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boldlyanxious · 3 years

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Detected

Marijon series

My masterlist

Prompt 1: Blue eyes | identity reveal

Marinette rushed to class after lunch in a frenzy. She had been planning for the special guest for weeks but somehow she still felt unprepared. She should have had Alya come back and help her carry all the things she needed for the presentation. She thought she had planned enough time but with the bulky box plus display boards it was slow going for the short trek back to school.

Everyone looked up from where they were already seated when Marinette opened the door. Nino must have heard her trying to turn the handle without dropping the box because he had turned the handle for her and was right there when Marinette fell through the door. He steadied her as Adrien jumped up to help her with the box.

"I'm so sorry Madame Bustier. I should have realized it would take longer to get back," Marinette said as she started setting up the display boards she had made.

"It's fine Marinette. You can take a minute to finish. I've invited Madame Mendeleiev's class to join us so they will arrive after she has taken attendance," Mme Bustier said.

By the time she had everything set up and the computer presentation loaded the students from the other class had already filed in and sat down. Marinette looked around realizing that all the seats were now filled. Alya waved her arms and made a pssst sound to get her attention. She had saved Marinette a spot. They were one row up from their usual spot, probably so Alya could get a good angle to record. She had been so excited to hear that Lois Lane and Clark Kent would be coming to their class to talk about journalism.

Marinette climbed over Alya to get in leaving Alya access to the aisle in case she needed to move around to get video. The workload to get everything organized had been a lot but it turned out to be well worth it. The journalist couple were very pleased with the set up and presentation she had made as an intro to their presentation. Marinette had realized that not everyone would have an interest in journalism specifically so she targeted the information for the things that made journalism bring everyone together. News and reporting is a universal concept and even if it is not in the media for all of the public most people would end up doing some version of reporting in their life or would need to evaluate reporting done by news or others.

---

“Who is that boy, Marinette?” Alya asked, not even bothering to be discreet with her pointing.

“I don’t know. He does look familiar though,” Marinette responded.

“He has been staring at you all day,” Alya said.

“Really, did Mme Mendeleiev get any new students recently?”

“Not that I remember. Wouldn’t you already know about that as class rep, even for new students in her class?”

“Yeah. I don’t know of anyone. Maybe he came from another school just for the presentation. They are pretty well known reporters. I think the school would allow that.”

They finished at their lockers and said bye on the steps. Marinette was very happy that Mme Bustier asked to leave the stuff available to set up for a while. She really did not want to have to carry that all back home again today.

Marinette went directly upstairs to put her things away before heading down to help her parents. If she had the time on Fridays they liked for her to help out for a few hours after school so they could get the fancier weekend pastries started. She smoothed out her hair and washed her hands before heading to the register as she tied on an apron. Her mother turned to greet her and finished up with the last customer before they talked for a minute and Sabine headed back to the kitchens. Marinette started by wiping down the tables and straightening like she knew would need to be done when it was time to close the shop. Her parents didn’t insist she do more than the basics of the register and keeping the place neat but usually she liked to try to make it a bit easier for closing down.

She looked over as the door dinged and was surprised to see the American couple as well as the blue eyed boy that Alya had said was staring at her. It was right when she looked at all of them together that she figured it out. The couple used different last names for their bylines but she had learned they had been married for a number of years. The boy had just enough features from each of his parents that Marinette quickly figured out why he had been in the classroom with them.

Marinette greeted them like she would anyone new to the bakery but she messaged Alya right off. She couldn't anger her for neglecting to mention one of her favorite journalists was there. Also the boy was still giving her a look and she might need help.

Marinette took care of their order when they were ready and then went back to doing anything she could to make it easier to close. Her mom would probably come back in 15 or 20 minutes and she hoped to have the cases cleared out so her mom would just need to count the register and wipe everything down. She was very focused when Alya snuck in behind her and grabbed her sides.

If the family hadn't been sitting there eating while sneaking looks at her, they would definitely be looking now as she squealed loud enough to bring her parents from the back to see what was happening. Unfortunately what her parents saw when they came out was Marinette slapping Alya on the arm in retaliation and they gave her a look for it. Alya laughed at her as she got the first pick of the leftover pastries for the abuse.

Her parents released her from duty as they had enough finished that it was manageable without her. She took a tartlet too and stuck her tongue out at Alya before following her out the bakery. Before she was able to follow her out the door the boy called out to stop her. She turned back to him. His parents were sharing a smile but he appeared to be trying to ignore them.

"Wait," he paused when Marinette turned, then quickly said, "would you want to go get a coffee with me tomorrow?"

She wasn't sure what it was about his face at that moment, but she had a sudden realization. She knew exactly why he looked familiar because they had met before.

"That would be super."

Marinette smiled broadly but his blue eyes widened and his face paled slightly even though his smile never changed.

Taglist

#marijon #jonette #marijon week 2021 #boldlyanxious

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hypfic · 3 years

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Valentine prompts with matenrou and mad trigger crew number 8? 👀

ok so I kinda went ham with this one??? I got a lot of MTC requests so I think I’m gonna do those in their own special post but... phew these MTR ones started as hc lists and then I got possessed by the writing gods and made drabbles.... long post incoming!!!!

Jakurai [ 神宮寺寂�� ]: In your previous years, you hadn’t done anything notable for Valentine's Day. It wasn’t that you didn’t have anyone, moreover that you and your partner were always busy. However, this year you made an effort to plan something for you and your boyfriend. Sure, maybe it was a little much, you weren’t school children, but someone had to uphold the chocolate-making tradition, right? You begged your boss to let you have the day before and the day of Valentine’s off. It was a tough battle, but you managed to make it out with two days off under your belt! Jakurai however, wasn’t as lucky. Working in a hospital didn’t permit many days off. You got them when you got them, purely by chance if at all. He, unfortunately, had to work that morning, but you weren’t saddened in the slightest. In fact, you were grateful for his calling duties for it gave you more time to craft your surprise for that evening. You somehow managed to sneakily make chocolates the night before, and even more miraculously hide them in the fridge. You tied your hair up and ran to the kitchen as soon as you heard the door close behind Jakurai and his car pull out of the driveway. He was worried that you would be saddened by the fact that he had to work on Valentine’s, but he truly had no idea what was in store upon his return home. Jakurai picked up a bouquet of flowers on his way home that evening, hoping that even the small gesture would bring a smile to his beloved's face. You grinned as you saw your boyfriend’s car pull into the driveway that evening, checking the living room one last time for any crooked corners. On your way to the door, you dimmed the lights and let the candles take center stage, giggling at your reflection as you checked your hair in the mirror. Your eyes widened as you opened the door and were met by not only your dashing boyfriend but a bouquet of flowers as well. “Jakurai… what is this?” You blushed as he offered you the bouquet and stepped inside. “Well, it’s Valentine's day and you worked hard to get the day off and I had to go in,” He explained as he removed his coat, “I felt that I should at least do something for you,” the doctor leaned in to give you a kiss. “Why are the lights out?” “Oh! Well, it is Valentine’s Day after all!” You said with a wide smile, reaching out and taking Jakurai’s hand, pulling him towards the living room. “I took advantage of you being at work and put something together~” “Y/n… you didn’t have to,” Jakurai’s ears burned red, taking in the scene in front of him. On the living room table, you had prepared and spread out a nice dinner for the two of you, covered in candlelight. A bouquet of roses stood in a crystal vase surrounded by homemade chocolates. You walked over to the mantle and turned on the radio, soft jazz music dancing around the room. “No, I didn’t have to, but I wanted to! You do so much for me, it’s the least I could do,” You returned to your boyfriend’s side, hugging his arm. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.” The doctor wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in for a kiss, “You make me so happy, y/n. Happy Valentine’s Day, I love you.”

