unlike anything the world has ever shown her about Tony Stark, something precious and kind.

Something saved only for Peter, for his family.

Michelle sits at the top of the stairs for too long.

Too long thinking of every epic story Peter’s ever told about Spider-Man—the bruises he brushes off, the cuts and scrapes that he can hide away within a day, all of the times that he wins, the failures glided over as footnotes to a success story.

There’s so much she doesn’t know.

She knew he carried guilt, responsibility, but never this. This is a raw, deep wound of loss. It’s a fear scraping at him in the dark that he hides in the light. That he hides from everyone. From her.

Peter is curling into Tony for that comfort instead, burying his fears and worries into the man who brought him into all of this. If there’s anyone that could understand, of course it would be Tony.

She doesn’t know what do to with this knowing of everything she doesn’t. These are things she’s scared to know, things she wants to know anyway because they’re a part of Peter, and she wants more of him despite the sensical parts of her brain that scream for her to run off to California for college and leave dating a literal superhero that regularly risks his own life behind.

As Peter’s tears start to taper off, she stands from her place on the stairs, tip-toeing her way back up to Peter’s bedroom just as quietly as she came, leaving Tony's final whisper of, “I love you, it’s okay,” behind her.

She lies down, bringing the covers that smell of Peter's body wash up to her neck, the familiar scent comforting.

She only falls back asleep as the first dregs of sunshine begin to peek through Peter’s blinds.

Peter doesn’t come back to bed.

Unlike the day before, Thanksgiving morning is a quiet affair. A fog seems to have fallen overnight, leaving the outside of the cabin wet and hazy, matching her mood after the night before.

MJ wakes lightly a few times: the scent of coffee hits her nose, a high-pitched giggle echoes from Morgan in the hall, the sounds of doors opening and closing downstairs break the spell on and off.

If Peter enters the room to get dressed, he doesn’t wake her. She’s not sure if she wants him to or not.

There’s this—knot, buried right in the middle of her chest. Guilt for watching a private moment. Disappointed that she hadn’t thought about it sooner, that she’d let herself accept his constant assurances that he was fine, that there was nothing for her to worry about beyond the norm.

It’s Happy that ends up waking her.

“Knock, knock,” he announces, pulling open the already cracked door. Michelle doesn’t think she’s ever seen him out of a suit before now—usually he’s playing driver for them after school or hovering around Peter and May’s place, something Peter’s only become minimally more comfortable with since May and Happy's dating-ish-thing started. He’s picked a dress shirt and dark jeans instead. Not far from casually formal, but still…weird.

“Morning,” she announces from her blanket bundle, sulky and comfortable.

His eyebrow raises, wrinkling his balding hairline. “Do I wanna know?”

She shrugs.

“Okay, well, Tony and the other kids are making breakfast. Doesn’t seem like your thing, missing out on good food.”

“Are you fat-shaming a growing teenage girl?” She raises an eyebrow, her face dead serious and her tone purposefully instigating.

“Of course not, why would you—“ he catches on quickly, used to her tricks by now, her jokes that aren’t jokes. His lips hint at a smile under his goatee. “Very funny, kid.”

“I thought so.” She smiles.

“Food in ten,” Happy reiterates, turning around to shut the door.

“Happy—wait,” MJ calls, hesitant. He looks back at her expectantly, but she isn’t sure what to say without saying everything, her emotions caught in her throat.

“You—Peter’s worked with you for a while, right?”

She sits up from under the covers, ignoring the borrowed t-shirt of Peter’s hanging off of her frame and the messy wrap containing her curls. This is Peter’s family, in a way, and Happy saw her unhinged and wielding a mace back in Europe. Surely they’re at the point of being able to ignore things like appropriate dress, or whatever.

Her hands end up wringing themselves together. She’s unsure where to look—the whole room is a reminder of Peter, a collage of all the different parts—the hero, the boy, the growing man.

Happy’s facial expression questions the non-sequitur, but he redirects to Peter’s bed anyway, situating himself comfortably, probably realizing this isn’t just about what she’s asking.

“Working with, not so much. Looking after his scrawny ass…” He nudges her with his shoulder, but she doesn’t brighten up much, so he sobers.

“In the beginning, I spent a lot of time ignoring him when he needed me the most. Tony and I both did, and we both regretted it. After the Vulture, things changed. I listened to every asinine voicemail, Tony instituted lab time every other weekend…”

Happy clears his throat, his eyes honest. “Don’t tell him this, but after we lost him, I spent so much time wishing I hadn’t missed a minute of it. I kept wishing I could get him back, listen to him babble about his nerdy crap in the back of the car for just one more hour. Stupid stuff.”

“But then he came back,” she supplies.

He nods. “Then he came back. Tony was out of commission, and I promised myself that I wasn’t ever going to miss another call, even if it was just the kid rattling my ear off about free churros or a dress that he thought looked nice on you at school that day.” At the ending comment, he bumps a hand at her leg, emphasizing.

“Ugh,” she groans, but puts a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Happy doesn’t appear fooled.

“What’s this about, Michelle?” he asks, meeting her eyes.

She sighs, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bed’s headboard.

“It’s just—after everything that’s happened, after everything you’ve seen him go through…do you think—is Peter okay?”

Something dawns on Happy’s face, followed by a somber kind of smile.

“If you ask me, the people that choose to do this kind of thing—these hero types…none of ‘em are anything close to okay. I mean, you’ve seen the kind of stuff they’re up against first hand. Weird tech, magic, aliens…it doesn’t exactly scream mental stability if you’re going towards that kind of danger.”

It’s not meant to be comforting, and he doesn’t say it as such. It’s just a fact: normal people don’t put on suits and fight bad guys and come out on the other side unscathed. That’s why so few ever do it, powers aside.

“But it does speak to a lot of heart. People didn’t understand that about Tony, when he started: you have to care about people a whole hell of a lot to want to keep saving their ungrateful asses over and over again.”

“I know that Peter cares—and I love that about him!” She blushes at the heated admission, but Happy seems content to let it go with only a kind smile. “It’s just—I didn’t realize how hard it must be on him. He doesn’t tell me how hard it is. I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to him?” Happy suggests with dry condescension.

She frowns at him, because very clearly she’s not there yet, which is why she’s talking to him.

“I had to try,” he sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to see someone like him going through all of this. It’s even harder when they don’t admit things are tough. Sometimes it’s just—there’s not much that you can do. We sit on the sidelines, we pitch in where we can, and when they do need us…”

He trails off, looking out Peter’s window. The lake ripples with a light rain.

“When they do need us, we show up. We show up and tell them how stupid they are for acting tough. We’re there when it matters, even when they’re being stubborn and telling us to go.”

Happy shrugs. “Well, that’s always been my tactic, anyway.”

MJ shrugs back, biting her lip. “It’s not the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

“Tony?” he questions.

“Captain America. Those pre-recorded seminars make you want a big bag of weed more than any college stoner alive.”

Happy actually does laugh at that, patting her knee over Peter’s comforter.

“You two are good together. And I’m not just saying that cause I’m romantic or something—though I did know Pepper and Tony would be perfect together before anyone else, and you can quote me on that.” He points his finger at her, dead serious. Clearly that’s a regular argument at the Stark family get-togethers.

“He’s not going to get lost in this alone. He has too many people on his side for that. But if you need him to be more honest, you’re probably going to have to ask for it. Multiple times. Explicitly. These geniuses have concrete skulls protecting all of that brain matter.” He taps against his own head for effect.

“Yeah, I—thanks, Happy.”

“No problem,” he replies. Then he groans as he lifts himself from the bed, standing. “Now get up, or Morgan’s going to hog all of the syrup. Tony’s not above stealing from her syrup pool, but I personally think it’s an abomination.”

Despite the quiet morning, downstairs is filled with activity once she arrives, her floral dress toned down by one of her favorite grandpa sweaters, grey and a little garish.