Hifumi [ 伊弉冉一二三 ]: It didn’t take much to make you jealous. Especially with your boyfriend being one of the top hosts in Shinjuku, envy seemed to come… naturally. Hifumi always assured you that he never did anything more than share a few drinks and maybe a kiss on the cheek with any of his patrons, and you believed him, you did, but that didn’t always stop your mind from wandering. The two of you had talked through his work and what that meant for the two of you countless times, what boundaries each of you had and what you were comfortable with. The waters always became testy around Valentine’s Day. Hifumi would come home with bags full of cards, sweets, bottles of alcohol, and some other… strange things the days leading up to Valentine’s. What were you to do for that special day if every woman and man in Shinjuku had already given Hifumi gifts more luxurious than you could fathom? Your boyfriend wasn’t stupid, he could tell something was up. Moreover, Hifumi knew what this was about. He knew dating a host was hard, and it was even harder over the love-focused holiday. So, he decided that for the first time in his host life, he would call in on Valentine’s. Before heading home from his division meeting with Jakurai and Doppo, he stopped by the small jewelry shop he knew you loved. The host had placed an order earlier in the week, the store clerk was in awe that the number one host in Shinjuku would purchase such a piece. Hifumi only blushed and insisted that there was more to his life than being a host, and there was only one exclusive patron of this high rank. The jeweler wished him well as Hifumi exited the shop with a small, velvet box. When he returned home, Hifumi walked around the apartment for you. “Y/n?” He knocked on the bedroom door, pushing it open slowly. He frowned as he saw your sleeping figure huddled up in a cocoon of blankets. “Y/n, kitten, are you awake?” Hifumi placed a hand on your shoulder as he sat on the bed. “I thought you would be at work tonight…” you said, turning around and facing him. He brushed your bangs from your face and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Well, I was supposed to but, I figured I’ve spent too many Valentine’s Days without you.” “Your boss must be cross with you,” you said as you sat up and leaned your head on his shoulder. “Meh, he can deal with it, I need to spend time with my true Valentine after all!” Hifumi’s voice quickly switched to his normal, joyful tone. “Nee, y/n, can I ask you something?” “Hmm? Sure ‘Fumi, what is it?” “I Uhm, well,” His cheeks blossomed with pink, “Well you see uh, I… You make me so happy and I wanted to get you something to show that… also uhm! I know dating a host can be hard and all so I wanted there to be something you can always have to remind you that you’re the only one for me!” Hifumi smiled brightly, reaching into his pocket for the box. “This isn’t the ideal way I planned to do this, but it was a spontaneous thought, to do it tonight. I was gonna wait and take you somewhere real fancy but…” You had tears in your eyes already, slowly realizing what was happening. “Hifumi, baby, it's ok I… are you?” Hifumi nodded and grabbed your left hand, kissing your knuckles and holding your hand by his face, “Y/n, will you marry me?” “Yes.”

Doppo [ 観音坂独歩 ]: You hummed happily in front of the stove, soft music softly bumping from your phone. It was early morning and you miraculously managed to wake up early, earlier than your boyfriend too. Today was Valentine’s Day, so the only logical solution to your blessed coincidence was to make your special someone breakfast. You were hoping that you could surprise him with the meal in bed but… you didn’t hold your hopes too high. Doppo always got up painfully early to go to work on weekdays, and just because it was the weekend didn’t mean that the routine would be broken. It was a gamble to try and prepare something to surprise him before he woke up. You glanced briefly at your phone to check the timer you had going for the bacon in the oven, smiling as it seemed that you had just about half an hour left before your tired salaryman rolled out of bed. Alas, you spoke too soon as a pair of warm arms found their way around your waist and a chin sitting on your shoulder. Doppo hummed and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Good morning…” he yawned, not making any apparent moves to let go of your waist. “Ahh, Doppo! I was so close! You should have stayed in bed for another twenty minutes!” You pouted, craning your neck to face him. “Good morning to you too,” you allowed yourself to chuckle. “Someone’s affectionate this morning,” your chuckles turned into giggles as your boyfriend peppered kisses on your neck up to your cheeks. “Rest well?” “Mmhm,” the salaryman hummed in agreement, pausing his storm of kisses to peek over your shoulder. “What’re you making?” You shook your head and smiled, “Well, it was going to be a surprise if someone didn’t get out of bed early!” you clicked your tongue, “I wanted to make you breakfast for Valentine’s Day, surprise you with it if I could… I thought I was doing well with the time too…” Doppo chuckled and kissed the back of your neck, “Hmm, I guess I could go lay down then? Let you finish in here?” “That would be lovely, baby,” you turned around to face him in his embrace and pecked his lips. “It’ll only be about…” you paused to check the time, “ten more minutes! Don’t get too cozy in there, ok?” The man in front of you smiled softly before catching your lips in another kiss. “I’ll try my best, sunshine.” Your cheeks burned red at the pet name, even though you’d been referred to as such many times before. With Doppo now out of the kitchen, you pulled your goodies out of the oven and put a pot of tea on to boil. You continued humming to yourself as you quickly whipped together a batch of pancake mix, spooning the batter in heart shapes in the pan. Once the pancakes were done and you had everything nicely plated, you grinned excitedly as you walked up the stairs to the bedroom, trays in hand. It may not be the ideal surprise you had envisioned, but you were still thrilled. You pushed the door open with your foot and giggled as you approached the bed, noticing that your boyfriend had dozed off. “Pssst, Doppochi, I thought I told you not to get too comfy,” You placed the trays down and poked his cheek. “Mm?” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Oh, sorry…” You laughed, “No, no, it’s ok, you need your rest after all! Look! I made us breakfast~” Doppo smiled wide and kissed your cheek “You make me so happy, you know that?”

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envysparkler · 3 years

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Pssst envy. Just because you're not doing the alt prompts right now, doesn't mean they're totally off the table, right? You could still write them in the future? Like, December, maybe?

😂 I'm not the one who completes Whumptober prompts outside of October. Batcellanea is closed for now, but chances are that I'll open it sometime in the future, for another challenge or a subscriber celebration or if something goes well in my RL research.

#envy answers #whumptober2021

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blackjacktheboss · 4 years

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Ahhh your short stories are the best!! I’m not sure if your still accepting prompts but if you are 14 or 23 pls I need to be cured from the angst (your writing is so good it kills me)

“Shh, we have to be quiet, dad is sleeping,” Theo says to his sisters.

“Why do we have to be quiet when we wanna wake him up?” Amelia asks, already annoyed with her brother at eight in the morning.

Theo rolls his eyes. “Because, dummy, we gotta wait for the right moment to wake him up!”

Percy groans as he opens an eye to see his three children standing in front of his side of the bed. “I’m gonna be honest, you guys totally blew this.”

Theo elbows Amelia in the side. “Way to go, nerd.”

She shoves him right back. “Says the one who reads for fun.”

Percy sits up in bed. “Guys, cool it. It’s too early still.”

Ruthie, who up until now had just been happily humming to herself and following her siblings, walked up to Percy and used her best whisper voice. “Daddy, we want pancakes please.”

Percy pulls his favorite four year old up into his lap and squeezes her. “Is that so, Monster?”

“Mhmm,” she says, nodding emphatically.

Percy stretches an arm out and nudges Annabeth. “Pssst, hey life partner.”

Annabeth groans and peeks over the covers. “What?”

Percy smiles. “The children want breakfast.”

“Then you better get on it.”

“I believe it is your weekend to make breakfast, my love.”

She lowers the covers from her face completely. “I’m sorry, who pushed all three of these children out of her body after carrying them around for nine months?”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Her smug smile could be seen from space. “Nope! Enjoy your pancakes, babies. Love you.”

“Goodnight, mommy,” Ruthie says in another loud whisper.

Percy holds Ruthie tight as he leans over to kiss Annabeth before he rolls out of bed and leads the children downstairs. “I can’t wait until you guys are teenagers. I’m gonna wake you up so early every weekend.”

#quarantine content #percabeth #percababies

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ivyglow · 4 years

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You don’t go out there kissing everyone - Mat Barzal NYI

Author notes: So, I got a lot of Mathew requests and some of them were very alike, so I decided to mix some. In this piece we have three prompts which are:

99. “it’s just a kiss”; 35. “I don’t want to be just friends with benefits anymore.” and 11. “we’re not just friends, and you know it” I hope you guys like it! Feedback is always appreciated.

Word count: 3.196

Also, IMPORTANT: It’s not proofread aaaand I wanted to know if someone wants to do it (before I post on here) with almost every piece I write. Sorry for the confusing talk, I’m at the airport rn but I wanted to post it fast since it’s been a while I got the ask.

Things started months ago when y/n went on a horrible date and Mat wasn’t in the vibe for dating someone neither having random hookups on the weekends, so he suggested to try put some benefits in their friendship, at first it was a good idea since there was this tension between both of them but as time pass by things got a little out of planning.

It wouldn’t be a real friendship with benefits if one of them -or both- fall in love, huh?!

First, the kisses started to linger longer than usual, then they happened in moments other than sex like when y/n arrived at his house to shit talk about anything or when they were alone together and one of then needed to go. Then affection started to grow, but y/n kept telling herself that it was the kind of thing they used to do before, therefore Mat bringing her coffee at college or sending texts to remind of drink water and lunchtime wasn’t news.

The clock hits 8am when y/n’s cell phone starts ringing and bringing the noise to all the room. She curses before reaching for the bedside table and turning it off. The bedroom was in a perfect scenario for sleeping all day long, blinds were closed, the air was cool and she was completely naked - covered only by the comforter -.

“pssst, wake up” she hears the whisper, smells the lotion and feels the hands in her hair.

“Too early”

“Honey, it’s already 8:30, the guys are arriving soon”

And suddenly her eyes were wide open.

Shit! She didn’t mean to stay the night when she got into his condo after a hell of a class. Eventually, they slept together the whole night, but not always, especially when they have breakfast with their group of friends. Mat seemed to sense her nervousness and kissed the top of her head sentencing “You were too tired last night, I choose not to wake you up.”

“Matyyyy” she whined closing her eyes again and sinking further in the bed. He chuckles. “I gotta go home to clean clothes an-” “There are enough options in my closet” he explains finally letting his weight falls into her, but with caution, so she doesn’t get hurt.

“You’re wet!!!!” y/n cursed one more time once she felt the drops of water hit her face and collarbone.

“Just got out of the shower” Mat states simply. She rolls her eyes playfully and let a kiss into his chin.

“Smells good” she whispers “and you shaved…”

He nods smiling. “I saw you were getting some scratches in the inner tight, so It was no big deal for me to solve this”

Scratches…

Inner tig-

Her thoughts are interrupted once she understands what he meant. The pitch of her stomach gaining the well-known feeling. Mat loved to go down on y/n so once he noticed that the growing beard was a little inconvenient to her sensitive area he didn’t think twice before shaving it off.

“I gotta go home to clean clothes before everyone arrives.” she changes the subject after the silence, actually, the silence wasn’t something uncomfortable between them.

“I told you there are enough options here” he repeats himself and she reaches for his neck, lacing her arms around it.

“How come?”

“You always forget something, so I usually just wash and put it with my clothes”

Y/n stays silent, she knew she left a pair or two of panties since the last time they ended up ripping the one she was wearing, but she didn’t think Mat was so careful and kept everything clean.

It was kind of overwhelming, to be honest, she already had a toothbrush and some books at his place, but clothes in general? Space in his closet? That was...scary.

It meant something and she knew it.

“Babe, you have to get up” Mat pokes her side.

“Honey”, “babe”...the nicknames, the soft kisses, the attention, the cuddles while sleeping at night...how they let things got this far?! This was far from the established line, wasn’t it?!

Y/n gives no response, just trying to sink more in the cushions, Mat chuckles and stands up, pushing the comforter off.

“Barzal, I’m naked!!!!” she grumbles covering her chest with one arm. “and it’s cold”

“First, I see you naked always and second, it’s not cold. C’mon, go take a bath, y/n” he pleads and she puffs finally getting up and heading to the bathroom.

She takes her time while washing her hair, brushing her teeth and choosing between a lot of clothes that -as Mat said- were at his closet. When she was finally dressed and combing her hair the doorbell rings. The voice of Tito, Joe, Emma, and Ed is heard from the bedroom and y/n takes a final look at the mirror before heading downstairs to her friends.

Joe is the first one to notice her and then Emma who’s sitting in the couch in front of the stairs, she gives y/n a well-known look, even tho y/n never talked about her ‘relationship’ with Mathew, Emma seemed to sense -but never enough to prove her point, so things usually consisted in Emma saying that she liked him and y/n denying every word.

“Good morning, Y/n” Tito compliments heh with a strong hug. “You got here early?”

“Yeah, it’s been ten minutes or so…”

“I see your hair still wet” Emma whispers while planting a kiss in her friend’s cheek.

“I came right after a bath, so yeah”.

“Mhm, sure, gonna pretend I believe you” the blonde girl jokes and y/n rolls her eyes playfully.

Ed and Joe are the next ones, Joe lingering a little bit longer in the hug and adding a small kiss in y/n’s cheek. “You look good today” he smiles before letting her body finally go. That, however, didn’t pass unnoticed by Mat.

“So, what you guys brought to breakfast??” Barzal asks while walking to the kitchen, followed by the others.

“I brought the watermelon juice, y/n’s favorite” Joe states while walking right behind his friends.

Mathew discreetly rolls his eyes and y/n is fast to see, shooting him a small giggle.

Everyone putting their designed plates in the table minutes before the loud voice and laughers start along with mouths full of food and eventually some choking and more laughs.

The group of friends left Mathew’s house around lunchtime, but they would meet at some Tito’s friend party in the evening, which probably was the main reason why y/n went home...or maybe she needed some alone time to put straight her thoughts. Barzal drove her home and they said their goodbyes with a small wave, something seemed off and both could feel it, the tension almost touchable. Happens that during all morning Joe kept flirting with y/n in a way he never did before, which was funny to all of their friends who were seeing all of that as one of Joe’s typical class-clown behavior. He was a funny guy, but Barzal was sure at that moment he was not kidding, he meant it and the way his eyes were trailing her body made his blood boil.

But what Mathew could do?

Nothing!

They were not dating, he couldn’t simply demand him to shut up, not when y/n didn’t look at him pleading help with her eyes or showed some kind of discomfort, she was apparently seeing all the situation as comic.

He wanted to feel comfortable with someone praising y/n cause Mat was sure she deserved all, but he was afraid. And not from the praise or guys at all, he was afraid of her falling for someone else, seeing the possibility of the same relationship with someone that wasn’t him.

Hell, he wanted to show her off to the whole world and praise her in every way possible.

In the monarchy times, she surely would be his queen almighty. And him...he would be just a fool in love.

In love.

These words were his only company all day long while his mind raced with thoughts about what the hell was happening until he felt tired enough to fall asleep.

Mat woke up with the call from Tito asking if he would make it in time and he was confused once the sleep made him forget about the party. Mathew raced for the bathroom, taking a batch, changing and finally leaving thirty minutes later for the party.

Bruno Mars was blasting through the speakers of the club while the group of friends talking in a discreet corner. Y/n standing beside Emma with her drink in hands a small smile displaying on her face. Her waist was moving slightly and as much as she wanted to feel the music and delightfully dance something was missing…

Almost forty minutes later his perfume is close, her stomach does some flips and finally, the voice is heard.

“I fell asleep, sorry guys” he states while going to compliment everyone in the friends' circle.

Tito is fast to start chatting and so the night goes with a lot of talks, dance, music, laugh, and glances. When the club started to get full and they wanted to keep the conversation and subjects between their group Emma suggested to go to Ed’s house that was close from there.