Happy arrived with James Rhodes, apparently, as the Colonel is currently swinging Morgan around the living room like it’s a playground. Pepper and Happy are involved in something at the stove, crowded together and bickering about whatever they’re attempting not to burn. Tony is absent at the moment (out feeding their alpaca, maybe,) but Peter’s gaze finds her from his place at the counter where he’s seemingly just stealing bits of fruit out of a bowl instead of contributing.

His smile makes her feel floaty, like the department store dress and thrift store sweater are something more elegant, something he’s revering from across the room. She has value outside of his opinion, yes, but she likes his stuttering compliments, the bloom of pink on his cheeks, the tentative hand he links into her own.

Michelle likes him, might even love him one day, and she wants to get past all of this business where she’s torn up about his other life as a superhero and get back to his eager attempts to get her to full-belly laugh, holding his hand in the hallway, sneaking chaste kisses as rewards for acing flash cards.

“Hey,” Peter says, but he looks just as pensive as she feels. Maybe he knows how she’s feeling, senses it with his weird tingle-thing.

“Hey.”

They end up breaking the following silence at the same time.

“Peter, I—“

“Can we—“

She tilts her head to the porch, smiling. They’re both kind of ridiculous. “Outside?”

Peter situates himself on the porch’s bannister, swinging his legs from his perch. She chooses to lean on the wood next to him.

She’s trying to prepare exactly what she wants to say when Peter says, “I know that you were there last night. I know you heard…well, everything.”

Michelle’s eyes go wide, turning to him apologetically. Of course, his super senses. He probably heard her heartbeat.

“I really didn’t mean to pry, you just didn’t come back to bed and when I overheard you were clearly so upset and—“

“It’s okay, MJ.”

“Is it, though?” she asks curtly. “Because it didn’t seem like that was the first time something like that’s happened.”

He looks away. “It’s not.”

She nudges his side with her own, swaying him on his ledge a little.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault, bringing everything up like I did.”

“M, no, that’s not—“

She holds up a hand, asking for his silence.

“I just feel like I kept…pushing. You don’t really talk about all of this—Tony, the battle with Thanos, everything that made you want to become Spider-Man. And I realized I never really asked, either.”

She knows that she doesn’t have to take this burden on for him, but she wants him to know she’s listening, that she cares.

“I mean—Tony Stark is kind of your dad, dude! And I had no idea.”

Peter laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. He also doesn’t deny it.

“It just…it made me feel like a crappy girlfriend, ‘cause I never thought about how all of that felt for you. That’s all.”

“You’re not a crappy girlfriend,” he replies, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “Just ask Mister Stark—for all that I like talking, telling people about my problems…” He shakes his head in distaste. “I hate it. It feels like I’m just complaining.”

“Well, I personally love complaining, and would love to hear you do it more,” she says.

He lets out a breath of a laugh through his nose, but he sobers again, keeping hold of her hand and squeezing.

“The stuff with Tony…it can be hard to talk about him without mentioning everything that got us here. It’s easier to let people think what they want to.”

MJ nods, understanding. Tony has been a public figure for his entire life. It makes sense that he’s pretty insular about the people that he considers family. Anyone important can be a liability—at least, she knows that Peter also tends to see it that way.

“It’s cute that you care about my relationship with him so much, though. I didn’t realize you were so protective,” Peter teases, hopping off of the ledge and onto the porch next to her.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles, swaying their still-attached hands between them.

“Yeah, yeah,” he hums, smile wide across his face. He’s used to the parts of her that go hot and cold, and takes them in stride.

It feels good to have this out in the open, a previously closed door now tentatively cracked and inviting her in. It's a step closer, she thinks. A step closer to him and his world, this family he's made for himself.

A familiar look overtakes his face, and she feels a rush of warmth in her veins.

When they kiss—really kiss—it’s always tentative, a silent game of question and answer.

Peter inches closer, slow enough that she could turn away if she wanted. (She never does.)

Michelle tilts her head, reaffirming his desire. Are you sure? (He always is, his confidence always so much easier than hers.)

Together they take the final step, their movements more confident now as they’re slowly gaining practice. The slight difference of height between them often means she catches his top lip and his hands have a way of snaking around her waist, pulling them closer.

A wolf-whistle breaks them apart abruptly.

It’s Tony, walking over from what appears to be a barn not far from the lakeside, a teasing caught-the-canary smile in place.

“Well, well, look at you two,” he says, working his way up the steps with a little more pep than the day before.

“Please don’t start,” Peter begs, shrugging off the metal hand that immediately goes to ruffle his hair.

“Hey, you’re lucky it was just me. Rhodey has a real hard-on for breaking up PDA.”

“Please never say hard-on again in my presence.”

“Say it in mine,” Michelle interrupts. “I want it on camera.”

“I mean, I’m sure it already is if you look hard enough.”

Peter groans.

“I’ve never hidden my past from you, Pete. Now, Morgan—I’m hiding as much as possible from her internet searches until she’s at least sixteen.”

“I personally love the old flip-phone one of you drunkenly dancing on a bar-top to Toxic.”

“Oh, yeah! I actually remember that. Nice girl, Miss Spears.”

“I regret introducing you two,” Peter sighs, pouting.

“Love you too, kiddo,” Tony replies, opening the door ahead of them. “Now, c’mon. Happy’s going to deep-fry the turkey and you gotta watch. It’s some real Food Network shit.”

“Mommy! Daddy said your word again!” comes Morgan’s call from the living room area.

Peter shrugs to her, a smile on his face like he’s apologizing for getting her involved in all this.

She takes his hand again, giving it a squeeze before following him back into the Starks’ lake house and shutting the door.

#irondad #spiderson #spideychelle #ironfam #peter-stank #friendly-neighborhood-exchange #marvel #my writing

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atomicfilm · 4 years

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What are some potential pitfalls in an ISTJ parent - INTP child relationship?

I don’t have a lot of personal experience with ISTJs and ESTJs, as I don’t naturally gravitate towards them, but I’ll try my best!

(I’m assuming you’re the ISTJ parent.)

TL:DR Biggest issues: emotional distance, discipline, authoritarianism, stubbornness from both parties.

ISTJ is The “Man”, INTP is The Rebel.

Please continue to read, because I do, in fact, offer suggestions.

General

First off, parent-child relationships can have a lot of turmoil regardless of type. If your child is older, particularly in middle school and high school and you feel like they’re acting out, really the best thing you can do is be open and honest with them. Tell them that you love them and you’re having a difficult time understanding their behavior. Don’t blame anyone when you say this. Don’t criticize them. At all. Or you will shut them out more. Communication is at the heart of every relationship. It’s quite possible that if this is your situation that they are upset and don’t know how to come to you with problems. I was so moody in middle school and my mom sometimes drags me for it, but it was because I was being bullied, anxious, and coming to terms with my identity. I didn’t know how to talk to my mom about basic things and that was because she never offered to talk nor did she ever talk to her mom herself.

Now we have a much healthier relationship and it’s because we started talking to each other about what we expect from one another and started sharing our more personal stories. I’m so thankful for that change, even if at first it did involve some yelling. (Hopefully, other people can avoid that.)

Accept them. Allow them to talk. Don’t scold them when they come to you. Ask them questions and if they don’t want to answer then wait for them to be ready to come to you. It’s better that they’re being honest and seeking help.

Also, provide them with what they need. Whether that’s tampons, birth control, therapy, whatever it is that could affect their health. If there are fiscal issues, look for solutions together.

INTP specific

Overview:

J vs. P: Ahh! Judgers, in general, don’t like Perceivers because our style of approaching problems is so different. Where a Judger might try to come up with a bulleted list of how to proceed, Perceivers usually look for a starting point and the rest of the plan is flexible. Judger’s also tend to be less spontaneous and more precise. My best friend is an ISFJ and my boyfriend is an INTJ, they both like to complain about how I’m easily distracted, distracting, and always jumping from one thing to the next. But what I really love about Judger’s is that they’re grounding. They have a certain intensity to them that helps me to focus. They’re usually also great at explaining things thoroughly, whereas, I tend to not follow a linear train of thought, even if I’m giving an in-depth explanation. I’m not a detail-oriented person and sometimes I think people get weighed down by them, but I still think it can be a beautiful trait to have as well.

We have our differences! They work great together if you recognize that and don’t put too much pressure on them to change. Your INTP might need you to tell them to remind them about their homework that’s due every once in a while (but don’t be a helicopter parent, please). They might need you to walk them through a math problem or get them a tutor. Don’t ignore that. But also, embrace it when they don’t want to stay on schedule (life might be more fun) and if you’re trying to solve something, their Ti-Ne will generate many logical solvencies, they just need you to help eliminate some. Essentially, don’t pressure them, do guide them. Both of you should be mature and understand what you want. If they complain, listen. If they don’t listen when you complain, ask them politely.

My mom was always like “eh, you have A’s, you don’t need help from me”. I struggled so, so much with stress and being the “ideal child”. It’s too late now (I’m accepted into college), but I wish she would have asked me if I was having trouble at school, rather than completely ignore me because I’m smart. We did recently have a conversation about how I needed to skip a day of school for my mental health and she was very accepting of that. I was having a really difficult time because of personal issues that I won’t disclose but little things mean so much to INTPs.

Your kid is going to do things one way or another if they have a lot of willpower. The only thing you can truly control is whether or not they resent you. But for certain things, like arguing against them becoming substance abusers, you have science on your side and it’s no secret that INTPs love science.

S vs. N:

ISTJs are usually much more traditional than INTPs. INTPs are very specific to themselves, so much so that saying they’re “unconventional” is an injustice. They’re on a scale of their own. Sorry in advance, but you are raising a baby alien. And they probably feel like that too. Intuitives are stereotypically visionaries, sensors are stereotypically conservative (with the exception of xSxPs). Honestly, I don’t think it matters at all that you’re a sensor. Just try not to bog them down with too many details, again, or force them into doing things your way all the time.

INTPs are so independent, I really can’t imagine that bossing them around will work in your favor. I’m lucky because my mom’s an INFP and she likes me to lead, but ISTJs tend to be leaders too, so there could be a lot of clashing in terms of power. My best advice is to let them do their own thing as much as possible without trying to fit them into a mold. If you need to discipline them, try to use positive affirmations if they respond to them.

My mom jokes that my ISTJ grandma is afraid of me because I’m the only person she’s ever met who won’t obey her. Yelling doesn’t work on me.

Also, don’t ask them to make too many of your decisions for you either. Not to be emo, but we want to be loners. My issue with my own mother is that she expects me to do things like work out the legalities of her land deeds and do her taxes. I’m 17! I don’t want to think about those things until I’m a little older. But if an INTP sees you struggling, we’re softies who love to help, so our nature will likely kick in anyways.

Cognitive Functions:

INTP - Ti-Ne-Si-Fe

ISTJ - Si-Te-Fi-Ne

We share introverted sensing and extraverted intuition! A great start.

Si: ISTJs have it as their primary function. Having sensing first is fantastic if you love to socialize. INTPs tend to be antisocial (whoops) at least with people they don’t know well. This could be a conflict if you expect them to go to a lot of events like work parties that they don’t want to attend. They’ll probably throw a fit if you press them enough. However, since you’re both introverts, you probably understand that they want to crawl into a small, dark space by themselves for a while instead. If they don’t want to go to your events, tell them to invite a close friend over instead. Maybe once a week. They do need to socialize, even if they don’t want to. Just expect their threshold to be lower than yours.

What’s good about it? We both like to compare/contrast our memories with current events. We both remember a lot of details about people/things we find significant. We both need a routine (but try to mix it up slightly for INTPs because we need stimulation as much as we like comfort). We both are practical and fact-oriented.

Your INTP probably highly respects you. That’s the most important part. I find Si to be overwhelming if someone only talks about other people and their experience with them. Simply because I don’t care enough what Sally did on June 15, 1983 if it’s not immediately relevant.

INTPs hate small talk. With a burning passion. When I meet people I immediately talk to them about their hopes, dreams, theories, favorite historical periods, inside jokes, ect. Not about what they ate for breakfast. We have high standards for entertainment.

Ti vs Te:

Ti is like “let’s interpret what’s happening internally”. Te is more like “hey, let’s categorize what’s happening externally as objectively as possible”. INTPs are heavily invested in fixing themselves if you haven’t heard. They want to be the ultimate human and then inspire people from that point. Te users tend to be obsessed with fixing the world first. That’s not to say INTPs and ISTJs won’t share common ground, however. We can definitely rant to you about why that bike rack should be in a different place or how the political system is corrupt.

However, first and foremost, we’ll silently be analyzing all of our own issues and try to solve them. On our own. This is our fatal flaw and best asset. You probably only see it as their best asset. It only works for so long before we become so stressed we may combust. Your INTP may be deeply insecure, even if they come off as confident. So remind them frequently that you admire them and it’s okay for them to ask you for help.

We’re perfectionists. Try to discourage that early on. No one needs to be perfect. That’s way too much pressure to put on anybody.

Ti is very critical and reflective, making it really good for debate and self-improvement. But it’s soul-crushing if it’s turned too far towards inwards.

Think of Ti as having anxiety. When it’s negative, you think about everything you’ve ever done wrong, over and over, until you have a solution. On the flip side, Ti users ponder proactively a lot too and come up with creative theories.

So going off of that, your INTP may be feeling so insecure or confused that they take it out on you. Talk to them. Work out what’s going on in their head externally. It may prove helpful.

Te-users are also sometimes more managerial. Let your INTP go with the flow.

And finally, Te-users can be on the colder side with their affections. If you think parents shouldn’t shower their children with affection, throw that thought away. Tell your kid you think they’re smart and you love them. Give them a hug if that’s something they’re comfortable with. Like everyone deep down, we need affirmation!

Fi vs. Fe:

YIKES. Fi is the killer of INTPs everywhere.

Well, ISTJs don’t emote too much. Which is both good and bad. It’s good because INTPs don’t respect emotional people very often. It’s bad because you’re a parent and a human, not a robot.

What I’ve noticed is that ISTJs typically yell when they’re upset but are less giving when it comes to affection. That’s obviously not a good combination.

Don’t practice tough love. That’s garbage. Absolute garbage. If you find yourself saying frequently “they’ll thank me later” you probably are just trying to justify doing something harmful. Children need to be nurtured! Not pushed around. Sometimes they do need more discipline but INTPs don’t respond well to authority, so again, you’ll probably hurt your relationship more than you’ll gain anything else.

Try to avoid escalating arguments into spitting matches. If you’re feeling hot-headed, leave the conversation. I bet your INTP already did. Then come back later and try to resolve it when you’re less angry. This overlaps with the difference between Te-Ti a bit too.

INTPs bottle their emotions for prolonged periods and then spill them all at once. Encourage them to share with you or another trusted figure more often. Otherwise, you’ll see the worst side of your INTP much more than you need to.

INTP’s Fe means that we want to please you. We want a harmonious environment. If we can’t figure out how to get it, we’ll look for a new environment. We usually try to understand your emotions even if they’re kind of foreign to us. Fi from our perspective is like “LOOK AT ME I’M SAD LOOK AT ME RIGHT NOW SEE ME CRY HELLO PAY ATTENTION TO ME”. Yes, that was exaggerated. But that’s what it looks like to us. It appears selfish and explosive. Do what you can to tone it down.

You’ll win us over with compelling logic, not necessarily pathos.