They did as suggested and when everyone was getting comfortable in the living room Joe started “we should play truth or dare”.

“Don’t we have something better to do” it’s Ed’s turn to speak and he glances at his friend with a curious and sarcastic face.

“C’mon, it will be fun! We gonna talk shit anyway…” Emma jokes and y/n chuckles, her friend was always open for adventures and since it was only their group she felt safe to be who she was and to do all the things she wants as well.

“You see, Em’s by my side?!” showing his tongue Joe disappears into the house getting back some minutes later with a bottle.

All the five already sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. Emma is by y/n’s right and by her left is empty and then Tito talking with Ed and Barzal. Joe takes the opportunity and sits by her side which doesn’t go unnoticed by Mathew one more time, but whatever, they were all friends, it was normal to eulogize and give attention and take care and...right?!

Because of her excitement, Emma is the first to start throwing the bottle that lands with the bottleneck pointing to Edward.

“Truth or dare, Ed?”

“Truth” he exhales.

“Ok...were you in love with our physic teacher in college?” she’s straight into the point and Joe laughs seeing his friend become bright red and then pale.

“Oh, c’mon Ems, we don’t even have this class anymore!!”

“You said the truth” Tito chuckles standing for his friend. “Let’s go, man, answer fast.”

Ed grumbles before giving their friend a positive answer that made all of them cheer and laugh.

When Ed spins the bottle and it lands for y/n she arches her brows.

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare” she rolls her eyes and takes a sip from her drink. He would probably send her to ring the doorbell of the neighbor or walk barefoot in the sidewalk, or so y/n thought.

“Kiss Joe”

“What?” Tito chuckles not believing in Ed’s command.

“You gotta be kidding me” y/n curls her lips into a funny way.

“Am not. I dare you to kiss Joe”

She rolls her eyes that land into a pair of honey already staring. His eyes were dark and he had this stressed face that he does when some player hits him in the ice. Mathew wasn’t happy with that little game not even a little.

She waited to see if he was going to say something, but as nothing left his lips she used hers to kiss the boy by her side. Joe's hand’s found her cheek and he was looking for some kind of dominance in the kiss, trying to get her close every second so so different from Barzal kisses, she remembered. Mat always holds her close, wait for some sign of consent and usually tangles his long fingers into her curly hair.

Emma does this surprise noise when Joe and y/n break the kiss and Mat looks a little disappointed.

“I’m gonna grab some air,” the number 13 of the nyi says before leaving the room. Y/n was fast to notice the change in his tone, he was mad.

Emma glances at her and she stays still, not really being able to understand everything including the mood swing from Mathew. “Your turn to spin the bottle” Ed mumbles noticing that his dare wasn’t one of the best ideas.

“I...I gotta talk to Mat” she stands.

“You should wait h-” Emma was not able to stop y/n from standing up neither changing her mind. She knew her best friend and she knew that once y/n decided to do something it was pretty hard to convince her otherwise.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking, right?” Tito’s voice is the last thing y/n could hear before leaving the room.

Mat was leaning in the wall, the empty corridor not doing much to hide her presence even with the constant beep of the elevator.

“What the hell was that?!” She was starting to get angry, but with the fact that he acts like something was happening, he left evidence to their friends when they had made it clear that thein fling could never ever be known. It would make the friendship a little complicated. “What?” “Don’t act like you have no idea about what I’m talking about. That scene in the living room in front of our friends...it was so...childish!”

“C’mon, I’m not gonna stand here to hear you say that shit” he answers.

“We’re friends, Mat, that was not the attitude of a friend and you know it! Emma is always talking about us and I know Tito is all about jokes with you too.”

“We’re what?”

“Friends, Mathew!”

“We’re not just friends, and you know it!” he speaks almost softly.

Y/n freezes in her spot, the elevator still not there, but Mat wished it was for some seconds. It was not easy to start a relationship discussion in the middle of their friend’s apartment corridor.

Knowing y/n like he knew, Barzal expected her to say some shit about his statement, some sass comment or even a roll of eyes, however, just like she had nothing against it she said: “Ok, but it’s just a kiss…”

“You don’t go out there kissing everyone!”

“Don’t you?!” she furrows her brows.

“Gosh, what image do you have of me? I’m your friend…”

“But if I recall we both agreed with the not serious status, and the main reason is our friendship.” She bites her lips and starts to tap her bare feet in the ground.

“See, that's the thing!” he sighs. “Mat, stop talking to me like I’m able to fucking read your mind!! You have to tell me stuffs, we should take like we usually d-”

“I don’t wanna be just friends with benefits anymore”

She goes silent and the elevator finally arrives. It’s like her mind still racing and processing what he just said. He was jealous. He confessed he didn’t want to do that anymore. But what did that means? Mat want them to be over or does he wants to start something serious?!

Before she was able to speak he enters the elevator, however y/n’s able to see the look of disappoint in his eyes, the eyes that she knows so well..the eyes that she woke up beside during some days of the week, the eyes that usually made her body shiver, the eyes that spoke into words that not ever she could read.

So when she finally put the things together she calls the elevator, praying for the time to be by her side. That’s what they say in the rom-com movies, that the time works perfectly when it comes to two lovers.

This time it does not take long to the elevator arrive and she hops in, barefoot, messy hair and a racing heart.

When it comes to a stop she runs looking for his car in the parking lot of the building. It’s not even open yet, he’s standing in the side of it. Hands holding the door like he was looking for some kind of strength to his body.

“Mathew!!” she tries to run faster catching his attention.

“I…” he starts but she cuts him off. “I guess I don’t wanna be just friends with benefits anymore too…” her voice was puffy, gasping for air. Mathew opens his mouth to talk once again, but she rolls her eyes speaking first again “Why couldn’t you just wait for my answer?! I’m not a professional athlete like you…”

He chuckles.

“Sorry” it’s a whisper, she knows it’s not just him making her run, it’s about no being patient, not waiting for things to calm down to talk...not telling her before. But as they said, love has its own time huh?! Or that’s what he wants to believe.

She gets closer, hands holding his shoulders.

“And now?”

“I mean...we go on a date or our nights' count as it?” he jokes and laughs softly.

“Where would you take me?” she asks, brows furrowed.

“As I already know you, I know you know where I would take you...but let me make this as a surprise” he pecks her lips.

“With how many dates we can kiss?” y/n gets closer.

“I don’t know, you tell me”

“Can we start it with the kiss first and then the date?” she jokes and lean even closer, her barefoot almost leaving the ground.

“We can start however you want”

And so they kissed, in the underground of the building, in a very unexpected night. Just like that, no complications, no need to worry. Things would find its ways for the better. Call it fate, love or simply their actions. Y/n and Mathew were ready to face it together.

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fancifulwhump · 4 years

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Pssst jaskier prompt if you're interested: I'm a sucker for geralt being soft and caring while refusing to acknowledge it - so a fic where there's something wrong with jaskier - maybe he fell into an icy lake, or is getting sick or something, and geralt takes care of him like a total tsundere? *angrily shoves blankets at him* *stoically checks his temperature* *gruffly makes him soup* *WE'RE NOT FRIENDS BUT ALSO I WILL SIT AT YOUR BEDSIDE NURSE YOU BACK TO HEALTH UNTIL YOUR SINGING AGAIN*

@hurt-comfort asked: Hey hey! Loving your writing. I'm @hurt-comfort. I would love ANY Jaskier whump (use any prompt on my blog). I'd love to see like, Geralt just needing to comfort Jas (because he WANTS to even though he has the social IQ of a potato.) "When the whumpee is in like a daze, just sitting and staring at nothing because of something traumatic. Then someone forces them to either eat, get changed, or just move. Like shellshock" and Geralt has to be like "Jaskier, listen, it's okay"

AN: okay, okay, there was a lot to work with here, but hopefully I hammered it into a scenario that makes sense? “Falls through thin ice” is such a great whump trope and also a real nightmarescape of mine, so… let’s all enjoy the trauma together, guys!!

It’s not as though Geralt doesn’t care. That isn’t it at all. If he cared less, Jaskier probably wouldn’t get into scrapes like this --- he’d find his own trouble, of the ‘incensed husbands and fathers’ variety, but would cross paths with far fewer monsters. If Geralt didn’t care at all, he’d have abandoned the fool in some insignificant village long ago and never thought twice on the subject.

If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have fished Jaskier out of the damn lake.

Fine. That’s... not true. He would have done it anyway. The terror he felt when he heard the ice crack --- that heart-plunging, vein-chilling terror --- he could have gladly gone without. Instead, he was almost frozen by it. From the ominous creak of the ice beneath their feet, to the sudden sharp scent of unfrozen water, to Jaskier’s half-hesitant “Geralt ---”

Before the ice gave way.

It took him too long to move. Too long to spring into action, too long to force his body to cooperate with his racing nerves. Witchers are trained to never be caught unaware, to react on instinct --- a slow witcher is a dead witcher --- but he wasn’t fast enough to catch Jaskier before he plunged through the ice.

Where he vanished, only a hole remained --- and the water underneath, black and churning, small chunks of ice bobbing like forgotten fragments amidst the inky depths. Nothing thrashed; nothing moved. Geralt plunged both arms in, ignorant of the cold. His lone thought was catching something --- an arm, a foot, the collar of a jacket, anything to prove that Jaskier was down there. Yet as he groped through the murk, he found nothing.

“Jaskier!” he bellowed, the sound echoing across the frozen lake. If the bard could hear him underwater, he gave no indication. Beneath Geralt’s knees, the ice creaked alarmingly, but Geralt fought through the natural instinct to retreat. Not without the damned bard. Dead or alive, he wouldn’t leave Jaskier beneath the surface.

He began to scramble, clearing snow from the frozen laketop to reveal the hardened ice beneath. It was like looking through a mirror into another world. Above was all he knew, all he’d ever known; below lay a foreign realm of darkness and desolation. Some battles even witchers could not fight, and a frozen lake was one of them.

Jaskier was nowhere, nowhere. Nowhere at all. Beneath the ice was a vortex of blackness, no thrashing body in sight. He must have sunk, Geralt’s furious mind realized, sunk right to the bottom, dragged down by that damned lute, and that’s the end of him ----

With a roar of fury, Geralt’s fists slammed down on the ice. “Jaskier!”

For a beat, nothing happened. And then the ice broke.

This time, Geralt’s reflexes served him well. He scrambled back, finding his feet half a second before the frozen ground he’d been kneeling on shattered. Back, and back, the ice splintered and broke, widening the crevasse of churning water. No longer was it safe to stand on; the ice would not tolerate any more weight. Geralt took a step back, gaze fixed on ice’s open mouth, gaping and hungry…

There, a movement.

There, something white and fluttering, like a bird in its death throes.

There, a fucking hand.

He moved too quickly for even the ice to catch him --- but Geralt caught Jaskier, and that was the important thing. In one swift movement, he hauled the thrashing man up, out of the water and onto solid ground. Not solid for long, though. Even at the weight of Jaskier’s body flopping onto its surface, the ice groaned and gave way some more. A hand still locked around Jaskier’s forearm, Geralt seized hold of his companion’s other. There wasn’t a second to waste, even to make sure he was alright. Heaving Jaskier’s pliant body up and over his shoulder, Geralt ran.

Ice breaks fast. Witchers run faster.

He would have tried to save Jaskier anyways, Geralt thinks as he sets the bard’s limp body down on solid ground, but it would be so much easier not to care. At the moment, he cannot stop caring. The crack of ice still rings in his head, dogging him like one of Jaskier’s songs; though he takes little notice of the water’s lingering chill, it’s obvious in the stark whiteness of Jaskier’s face. Somewhere in their mad flight, Jaskier vomited up any water he swallowed. Now, he simply shivers in his damp clothes, still gasping like a fish on land. Something in the icy air doesn’t agree with him, because he keeps coughing, and he’s trembling —

Geralt does care. That’s the difficult thing. Because caring for humans is a fragile process, a risk with limited possibility for reward. Humans are so breakable, and there are so many things that can go wrong.

Caught in a moment like this, he isn’t sure how to care for Jaskier.

“You’re fine,” is what he settles on, drawing back to survey Jaskier’s shaking form. “Damned ice.”

It wasn’t Jaskier’s fault, of course. For once, he wasn’t blindly catapulting himself into mortal peril. Even Geralt hadn’t realized the ice was so thin… which is the real bitch of it, because Geralt should have known. He’s the one with heightened senses, with the ability to smell damned ice in the air — Jaskier couldn’t have known, but he should have. He should.

“You’re alright,” he says again, awkwardly patting Jaskier’s shoulder. Even under his touch, the bard quivers… but he’s still in wet clothes, and the afternoon is frigid. Right now, they need to get him warm.

Surely that will bring the blood back to his cheeks, and chase away that expression — a wide-eyed, blank look, so utterly unlike Jaskier that it’s unnerving. His open mouth still gulps in greedy lungfuls of air, which he proceeds to choke on. Any chance of regaining his composure is clearly beyond Jaskier right now, so it’s up to Geralt to drag him back.

Literally, as it turns out. When, after a few minutes, Jaskier tries to find his feet, his knees immediately give out on him. He winds up crouched on the frozen ground, hands digging into the dirt, practically curled in on himself. His head ticks against his chest as he trembles, eyes squeezing shut. Geralt waits a moment, weighs the cost of Jaskier’s dignity against his own, and finally offers a hand.

Jaskier doesn’t take it. He doesn’t even look up.

“Damn it all,” Geralt grunts. This was exactly what he didn’t want to do — yet it seems there’s no choice. Either he leaves Jaskier to freeze in the middle of a frozen wood, or lead him along like a child. Since Jaskier isn’t in any condition to give his preference —

Tucking one strong arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, Geralt hauls the bard to his feet. For one frightful second, his legs seem ready to give out beneath him again; but Jaskier slumps into Geralt, trusting his weight, and manages to stay upright. Geralt takes one step forward. Jaskier manages to follow. Another step, and another, and soon they are walking. It’s not much — Geralt is basically Jaskier’s walking stick, used to ground him despite his violent shivering — and Jaskier still hasn’t found his voice, but it’s enough. It gets them where they need to go.

When Great grunts and nods to the horse, it’s enough of a shock to resurrect Jaskier’s voice. “You —“ he croaks, then clears his throat with a wince. “You w-want me — t-to ride —“

“Get on the horse,” is all Geralt says, turning away. Chances are, he’ll regret it. Chances are, Roach will resent him for it. But with Jaskier riding, they’ll make it to town within the hour. Given the choice between an inn’s roaring hearth or defrosting over a sickly campfire, he can guess which one Jaskier would prefer.

By some small shred of common sense, the bard doesn’t hesitate. After a few pained grunts — which Geralt does not turn around to investigate, because it’s not his damn job — Roach lets out a huff of her own, and Geralt starts walking. The steady rhythm of hooves behind him reassures that Jaskier manages to make it up.

His estimate isn’t far off, either. They make it to town within the hour, riding past rows of dreary brick-and-mortar buildings towards the heart of town. Usually, Geralt is welcomed with stony silence by suspicious village folk; today is no different. Having Jaskier as a companion does come with rare advantages; he burns so brightly and appears so guileless that people can’t glare at him the way they do at Geralt. When Jaskier rides into town at his side, they are often given far warmer reception. Jaskier charms cart-vendors, smiles at children, winks at passing ladies (and gentlemen)... he makes himself welcome wherever he goes. Geralt May be a far more imposing presence, but he finds himself swept up in Jaskier’s tide, carried with him where he goes.