Ne: Ne is the best. Hands down. Ne is my favorite thing ever. It’s how I communicate on a daily basis. It’s unfortunate that it’s so low in the ISTJ stack because I rarely see it. But honestly, it saves the relationship in my opinion. I have very little in common with that ISTJ grandmother I mentioned but what do we have in common? She watches a lot of movies and I’m going to be a film major.

So instead of using that Ne to generate a lot of small talk and gossip, which is one of my largest problems with ISTJs, use it to generate conversations about your common interests.

Afterword:

Your INTP is likely going to be nothing like you and that’s okay. It’s amazing that you’ve raised an entire human being and even more beautiful that they’re not a mass-produced model of their parents. It will likely be a rocky road but I’m sure they love you so much. They just might not feel safe in expressing it. Which is sad, yes, but not a reason to give up.

I’d like to add that I actually really like my ISTJ grandmother (my mother does not, because she had to be raised by her and my grandmother is very domineering to most people).

Here are some reasons why I love her:

- She’s so good with physical projects. She loves to bake, she loves to scrapbook, she loves to knit. In that regard, she’s awesome! She’s the ideal grandma and she has a lot to teach me. I’m not a physical person at all and she’s helped to balance me out a bit. I can’t knit, but I can cook, and I definitely didn’t learn that from anyone else.

- She’s funny! She has an amazing sense of humor and her eyes get all bright and shiny when she’s happy.

- We have similar political beliefs even if she’s much more traditional than I am. She’s actually the only person in my family I like to talk to about current events. She’s lived through so many and she actually pays attention. In this case, being detailed-oriented helps her a lot.

- She’s good at decision-making and I can be indecisive.

- She’s very honest to me at least. I like to ask her about family history and her own beliefs and that’s interesting. She’s the only person who cares about genealogy and the only person who knows anything about my great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents.

- She loves me.

You will be fine. Just don’t be judgy and bossy.

I hope this helps! Feel free to ask me for more advice.

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lostinreality014 · 4 years

Text

#ThinkPositive2019: 2019 Highlights

2019 GENERAL HIGHLIGHTS

Visited Susie in Colorado again this summer for vacation

We hiked Deer Creek Canyon and Red Rocks and I lived to tell the tale

If you know me and some of my previous outdoor adventures this is an accomplishment

Got to see family I rarely get to see over Christmas

Have had 5 of my photographs digitally featured in gallery exhibitions around the world:

Athens, Greece

Helexpo-Thessaloniki, Greece

Barcelona, Spain

Melbourne, Australia

Completed my 4th full year of my #ThinkPositive exercise

Got through the second phase of recovery from the herniated disc in my neck

Started working out with a personal trainer once a week in place of my physical therapy to keep working on building strength in my neck, back, and shoulders to hopefully prevent another herniated disc.

2019 WORK RELATED HIGHLIGHTS

I secured several large 5 and 6 figure grants for the opera

Made it through another insane Festival season

I survived (and am still surviving) months of mental and verbal abuse from my boss and also survived/am surviving a ridiculously toxic work environment

Yes I have spoken up and out about it

Yes I am still fighting it

Yes I am actively working toward removing myself from this situation

2019 MUSIC RELATED HIGHLIGHTS

Harry Styles

Dropping His second album, Fine Line

Fine Line debuting at #1 in the US

Earned last #1 album in the US of 2019

Earned first #1 album in the US of 2020

Getting to see Harry at his Fine Line album launch at The Forum with one of my best friends

Watched Harry and Stevie Nicks sing Landslide together - yes I completely lost my shit

Watched Harry kick ass as Host and Musical guest on SNL

Securing tickets to the Love on Tour Dallas, Denver, and ****** shows (Third city to be named at a later time)

Niall Horan

Released two new singles

Nice to Meet Ya

Put a Little Love On Me

Dropped music videos for both singles

Was musical guest on SNL and kicked ass

Louis Tomlinson

Released new singles

Announced his debut solo album will drop January 2020

Announced his debut solo tour

Secured tickets to see Louis July 2020

OneRepublic

Dropped several new singles this year

Saw them in perform with the Colorado Symphony at Red Rocks - that was mind blowing

Saw them in concert at the Soccer Hall of Fame Induction Celebration

Announced they’ll be releasing new music and touring in 2020

One Ok Rock

Dropped a new album - Eye of the Storm

Finally saw them live and I’m still mind blown

Will never be over how incredible Taka is live - it’s life changing

5SOS

Dropped a couple new singles and videos for each

Easier

Teeth

Saw them on the WWJ tour on Halloween and I still haven’t recovered from Michael dressing as Luke or hearing Teeth live

Adam Pascal

FINALLY got to see him sing live

He opened his set with an acoustic performance of One Song Glory

He strummed the first cords of the song and I doubled over in my chair and internally screamed “OH HOLY SHIT THIS IS HAPPENING!” then proceeded to cry through the entirety of his set

Kristin Chenoweth

FINALLY got to see this incredible woman perform live

4th time is the charm in this case

She made me sob like a baby and I love her for it

Green Day

Announced a new album is dropping February 2020

Announced a summer 2020 tour with Weezer and Fallout Boy - I’m still screaming about it

Securing tickets to see Green Day with Weezer and Fallout Boy

Foy Vance

Released more new music

Announced another US tour

Secured tickets to see Foy February 2020

Maren Morris

Dropped her second album, GIRL

Other 2019 Concert Highlights

Queen + Adam Lambert

Kelly Clarkson

Hozier

Ben Platt

Shawn Mendes

Kelli O'Hara

Amber P. Riley

#ThinkPositive2019 #Positivity #Positive Thinking #ThinkPositive Year End Highlights

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nickiplague · 5 years

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Truth Inconceivable - Artistic Genius ch. 8

Hey there! Humble author here leaving an offering of a story! *cough cough* Uh…long time no read, huh? I'm soo sorry for this stupid long wait, but here is the next installment! I had a sorta semi-collaboration with my pal ReaperJ borrowed his portrayal of a character in here from his story..."Scarred For Life" it is a kinda peek at a prequel character. He helped write for how his character would behave and helped get this chapter FINALLY up. Don't know when the next after this will be coming, but yeah…please attempt to enjoy this and have a lovely day…forgive me! If you like this please review! By the way, can anyone else find my other chapters? I'm not sure it they just vanished period, can no longer be searched, or what...

As we were guided down the hall to another room several people were whispering amongst themselves about whatever they wanted I tried to talk to Mabel but she just looked down and ignored me. We came to a stop at a room that had several tables and chairs with crayons at one, finger paints at another, and watercolors at a table right by an observation area.

It looked as though there were different things at each table, but I was distracted by raised voices ahead of us as one of the guys I hadn't met was holding up the line and looking reluctant to enter the room.

“I’m… I’m not ready… please don’t send me… in there…!” I glanced at Joey who was shaking his head with a pained expression. I looked back to the front, poor guy looked as if he was gonna break down.

“Com’on kid, doc’s orders. This happens every time you have to come to art class, there isn’t anything in there for you to hurt anyone with, NOW GET IN!?” The young man was shoved into the room as everybody filed in.

He just stood there looking all around the room as he started to sweat and shake. I couldn't help but notice his expression, an animal trapped with nowhere to go. We all filed in slowly after that spectacle was over, I didn't expect anything quite so… crazy… yeah my bad, I'm being stupid now.

Getting a better look from the guy earlier, he looked about fourteen and Hispanic. All he did was keep his eyes on the table not moving or saying anything, seemed like no one wanted to sit with him.

“Hey, Joey… what’s his deal?” I point over to the kid, I think he was in one of the rooms closest to the end of the hall...

“Him? Look… I don’t have anything bad to say about the guy, just keep your distance. Marco only talks to his mother and some chick that visits him every week.”

“Is he violent or something?”

“Drop it man, you don’t need to know everyone’s history that’s in here…”

“…okay…” He led me and Mabel to the table right by the guy, Everyone else had claimed the other tables and there wasn't room for all five of us.

One of the orderlies got everyone's attention, “Alright then. Let's all have a calm, peaceful time here in art therapy. Remember, just express yourself. Let your feelings flow onto the page. Stephanie, please refrain from covering yourself in paint.” With a strained smile he backed up into the observation room and, seemingly forgetting the wall and door were glass, slumped in defeat against the door.

“It’s just finger paint… it’s just finger paint… it’s just finger paint…” As Marco muttered, barely audible, his finger hovered over the red paint. He wrinkled his nose as if smelling something foul, looking as though he was gonna gag.

“No… stop it…” He was still muttering, but Joey jabbed me in the gut and said to stop staring. Glancing around I could see that everyone else in the room was already working on their projects paying no mind to him.

Mabel actually had a pretty big smile on her face for the first time that morning. She was talking to the guys about her crafts she did back home and in Gravity Falls and complaining about the lack of glitter.

“Hey Dip, aren't ya gonna get started? If ya don't you're gonna get a Mabel original made for you instead!” Mabel reached 'threateningly’ towards my paper with pink and green stained hands.

“I'm getting to it! Ha,” I reached for some paint and choosing at random and just making generic yellow shapes. “I need to find my inspiration, I'm not an artistic genius like you Mabes!”

A moment later someone else plopped down beside Mabel, “I…like your style…chaotic with just…the slightest touch of…order…” The infamous Stomper had shoved in between Mabel and Sammy, further crowding our table. “I'm Stephanie…self-proclaimed…artistic genius heh…our kind are…a little…rare, huh?” She reached out a hand that was coated already in at least five different colors.

Mabel froze when Stephanie forced herself in, but after a second she was grinning again and without anymore hesitation shook Stephanie's hand. So brave. Mabel, so brave. “Oh uh hi! I don't know if I'm an artistic genius, buuuut I do love making things! I've made hundreds of sweaters! And I am definitely a glitter…a…a fish…innuendo? Yeah! A fish innuendo!” It took all my willpower not to face palm with my hand of paint.

I glanced to the side to see Marco looking down at his hands covered in red paint. His face was glazed over as his fingers began to jab at the canvas, “Just…just express yourself, huh? Let your feelings flow onto the page? Yeah…let’s do that!”

“Oh shit…he’s doing it again…” Joey was working on his project and kept an eye on Marco.

“Huh…what’s going?” Is Marco…okay? Is he smiling now? He looked like he was going to fall apart a minute ago…

“You’re not going to let up, are you?” Joey points out Marco's canvas for me to look at.

“It just looks like a mess- wait…is…is he drawing a body…?” What was with that?

“Looks like that right now, just give it a few more minutes…”

Glancing back at my own paper I suddenly realized I was painting a particular triangular psychopath…maybe not in as much detail, but there weren't too many thoughts in mind when it came to yellow triangles…

“Oh yeah dude, you hungry too? I love nachos. Been a while since we had any decent nachos, right Sammy?” Miguel was leaning over the table looking at my paper. “Hey! Yeah nachos are bomb, man! I think I heard Marco talking to one of the shrinks about making awesome nachos before…wonder how good he is at that…” Sammy had moved as far as he could away from 'the stomper’ and gotten on with his…was that a walrus with a top hat…? Okay then…

“Just a little more over here… yeah, yeah just like that…” Glancing over I could see Marco adding more red to create shadows and contrast his artwork.

.”Dip, I think I'm enjoying this a little…that's weird huh? Hahaha! Now quit staring like a weirdo and get back to painting…” Mabel had glanced down to my page, seeing the many yellow triangles and not being fooled for a second. “Oh…Bill huh? You okay bro-bro?”

“Oh uh-” A female orderly with a bright smile walked out and cleared her throat to get our attentions, effectively cutting me off.

“Alright everybody, wrap everything up if you could and leave your pieces at your seats. Do not take the supplies, you will be checked by your respective dorm managers before you leave and it will just mean suspension of privileges.” She clapped her hands and repeated the announcement once more before she gestured to colleagues in the observation room.

“No worries, just need to add my name at the bottom…there!” In the silence immediately following the announcement I heard Marco's voice and jumped looking back instinctively. He was breathing heavy, looking over the canvas and the name at the bottom…that was too long to be Marco…R…a…p…

Joey got me in my ribs this time, “Dude! If you're gonna stare, why not make it a little less obvious maybe?” He rolled his eyes and shook his head at me as I blushed at being caught…again…

I surreptitiously gestured at Marco's picture, “It’s…a tree…but it was a human body a few minutes ago?” But I can still see the body…it’s part of the tree… “Wh…why wo-” Joey motioned for me to face our table.

“That’s what he does, always starts off as a body at first and then ends with something else. He only uses red and it takes a lot out of him when he gets in that state.” I could tell that Joey felt bad for Marco, I heard him muttering about the 'damn orderlies messing with kids for kicks.’

I got up and stared at my hands for a moment, finally realizing that they were covered in paint. “Uh…what do we do about…” glancing about I saw the few who chose finger painting were headed to a corner of the room next to the observation room to a single sink.

Stephanie had instead walked up to the glass wall and begun painting on it. She was able to make a recognizable rhino in the 10 seconds it took for the flabbergasted orderly to get up and out of the room. Cursing while dragging the struggling stomper to the front of the sink line. “No! It's not finished! I barely started it!” Stephanie kept yelling while her hands were forced under the water and washed clean. When I looked back at the room the rhino had a small pig next to it and then it was Mabel's turn at the sink.

Okay so that was…a fucking long time coming…geez wait forever for that babbling trash…sorry I hope this brings you some degree of enjoyment. Don't know when the next part will come out, hopefully eventually…so sorry once again. Thanks Reaper for helping me out and letting me borrow your portrayal of...oh well might as well say the obvious, Marco. I know I wouldn't have been able to write it the way you did what capture your Marco the way you did.

By the way I have a Ko-Fi now...if you feel like it, check it out I guess? Just remove the spaces!

https:// www . ko-fi . com / nicki_plague

#truth inconceivable #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls fandom #gravity falls #my first fanfic #fanfiction.net #fanfiction #fanfic #sfw #lime

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healthandfitnessrecipes-blog · 6 years

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From “Living on Pills” to Migraine Freedom (Jan’s Migraine Miracle Story)

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=9953

Her migraines were daily, she could no longer work, and she was “living on pills” just to get by.

Then, Jan decided she’d had enough.

Audio only:

LINKS and RESOURCES mentioned:

MIGRAI-NEVERLAND, our premier resource for those who want to find their pill free path to migraine freedom (including the new Beastslayer Training Academy): mymigrainemiracle.com/endofmigraine

The Timeline of Migraine Freedom – take the QUIZ and find out what phase on the Timeline you’re on at mymigrainemiracle.com/migraine-freedom

The 7 Signs You’re Having Rebound Headaches: https://www.mymigrainemiracle.com/rebound/

DOWNLOAD THE GUIDE TO GETTING STARTED at beastslayers.com

PRIMAL PROVISIONS, our Migraine Miracle meal planning service: mymigrainemiracle.com/primalprovisions

PRIMAL PROVISIONS Pick of the Week (Roasted Leg of Lamb): http://mymigrainemiracle.com/lambleg

The Migraine Miracle Facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/migrainemiracle/

The book that started it all – The Migraine Miracle: https://www.amazon.com/Migraine-Miracle-Sugar-Free-Gluten-Free-Inflammation/dp/1608828751

EPISODE TRANSCRIPT:

– – [Dr. T] All right, welcome to another episode of the Miracle Moment, so on today’s episode I’m going to be sharing with you another migraine miracle story, this one coming from Jan Richards, and Jan is one of our Migrai-Neverland members and as you’ll soon hear, she’s coming to us all the way from Australia and she first discovered the migraine miracle by reading the book and then ultimately joining our Migrai-Neverland membership.