At the moment, however, Jaskier is in no state to charm and cajole his way into a dreary town’s good graces. He simply hangs low on Roach’s back, head bowed, as they ride through the streets. His shoulders still quake with the occasional shiver; his breaths are a bit too heavy for Geralt’s liking, and he’s too quiet. Somehow, Geralt finds himself more preoccupied with Jaskier’s state than the hostility radiating from the wary villagers.

The local inn has a spare room for the night, a warm bed, and a bath. It’s good enough for Geralt. He slides their coin across the table, steps back outside to collect Jaskier off of Roach — he’d trembled too hard at the notion of coming inside — and makes short work of hustling him up the stairs. As soon as the door closes behind them, Geralt guides Jaskier to the bed, form hands pushing both shoulders down. Jaskier doesn’t even bother with a token protest.

“Your clothes,” Geralt says. When Jaskier stares at him blankly, he curses. “They’re still wet.” Frozen, in fact, hardened with a thin sheen of frost against the night air. Leaving them like that is guaranteed to lead to problems later on; Geralt has no desire to leave town tomorrow with a pneumatic bard trailing behind. He reaches out, giving the sleeve of Jaskier’s jacket a tug. The leather is stiff, sending a hail of ice crystals raining down onto the mattress, Jaskier doesn’t react at all.

So, that’s how it’s going to be?

If Jaskier won’t do his own damn job, Geralt will do it for him. Scowling, he manhandles Jaskier’s jacket and jerkin off. In moments, he is left in nothing but his undershirt. That’s soaked through too, but the fabric isn’t as frozen; Jaskier could easily shrug out of it on his own. Still, he makes no movement to.

“What’s the matter with you?” Geralt demands.

Jaskier says nothing at all. His gaze shifts away from Geralt, across the room towards the closed window. Something about him — be it his hunched posture, eerie silence, or the far-off look on his face — feels as though he isn’t here at all. Jaskier has wandered off without Geralt noticing, going somewhere far away. Wherever he’s gone, Geralt doesn’t know how to get him back.

After a long moment, he sighs, casting the half-frozen clothes aside. When he strides across the room, his footsteps resound against the wooden floorboards. It’s easier to fill the silence with something instead of nothing at all. Somehow, it leaves him feeling less alone. The inn’s portress has filled a metal tub with steaming water, leaving it right outside their door; Geralt makes quick work of dragging it in, grunting as he goes. By the time it’s set up, the floor is littered with puddles, and his pants are uncomfortably soaked — but the memory of Jaskier emerging, white as death, from the black depths stifles any complaint instantly.

Looking back up at the bard, he’s shocked to see Jaskier showing signs of life. He’s found his feet again, and even removed his undershirt. Now, his hands fumble at the laces of his breeches, but they’re shaking too hard to manage.

Geralt allows himself exactly half a minute to settle on absolutely not, before caving in. It’s either this or watch the bard bathe half-dressed, which would be even more pathetic. That’s what he tells himself, at least, as he roughly shoved Jaskier’s hands aside and undoes the laces himself.

“You — you don’t h-have—“ Jaskier’s murmured protest cuts off. The job’s already done. Geralt looks back up at him, unconsciously seizing one of his wrists; automatically, a hiss escapes past his clenched teeth.

“You’re still freezing!” Geralt has met ice wights with more heat in their bones. No wonder he’s trembling so badly — shock mixed with potential hypothermia is a dangerous combination. Either one on its own can be debilitating, but both of them bad enough could be lethal.

“Bath. Now,” he orders brusquely, giving the bard a shove towards the steaming tub. Still dazed, as though caught in a waking dream, Jaskier stumbles into it. He doesn’t even whimper as the hot water envelops his freezing limbs, though it has to hurt. His thousand-mile stare shifts away from Geralt and down to the water. After a moment, Jaskier goes utterly still.

“You need to soak. That won’t stay warm all night.” When Jaskier gives no indication that he’s even heard, Geralt grunts in frustration and kneels at the side of the tub. “Hey!” He gives Jaskier’s shoulder a jolt, and he jerks to attention abruptly. The blatant fear in his eyes takes Geralt aback. He expected exhaustion, even irritation, but not — whatever this is.

“The water closed over my head,” Jaskier exhales, and evening his voice sounds a thousand leagues away. “It happened so fast… like I was swallowed. And I couldn’t — I couldn’t breathe, Geralt, I couldn’t — couldn’t swim. It was so cold —“

“Jaskier.” His hand is still gripping a bony shoulder; now, Geralt’s hold tightens, pulling his companion towards him. When Jaskier tries to pull back, he won’t let him. “Look at me. Hey.” Jaskier is still trembling, but Geralt grounds him with the contact, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You,” he says slowly, “are safe. This water is warm. It’s not going to hurt you. Nothing’s going to hurt you as long as I’m here.”

“It almost—“ Jaskier starts, then cuts off. Geralt understands anyway. It feels like a blade to the gut.

“I know,” he says after a long moment. “I’m… sorry.”

“Sorry?” Jaskier blinks at him, as though slowly awakening from a deep sleep. “Geralt… you saved me.”

But he wasn’t fast enough. “Still.”

Slowly, Jaskier shakes his head. His legs relax in the water, fully submerging, and he sinks up to his chest. Finally, finally, he’s no longer trembling. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s not what Geralt deserves, but this day has given Jaskier nothing he deserves either — not a near-death in a frozen lake, not the clumsy care of a brute who has no idea what he’s doing. This bath is the first nice thing to happen to him all day… and suddenly, Geralt is determined that Jaskier shall enjoy it.

Reaching in, he cups a palm full of water, and releases it over one pale, bare shoulder. Unwillingly, Jaskier lets out a gasp. Steam rises and quickly evaporated off of the chilled skin, but the mere touch of water is enough to make Jaskier want more. He quickly sinks down, submerging himself up to his chin. Geralt watches carefully, intently, just in case.

He will not be too slow to save Jaskier this time.

After a long moment, the bard shifts in the water and says, in a small voice, “Thank you.”

Geralt has no idea what he’s being thanked for; he simply huffs and turns his head, looking away.

#the witcher #jaskier #whump #Anonymous

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kitweewoos · 3 years

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Here! More Dialogue Prompts

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

You're the only good thing in this town.

Have you seen this?

It's not good news.

I feel empty.

What even is it supposed to be?

Afraid to get your hands dirty?

They were wrong, and you know that.

Is that on fire?

I told you not to touch it!

To be honest, I wasn't listening.

What do you expect from me?

No. No no. No no no. I refuse.

I almost died!

I feel like I'm living a double life.

I mean, I think I look great.

Of course, you did.

You know you're going to be late, right?

They can just wait for five seconds; they made me wait long enough for this.

What's that, the sound of my trust in you shattering?

I swear to God if you tracked blood into my house again, I'm going -

#WRITING PROMPTS #DIALOGUE PROMPTS #FIC PROMPTS #WRITING #PROMPT LIST #OKAY TO REBLOG #PSSST MY WRITING PROMPTS ARE OPEN

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galleywinter · 4 years

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Pssst (and I’ll reblog this around lunch tomorrow, too), if you ever want to ask me about any of my OCs from any story I’ve written/am writing or franchise I’ve played, please for the love of God, do! I love talking about my darling goblin brain children (and may have spammed @mrreindeerface in Discord all night about my Shepard and her children). Prompt me! One word, a scenario, essentially requests! Doesn’t matter how long or short what you toss at me is. Sling them in my inbox (just please put a fandom if you’ve got a specific one in mind)! Come tell me about your OCs! I want to hear about those, too! Basically, my inbox is open and I would love for you guys to drop some stuff in it. <3

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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 years

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Into Darkness

Written for @marquiswrites 100 follower writing challenge. Congratulations on reaching that milestone!