And as you’ll soon hear, she’s completely turned her life around in several ways and you can just hear the joy that’s in her voice, it’s still incredible and a bit magical for me to think that just by putting words on a page someone’s life half-way around the world can be transformed like this, but it just shows how valuable and precious good ideas are and how important it is to do whatever it takes to keep sharing and spreading those ideas.

And I’m certain that someone out there is going to hear Jan’s story today and will be inspired and motivated to take action so that they can then experience the same sort of transformation that she has. Also, I know that I talk about how valuable these success stories are to those of you listening for inspiring and motivating you to make big changes in your life, but I should also add that these stories are also extremely valuable to me as well and they inspire and motivate us to keep trying to get the message of the Migraine Miracle out in to the world.

Anytime you put yourself out there whether it’s in the form of a book or a podcast or a blog post. Whenever you release something like that out in the world you’re almost guaranteed to invite some criticism and haters especially some of the topics that I cover in the book and here on the podcast. Nutrition for one, as I’m sure you know, and as Jan will talk about in her interview can get people really fired up.

In fact it’s often times surprising just how controversial a topic it can be but also spreading the message that drugs may not be the best solution for migraines is not one that some folks wanted to hear or the idea that we as migrainers have the power to influence the course of our condition and aren’t just the victim of unlucky genetics that we’re powerless over is another message that’s sometimes not openly received, so, I get plenty of negativity directed my way and of course, like I said, that’s bound to happen anytime you put yourself out there but nonetheless negativity is no fun.

I’m just as human as everyone else and like every other human I’m a bit predisposed towards taking the negativity harder than the positive feedback. Additionally as you’ll hear Jan speak about, you’ll likely encounter some of this yourself if you make changes to your diet and lifestyle and especially if you try to share your thoughts on the topic with others, even if it’s with the best of intentions.

You might be met with a surprising amount of resistance and resentment, so, these are issues that all of us going down this road that’s still somewhat unconventional will have to deal with in some way, shape or form, so, learning to deal with that negativity and most importantly learning how to not let it derail you from the road you’re on is a big piece of ultimately being successful.

So, hopefully these stories will help you deal with that negativity in the same way that they help me. That’s one reason we have many of these stories right there on the homepage of mymigranemiracle.com to serve as a source of inspiration for you but also for me as well and to help remind me that this work is worth doing. That continuing to do everything I can to get this message out there is worth doing and to not let the negativity stand in the way of doing that so, to Jan and to every single one of you who has or who will take the time to share your story or to give your feedback.

I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it and also know that by doing that you’re helping this mission and you’re helping to bring this message to all of those who still need to receive it. So, thank you so much. Just as a short bit of housekeeping before we get started our next 30 day jump start challenge which is designed to get you off and running with the migraine miracle plan with a full head of steam kicks off September 15th, so, as part of the Jump Start challenge everybody in the challenge moves through the beast slayer training academy together.

And the Beast Slayer Training Academy now includes as a bonus module, our newly created menstrual migraine protocol, and you can take part in the challenge either by becoming a member of Migrai-Neverland as one benefit of membership is that you can sign up for as many challenges that we conduct as you’d like or you can sign up for it directly and to learn more just go to mymigrainemiracle.com and click on the resources link at the top and you’ll find information related to the jump start and Migrai-Neverland as well as the other resources that we have to offer.

Also, for the notes and transcripts of prior episodes of The Miracle Moment go to mymigrainemiracle.com/moment and just a final note before I get to the interview. The audio on this interview isn’t perfect however, I do have the full interview as a video with captions if you want to listen or view it that way just go to mymigrainemiracle.com/Jan. She really has a wonderful story and she’s a lovely person, so, I think you’ll find that listening to it is more than worth the effort. Okay so, without further delay, here’s my interview with Jan Richards.

So, Jan if you don’t mind kind of giving us a little bit of your back story actually maybe just first of all tell us a little bit about yourself. Who you are and where you’re from. –

[Jan] Yeah, well I live on the Sunshine Coast, I’m 59, I’ve had migraines all my life and now I am kind of what I call accidentally retired which is part of the migraine story but I’m actually really quite happy about that because now that I’m really healthy it’s wonderful being retired. – Right. – I live on my own, I live in a beautiful beach resort, it’s gorgeous with my little puppy dog. –

Fantastic. So tell us a little bit then about your history with migraines. When they kind of began and how they evolved over the years? –

[Jan] Okay, I would say I had headaches as a kid, before even I was a teenager, I recall having headaches then. When I got into my teens they got a lot worse. When I was in my early 20s I took beta blockers, like in my 20s the pills would actually control the hormonal side a little bit but I was still getting headaches like at the end of the period cycle of your thing so they actually put me on another hormone that sort of used to cover that seven day period, and I took, I literally took the pill, I know it was almost like, 20 years, without a break virtually.

Largely to control the migraines and to some extent it did. I used to get really really really bad hangovers that I think in retrospect they were probably just migraines so, like I always had them. Honestly, I never actually spoke to a doctor about them until like six years ago and I think that’s just because I’d always had them and I just thought you have a headache, you take pills.

About six years ago I was really sick. I couldn’t work particularity effectively and –

[Dr. T] Right – [Jan] I went to the doctor and it was actually the first time I’d ever talked to him about the migraines and, so, I started, I actually started a whole series of things at that time cause I realized I was pretty, in a hole and I started meditation, I started yoga, I saw a therapist and have been seeing a therapist for years and it’s been wonderful, it’s really the whole thing, the meditation, yoga, therapy really helped a lot but the other thing that the doctor did was put me on Imigran which was, I wish I had never taken one of those tablets.

So, five years after sort of starting all the meditation and everything, on one level I felt a bit better, but the rebound headaches were just unbearable and I said all the time, I was taking, I actually asked by GP if I was overtaking Imigran –

[Dr. T] Right. –

And he checked my prescriptions and he said you’re right on the boarder. I was taking I would say four or five easily a week. You only get four in a packet and I was replacing the packet at least once to twice a week and I was also taking codeine mix medications, a lot of Panadol, anything I could get my hands on. I wasn’t sleeping very well so I was taking stuff to help me sleep. I was taking stuff for my sinuses because I felt my sinuses were always not right. I was just living on pills. –

[Dr. T] Right. – [Jan] It wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all, and I actually gave up work because I couldn’t concentrate. My vision was really bad, and one day I just quit and even after that, kind of stress levels went down a lot which did help but because the rebound and the headaches just kept rolling on and all along and one day I actually called a friend said I can’t come to coffee I’ve got a migraine and she was really sick of it, and she said to me why don’t you go on this diet like my daughter done.

She used to get migraines and she doesn’t anymore and I though oh yeah right and I started looking. I just started looking. I had never thought about what I ate in terms of migraines. Other than triggers. I knew there were lots of them. So, I just started looking and because I’m a person who’s taken pills all my life and we think that we go to the doctor and the doctor fixes things I wanted to find a medical reason to do this diet and I think it took me about a day of googling various different things.

And I read heaps of stuff, I read a lot about diabetes and I read a lot about you know keto, all sorts of things cause that was the diet that her daughter was on and eventually I found your book and that was like the Sunday night and the Monday morning I got up and I called every single book store on the Sunshine Coast and none of them had it and I couldn’t read, my e-reader was broken and I can’t read an iPad because my eyes are really light sensitive but eventually I called this book store, and they had it.

So, I went up and I bought your book and read it and followed it, and that day really changed my life, it really did completely. –

[Dr. T] Wow, yeah, that’s pretty incredible that all the way across the world you’re able to find it. – [Jan] And really, you know I was thinking oh I’m gonna have to download this and read it, you know, on my Pad but I didn’t want to because I really had a lot of trouble reading on the iPad and although less so now a year down the track but yeah that’s how I got your book and I’ll actually tell you when I was reading the book I’d had migraines all my life and there was so much I didn’t know about them. There was so much in that book that it taught me. The whole thing with the balloons and all that- – [Dr. T] Right.