Prompt: Dream a Little Dream (song - shown in bold) with Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2194

Warnings: Depictions of blood and death, loss and grieving, and a little bit of fluff.

Summary: In war, time isn’t just measured in victory, it’s measured in loss. Bucky doesn’t fear death or the eternal dark, not for himself. He fears he’ll lose the one good thing he’s found in all of this; you. When the darkness comes calling, the nightingale sings.

A/N: I’m terrible with images, banners, everything really, so excuse my horrific effort below. Also, the names of characters don’t reflect characters from the MCU films, howling commandos or the 107th - only Bucky and Dum Dum are present and correct, sir!

Mist creeps across the field, slow and insidious, carrying with it the stench of burnt flesh, gunpowder and excrement. The air is still and silent, like a held breath; an eerie contrast to the thundering explosions, rattling machine guns and bloody screams of hours past.

Down in the trenches, the sniff and shuffle of soldiers hunkering down to briefly rest is carried to his ears as Bucky waits, prone and alert, searching. There are no signs of life in the scope of his rifle, the grey gloom is undisturbed.

He sighs. The longer the medics are out in the open, the less likely they are to return, and he’s looking for one in particular. You.

He can’t admit it, it’s frowned upon, but he’s grown fond of you in the weeks the 107th have been stationed on the French front line. As far as nurses go, you’re more skilled than any he’s seen; adept, calm and confident, and with a low mortality rate. As far as field medics go, you’re a Valkyrie; fearless and steadfast with a warrior’s soul. You raise hopes wherever you are and you’re a total sweetheart. He hopes one day you’ll be his sweetheart.

A murmur in the trenches - the medics are bringing back wounded. His heart jostles against his ribs, a painful thrill punctuating the bright hope that you’re safe and coming back to him, but he can’t leave his post unmanned.

“Robins!” Bucky hisses as loud as he dares. “Pssst! Robins!”

“Sarge?” The young lad is eager and bright-eyed when he crouches in the mud, somehow unbroken by the countless days, the cold, and the horror of war.

“You got your rifle?” The boy is a good enough marksman for this job in the calm between assaults, Bucky thinks. “Good! Cover my spot for a while. Abe will relieve you in an hour or so.”

The trenches are longer than he remembers them, and more sombre. The camaraderie is gone now, lost in moments that men claim for themselves; moments of peace to think about loved ones and home, and to dream, however brief it might be.

Bucky sees Dum Dum Duggan and his spirits lift. They greet each other in a jumble of gripped forearms and stout pats on the back.

“Have you seen Flo?” That’s what he calls you, after Florence Nightingale.

Dum Dum shakes his head. “Not since we went over the top.”

Dum Dum and little Jimmy Parsons from the 107th had both gone over with you, some of the medics and 8 other men, to search for wounded or to bring back the dead. That had been hours ago, when there were still sounds of fighting and gunshots in the distance. Now all is quiet but not everyone has come back.

As if Dum Dum can sense his panic, the ruddy-faced scoundrel claps him on the shoulder and leans in. “It’ll take more than Jerrys to keep her off your lap.”

It’s a crude joke designed to bring him relief, but all it does is remind him of the few tender moments you had both shared, and all the ones to come that may have been snuffed out of existence today in a cold field between two conflicting ideals that ultimately only brought death.

“That’s your Johnson talking.” Rolled eyes and a tired sigh tell Dum Dum his joke fell flat.

“And yours doesn’t?”

“Not when I’m neck deep in the crap and guts of guys we once knew.”

That’s a lie but Dum Dum needn’t know that. There hasn’t been any kind of hanky-panky, not even so much as a real kiss, just pecked cheeks, held gazes and the gentle stroke of his hand on your back in comfort. Bucky doesn’t need to get into your drawers to know there’s something between you both and he’s prepared to wait, but he ain’t half gonna be pissed if some Nazi goon puts a bullet in him before he’s known the pleasure of your soft lips.

The subject is forgotten in the crouching run through the rat warren of trenches and Dum Dum is silent, following dutifully as Bucky asks after you with everyone he passes. His whispered pleas for information are left unanswered by anything but the shake of a head and a grim expression.

Up ahead there’s a commotion. - someone is out in the field, moving slow. The scouts think it’s one of ours but they can’t be sure. The rifleman has his target, his gun is cocked and he’s ready to fire. Bucky watches the twitch of the man’s finger and he prays to all the gods that you’re not still out there, and if you are, that you’re not about to take a bullet.

He’s nervous, waiting for the shot. Mouth drier than mere hunger and thirst. Hands colder than from just a long, sleepless night, and there’s a tremor there, under the stress moistened skin of his palms. But the shot never comes. Hunger is forgotten, thirst inconsequential, and the warmth in his heart chases away the chill of dread when he finally catches a glimpse of you.

You’re filthy. The moss-green of your uniform is almost black with blood and dirt, it’s on your face and in your hair, and he prays that none of it is yours. Injured or not, you don’t care. You’re determined as you drag a man down into the trench, focused on getting him to safety, heaving him with all your strength until you both tumble down with a grunt. You’re a miracle, Bucky thinks, single-handedly dragging an injured man across the battlefield to safety through all of that destruction.

He’s almost there beside you, ready with a smile, but then he sees your face. You’re terrified, and now so is he; he’s never seen that look on your pretty face before, not even when you’re dodging mortars to reach men in bloody holes where their legs are no longer part of their bodily inventory.

You haven’t even seen him yet, rooted to the spot where he watches you stripping away the uniform of the man you brought home. You’ve already tried to stop the bleeding out in the field. The hastily applied bandages are soaked through and useless now, but you keep trying, fighting against the blood bubbling up from the man’s chest. There are so many gashes it looks like a game of tic-tac-toe and the poor fella is struggling for breath, chest rattling as he drowns in his own blood.

“There was an ambush.” You say, voice shaky like you can’t hold back the shock. “He saved my life.”

The man’s eyes are wide and glassy, and despite the horrified gurn on his face Bucky thinks him familiar if a little too, well, little to be going to war. Bucky is reminded of Steve for a moment, frail and small in stature, but this man isn’t Steve, he’s Jimmy. Little Jimmy Parsons.

Suddenly focused, Bucky is by your side in a flash, helping you put pressure on the wounds. You’re calm again now. The harrowing expression you wore is smoothed over with one of concentration. It’s funny how your roles reverse, now he’s the one panicking.

“Pass me some morphine.” You lay a gentle hand on his forearm. It’s bloody and there’s nothing gentle about the situation but your sudden serenity has a calming effect.

Bucky sits back on his heels and wipes at his sweaty brow with the back of his sticky red hand. He’d gone from Siberian permafrost to tropical rainforest in five minutes of adrenaline-fuelled panic, but he gives you what you asked for.

The little audience you’d gained now begin to disperse; they know what’s coming now and no one wants to see it, but Bucky and Dum Dum are the only family that Jimmy has here – the 107 are his family. Whoever waits for him at home won’t ever have to see this moment. It’ll be imagined but the truth of it never fully realised. No one wants to be alone at a time like this, no one wants to face the unknown without a hand to hold.

“Apparently, Jimmy got in front of her in time to get a knife in the gut.” Dum Dum whisperer hunkering down nearby. “Nazi scumbag went to town on the poor kid before she stabbed him through the neck. She must’ve known he wouldn’t make it but dragged him home anyway.”

Bucky nods, eyes never leaving you as you tend your ward.

“Some gal.” Its praise from Dum Dum, but is far from what you are. Bucky knows you’re so much more. He knows you’re not just something, you’re everything.

You’ve slipped down beside Jimmy and pulled him up so he’s resting in your lap. As you cradle him to you there’s a subtle thawing of his body. The rigidity of his agony is loosening, and his muscles relax, drooping his whole weight against you; the morphine has kicked in and if Bucky didn’t know better he’d say Jimmy sighed.