– Sort of thing made sense. It made it easy to understand. I think I have like a long prodrome and that also had made it difficult I think to sort of know when to take things and all that sort of stuff and when I might be just before the migraine and when it was really coming in and all that sort of stuff so, I learnt a lot from that but when I read the chapter on grains I literally went to the cupboard brought every grain I had out of the cupboard and took it to the neighbor and when I, I did, when I read the chapter on drugs I went in to my bathroom and I literally flushed them down the toilet.

[Dr. T] Wow, that’s pretty impressive. Yeah, so, you were prepared. [Jan] I had to do something if I was gonna do it and you made it sound like it would work. I think if I’d read it and then thought at the end ah, it’s a fairytale you know, or if, you know, people try to flaunt you stuff all the time. [Dr. T] Sure. [Jan] You know but I read it and I though no this is real. You know, this can work and because also over the weekend I’d read a lot about the keto diet and I sort of had thought that the whole thing sounded like a really good idea, so, you know, I was prepared mentally and by the time I read the book I was prepared to just ditch everything and do it.

I did keep the Imigran and I took two more Imigran from that day onwards. One about a week and a half in when I had a massive migraine right, so I was just sort of teetering on the edge of ketosis so, I took one then and I took one a couple of weeks later but I remember thinking neither of them did any good so, that was it, I just didn’t take them any more.

[Dr. T] Right. [Jan] And didn’t take any of the codeine drugs, didn’t take, the only thing I kept was Panadol and aspirin and these days if I have to I take that but rebound really blew my brain. The thought that I’d been giving myself these migraines for so many years. [Dr. T] Oh, yeah. [Jan] You know. [Dr. T] Yeah. [Jan] So, that was kind of a big thing too. I just didn’t want to go back in to that territory at all. [Dr. T] Yeah I totally understand. Yeah, and unfortunately as you probably know that’s a really common story. People don’t realize that, you know, that the medicines are fueling the problem and it doesn’t seem like that should be the case and you, you know, think you’re doing all you can for them and then realize I’m unwittingly fueling the process. [Jan] Yeah, and the thing is, we don’t think about what we eat really. You just eat, you know, the health department kind of says, eat your five whole grains a day, fruit and vegetables and no fats and that’s what I’m thinking. In fact, I was a carb queen, I lived on carbs. [Dr. T] Yeah. [Jan] Right, and I thought, and I was hungry every hour, you know, because you are when you eat like that. You know, my body wasn’t happy and I’d been taking for my stomach for indigestion and stuff like that. I’d been taking things like nexium and tagamet and stuff for like, 15 years, and about three weeks in to the plan I thought I don’t think I need to take this anymore and I just stopped taking it. [Dr. T] Wow, yeah. [Jan] That was the first real difference for me. My stomach just was fine. [Dr. T] Yeah, it’s pretty incredible. So many times these digestive symptoms that have been, you know, blamed on all sorts of things, whether it’s reflux or whatever just go away quickly, I mean, same thing happened to me and the same things happened to a lot of folks now and yeah, we don’t realize what the true culprit is. So, about how long ago was this that you found the book and kind of started on this journey? – [Jan] It was the 30th of January last year. [Dr. T] And so prior to that point what was kind of typical for you, how often were you, you mentioned with the Imigran like, four to five times a week. Is that kind of where you were at? [Jan] Yeah, yeah. [Dr. T] Gotcha, so, pretty close to daily headaches of some sort? [Jan] If I went four or five days without a headache, it was like, oh, I was so excited. Back then they were pretty much constant and I had a lot of yeah, sort of side symptoms that have seemed to have settled down a lot now but one of them was my vision and the light sensitivity and because I was at a computer all day every day with my work, I think that was more a big thing for me but yeah, really I had got to the point where I couldn’t work effectively which wasn’t good, it wasn’t good at all. [Dr. T] Yeah, and for those in the US Imigran is Imitrex or sumatriptan and so, you, did you, going back to your, listening to your story it sounded like things kind of went further downhill once you started on that in particular, was that in retrospect the experience? [Jan] Absolutely though that. I remember the first time I took Imigran and I was at my brother’s wedding and they’d had a long wedding out in the sun and I got this massive migraine and we had like five or six hours and then there was a long function and I, we were in Maui and I went back in to my hotel room, closed everything so it was pitch black and I took my first ever Imigran and I remember the guy said to me if it doesn’t work in two hours take another one and I took the two and I went out that night and I was fine and that’s probably the first and last time it ever worked but it did work. [Dr. T] That’s the double edged sword because you know, it so often does work initially and I remember the first time I took it. I thought like, this is miraculous, you know, and but for me too that’s kind of if I look back and reflect things went from very episodic to much more frequent over the ensuing years. [Jan] And I think that close friends say to me once they sort of knew that I had got through a lot of that you know, in the last year that they even could tell how much worse I was getting. People I worked with where you know, it was so obvious how much worse they were getting in those last five years. [Dr. T] Right, and so how are things currently this day for you as far as headaches are? [Jan] Oh, good. I was trying to think when I actually had the last headache. And I would say that that would be, it’s gotta be well over six months ago which is just awesome. [Dr. T] Yeah that’s fantastic. [Jan] Yeah, it’s like, you know, I’d worked on this from so many different angles but for me the icing on the cake really were, the going off the drugs and the diet. I think they really helped 80 percent of the effect of the whole thing. [Dr. T] Yeah, was the change in your diet initially difficult or challenging? Or were you just so ready for anything that could work you were kind of willing to do whatever it took? [Jan] Pretty much. I actually did Jenny Craig about five years ago and it really I think when you do something like that they just starve you when you actually go in to ketosis by accident so, I knew how hard that was gonna be and the first three weeks were hell. Absolutely, like I said, I had a massive migraine in the middle but I was so determined and particularly because even really quite soon there are little positive things.

Your stomach’s a little bit more, you know and I think that I was determined enough that I got through until the first three months really but also, excuse me, a lot of people I know talk about the energy burst when you, you get when get in to ketosis and I was in there, I like stayed there for around three months and I never got there. My energy levels stabilized which was good.

And from that standpoint it was good and so, I felt better, but, I didn’t have that extra energy that I sort of thought I should have and I actually did a lot of, I read a lot of books and a lot of stuff at that time, in fact I’ve got a stack of books in front of me here I actually started to put some more carbs in because I did read that some women need more carbs and stuff like that, and I thought well, I’d give anything a go, but eventually I went to my GP and said look, I’m eating this diet, I’m not getting headaches anymore and he already knew that and he was kind of like stoked that and he took down the name of the book and lots of stuff, but he did pull blood tests so, that was six months in to the diet, and the fantastic thing was everything in my blood test was brilliant, my glucose, my magnesium, absolutely everything.

[Dr. T] Yeah.

The only things he was worried about were the cholesterol and after sort of going through your stuff with him I convinced myself and probably him that that was actually a part. You know, I think even though I didn’t really get the full benefits from it to start with, I still got enough benefits from it that I was gonna keep going.

[Dr. T] Yeah, sure, and I think you make a good point to that, you know, there are kind of different types of changes in energy that you might experience. You know, some people could get, feel a boost in energy but for others it may just be, like you mentioned, a stabilization where, you know, you’re off the, it’s no longer the ups and downs that you’re used to and really like, that’s a weapon against it, stability of any kind is a weapon against migraines, so, now you’re not keto anymore correct? [Jan] So, I don’t think I need to hang around there in keto. I think, you know I don’t have a headache. And I think I’ve found, I’ve found and it took a bit, but I think I’ve found something that suits me and I actually used my app yesterday and went through everything I ate yesterday and I just saw here when I was talking to you that I was, you know telling you the truth, and I, I’m net about 50 grams a day of carbs, the app is mixed and we work on net here so, I guess that’s probably around 70 or 80, so that’s about where I am on a daily basis and I don’t have to work hard to do that. [Dr. T] It’s still pretty low, so, yeah, that’s good and that’s you know, that’s kind of how I advise folks to do it with keto, it’s a extra tool that kind of give you a boost but in most cases it’s not something that needs to be done on the long term. It can just kind of help you get to where you want to be more quickly and you know if we wanna kind of, if we wanna kind of adopt an ancestral approach to it that’s probably a way to do it because you know, more than likely most of our wild ancestors were spending parts of the year in keto cause it’s when carbohydrate rich foods were not available and then we’re having other parts of the year where they weren’t, so, I like that as just a baseline model for overall health anyway. [Jan] Yeah, definitely. That’s kind of where I’ve stuck at and I’m comfortable with that, I don’t have to think about it too much. It just, you know, it’s just the way I eat now which is really good. [Dr. T] Right. And are you fairly active physically or? [Jan] Well, the past five years when the migraines were at their worst, basically it’s very difficult to exercise. But, I was always someone like, I had got in to the yoga. I’ve always swum, and I would like try to swim but it was never, kind of, something I could do regularly because I didn’t feel good enough at the time but now I am really getting back in to it. In fact, last year was my health year, this is my fitness year, so, I’m swimming two or three times a week, I do a yoga class a week, I do a Pilates class a week, I walk the dog a couple of times a day, so, I’m getting reasonably active now which is good. [Dr. T] Yeah, that’s excellent, and you mentioned too before when you went on the plan and you threw your, threw the medications away and you went through a difficult stretch was there anything that you did to kind of help you through? I know we have people who, we get this question a lot, cause folks you know, realize where they need to go with things but then are obviously apprehensive about the thought of enduring without the medication. Did you have any particular strategies that you used? Or did you just kind of grin and bear it? [Jan] Yeah, pretty much I just stuck it out. If I did get something that I thought could accelerate into a fair headache and I still will do this if I think, or if I have to go out or something and I’ve got sort of, a bit of a headache I do the coffee, two soluble aspirin and a hydrolyte and sit down and try doing meditation for 15 minutes or half an hour or something like that if I possibly can. That’s kind of what I have done in the last year but really if I felt that I had a headache that it was necessary to take something for. [Dr. T] Right, have you felt, do you feel like that your headaches now are more receptive to that kind of approach than they would have been a year or two ago? [Jan] Yeah! If you don’t do it very often a couple aspirin will actually work. [Dr. T] Yeah, that’s another thing that definitely a lot of people notice is that oh, that the headaches actually respond to something again, so, you know that, so that you can, you know, once you kind of get through that hump you can actually use the medicines as a tool to get you to a better place, you know. [Jan] Yeah, although, as I said I’m so aware of the whole rebound thing that I, if I don’t, if I can get away without taking anything I will. [Dr. T] Yeah, I mean, I think that’s probably, that’s always the lesson that I’m trying to convey is not that you don’t have to take anything you can’t take anything ever again but it’s just like, to appreciate, to understand what the consequences could be, so that you’re making that as an informed decision as possible. – [Jan] Absolutely. [Dr. T] Yeah, so if there’s a, if there’s anybody out there who’s listening and they’re kind of where you were, you know, a few years ago, kind of at the worst, what would you say to them or what would you have said to yourself back then? [Jan] I would have said throw the Imigran in the bin or down the toilet or something so that you can’t take it. Look, it was a long road for me. I was taking drugs from the time I was a kid you know, and I’m just talking about the medication. I don’t know, try to, I think for me a big part of it was anxiety fed in to it because I had headaches so much you know, you know you’re not performing well, you get anxious about that sort of thing, so, I think that honestly, some sort of mindfulness thing that really helped me hugely, you know, try to limit your drugs, try to get, you know, a little bit of exercise and eat what’s good for your body, that’s all I can say.

I didn’t do any of those things and you know my body loves the food it just absolutely loves it. I lost 6 kilos over six months and I’m never ever hungry. I’m never hungry. I think because the hunger use to cause so many headaches I would still have a bit of a thing in head that said oh, go on, I gotta go and eat. Which is probably not necessary all the time now but yeah, try the diet. I think the diet’s, it is a miracle. I hate to say it.

[Dr. T] This is the challenge right? This is the challenge, is the trying to not oversell it but at the same time try to convey just how transformative it can be. [Jan] Yeah, the first three weeks will be hard depending on how many carbs you’re eating. The first three weeks will be really hard. I had really bad headaches too. I mean, you just will but it’s worth it. [Dr. T] Different people have you know, different ways that they like to do things and, you know, some folks are ready to just do it all at one time whereas for others it makes sense to tackle one thing at a time and that kind of thing has to be individual. It also sounds like it’s kind of changed the way you see food and that you’ve noticed probably in more ways than just headaches kind of the way, how connected what we eat is to how we feel. That’s another one of the benefits and it’s another thing that kind of migraineurs are predisposed to be able to learn that lesson easier, pay attention because we do get this, you know, powerful connection between food and the way we feel. [Jan] Absolutely. I don’t know whether you have them over there acai bowls would be a acai berries and I convinced myself because it’s full of antioxidants and stuff like that I could give one of these a go. They’re just pure sugar pretty much! And I reckon it was ten to 15 minutes after I started to eat it I had the shakes and that night I had a prodrome. It was incredible. [Dr. T] And I can, I can reflect, think back too about how many times I ignored things like that. Not thinking that the connection between the food and how I felt was that, you know, that direct and I would say ah, that probably wasn’t true and then once I started paying more attention I realized man, this is real and it makes a difference. Do you have any parting words before we let you go? Anything else you wanted to share with the audience? Or did we cover it all? [Jan] I’d just say give it a go. Well, literally quitting my job because I couldn’t work to feeling so good. I’m 59, I reckon that in my 60’s I can be healthier than I was in my 50’s and probably my 30’s. It’s that much of a change to treat your whole body not just your head. [Dr. T] We see this over and over, you come in for the migraine relief and then you stay because it transforms everything else in your life and the way you feel and yeah. [Jan] And people see me and they say oh my god you look so much healthier than you did a year ago. You know, they can’t believe the change. I had a friend up here last week and she left, she’s getting on a plane and she said keep doing what you’re doing, you know, you’ve really changed. Even my GP, you’ve changed your health around. It’s incredible. [Dr. T] It’s very tempting I think, when you go through this and you experience all these great changes and you want to just tell everybody you know, about it and try to get them to change their ways but just sort of existing and then showing you know, people do start to notice that you’re looking healthier and that you know, that you’re more vibrant and then they, then the ones who were interested will start to ask. [Jan] I got up evangelical from the early days because I you know, I was just feeling so much better and no great expectation of ever feeling any better and I sort of started to talk about it to people, but I actually stopped doing that. Unless people ask me about it because people really object to it. They object to being, not just the being told how to eat but I actually had people walk from me in a conversation once I say light carb, they’re that negative about it. I know. [Dr. T] Yeah. What’s happened around nutrition is kind of bizarre but yeah, it’s a hot button thing, but yeah, I think for me the best language to use has been a nutrient dense whole foods diet. I don’t think anybody can argue with that as an approach, you know, and that’s all it really is. You’re just improving the nutrient quality of the food you eat.

Well, thanks again Jan, so much for joining me and for sharing your story and for doing all the hard work it’s taken and suffering to get to where you’ve been. I think Gregory made a good point in the last podcast as well in terms of like thinking about making this transition and sort of enduring the hard part to get to where you wanna be which is that in many ways migraineurs are already prepared for that because we’ve dealt with more than our fair share of pain over the years and so, you know, we kind of have developed the ability to endure this or

[Jan] Yeah, we’re tough. [Dr. T] Yeah, exactly, we are tough, like it or not we have to become that way. Alright Jan, well thanks so much for joining me.

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