You’re humming a tune Bucky vaguely recognises but there are no words yet, only the soft melody as you stroke Jimmy’s hair and rock him subtly like he’s a child in your embrace.

“Nora?” Jimmy croaks, eyes rolling back leaving nothing but sickening white crescents beneath his fluttering lids.

“Shhhh.” You croon. “I’m here.” A tear slips past your lashes, streaking a line down to your jaw that’s cleaner than the rest of your face. You’re not his Nora, but her battlefield stand-in. “Rest now. You’re going to be fine.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze. He’s silently asking you if there’s anything that can be done to save the man. You answer with an almost imperceptible shake of your head; there’s nothing to do but soothe him until he passes.

Your humming picks up and now he knows the tune. He waits for the words to come because that’s the only time he hears you sing, to ease the passing of the fallen. You’re their nightingale, all of theirs, not just his, you’re there for them all but there’s a special place for you in his heart, and he in yours. And then you sing, soft and delicate, like a loving caress because this is the last time Jimmy will connect with the living; he should be loved.

Stars shining bright above you,

Night breezes seem to whisper I love you

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

Dream a little dream of me….

The wall of the trench is hard when Bucky’s back falls against it. In defeat he lets his head thud back and he watches you comfort his friend, with tears falling freely down your beautiful face.

Say night-ie-night and kiss me

Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me

While I’m alone and blue as can be

Dream a little dream of me….

You are like the Valkyrie, Bucky thinks, with an angelic voice you despatch the souls of the dying up to heaven while, with a gentle embrace, you sooth their battered bodies. He’d be lying if he hadn’t imagined the feel of your body against his, or would barter his left arm to make it real, but there was nothing in this life or the next that would make him want to take you away from his friend in this moment.

Stars fading but I linger on dear

Still craving your kiss

I longer to linger ‘til dawn dear

Just saying this….

Jimmy’s eyes are closed now and his rattling breaths stopped. If there’s anything left in him now he’ll hear you calling him through the dark towards the light where he’ll be at peace. There’ll be no more pain, not more war, no more fear, just him and what peaceful eternity awaits him on the other side.

You’re holding Bucky’s gaze as you sing, and he can see you’re breaking; your tears don’t stop but your voice barely waivers – this isn’t for you, it’s for Jimmy. There’s a plea in the way you’re looking at him, like you’re scared there’ll be no life after this war for either of you, like you know you both won’t make it. He’s scared too, but he’s not scared of dying, he’s scared of losing you. He doesn’t want to be left alone.

Sweet dreams ‘til sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me….

Bucky’s eyes fall closed now too, his tears held back in the soft grip of his lids. He lets the softness of your voice wash over him as you commit is friend and comrade unto the dark, a salve for his soul to ease his grief. You’re his nightingale in the bleakest of nights.

He tells himself he’ll hold you close, he no longer cares who sees; he wants to give something back to you, to sooth your breaking heart. He wants to commit you to memory before one of you is taken away.

After today, he’s no longer sure of anything except where there is darkness, you are the stars.

#marquiswrites100challenge #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #reader insert #1940s bucky barnes #ww2 bucky barnes #writing challenge #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #smut #smut fic #band au #young bucky barnes #my writing #cloudy's writing

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whats-the-story-tc · 4 years

Text

21st of April, 2020

"The One with the Fairy Tale"

(Pssst! If I were you, I'd read this post first before starting this new one!)

I cannot believe this is my life.

A couple minutes before the 8 AM rush hour, a Google Classroom notification from V arrived. Then another. Someone likes a spam, I thought, before opening the first one.

Sigh of relief. It was only the essay I'd already sent her. On to the next one, the detailed info on what we were covering today. The play on the table is both figuratively and literally a fairy tale. V, pretty critical of the play and its character work itself, made sure to bring one particular monologue to our attention, which tackles a rather difficult topic in a pretty simple play about love and longing — human mortality. "(It's my particular favourite, too, but don't let that influence you.)" She wrote after explaining what it was. The last paragraph though, now that was something else. "For those of you interested in an A level (here you imagine me looking at certain people)" she began, and my eyes widened as I read it. Sure, there are literature buffs in both classes, but... I can't help but think it was first and foremost an indirect to me. I mean, I'm probably the biggest nerd out of all of us, and she's always looking at me anyways... I want to dream big and say she wanted me to see it most. I mean, it's a link to an incredibly long essay. The situation speaks for itself.

"Look at this silence," V said as she entered our server at around 11 AM. Once she was here, we (as in all of us) started chatting about the break and quarantine. "It has been Sunday for two months." I declared, V immediately continuing the thought: "That part of Sunday, no less, where the line between the previous week and the next one blurs." Couldn't have said it better myself.

As V spoke about the story, I just leaned back on my bed, letting myself get immersed in the explanation and the sound of her voice while trying to imagine everything. After a while, it all started sounding like the plot of Mozart's opera, The Magic Flute — especially when V said that our protagonists, a human boy and a fairy girl, both had companions of the same sex along the way. And as soon as she said those companions are actually married, I waited for her to take a tiny break in speaking and said "How surprising." According to Bookworm Friend, she laughed, but I couldn't hear it clearly because someone made a noise. Then she said "Obviously..." and basically shaded the whole plot line, though I don't remember the rest of the sentence. And guess what she brought up immediately? That's right. The Magic Flute. I was floored! "That's what I was thinking, too!" I chimed in immediately. She took the words out of my mouth! And, soon as I said that, I got a text from Bandana Friend.

BanF: "Wow the twinning"

It's official, folks. Even from a distance, V and I are sharing a braincell.

Serious shit went down in class, including pointing out some... very suggestive imagery that caught us all off-guard because the thing she mentioned isn't inherently suggestive, but okay, V, you do you. (Obviously, I'm not going into detail here, nor sharing the conversation Bandana Friend and I had here because... this is simply not the platform.)

But what I can share is a really funny bit that caused a bit of a pandemonium in the separate class chat none of our teachers are in. You see, about half an hour into class, The Boyfriend sneezes with what is probably the volume of a medium-sized family house collapsing. About five seconds of absolute comical silence follows, then we just hear V saying "Sorry. I'm sorry." before carrying on. All this caused quite the stir, featuring texts like:

BanF: "The whole house just quaked"

and

Classmate: "Jesus who was this 😂😂"

Classmate: "Tell me it wasn't [V]"

S: "No, her man"

Classmate: "Good heavens I thought it was her 😂😂"

and

S: "I laughed so hard that I thank God I was on mute"

So yeah. That's on that. Bit later, with the words mentioned here, V ended class, and there I was, on Cloud 9, dancing around my room and humming Disney songs from the sudden serotonin charge. That was probably the moment I decided to read the play V spoke about. You see, she didn't assign it because the wording is quite difficult (the text is quite old) and students usually struggle with it, but she said that we wouldn't lose anything by reading it, if we wanted to. And thus it happened that I sat down on my balcony at around 5 PM with the first chapter open on my phone, ready to read.

I knew she'd be right. I trust her opinion and my reading comprehension skill suffers at the stake of my absolute inability to concentrate for longer than 10 seconds. But guys. Some of the longer sections I had to go over at least three times before I understood what was going on! An hour or so must've passed when I read the last line of the first chapter, and the butterflies in my stomach took flight. It was time to text V about it. It was my original plan, anyway. Figure out how right she was, then tell her about it. I was already incredibly nervous, trying to stick to what I'd planned on writing. My fingers typed on autopilot and as soon as I was done, I could barely believe I was actually going through with this. But alas, you only live once, carpe that fucking diem. One big breath. Two biiiiig breaths.

Send.

S: "Well, Miss, I'm not saying you were right about the text of [the play], but I've only read Chapter 1 and I'm already doubting if I even speak [my native tongue]... 😅"

I immediately tossed the phone on my bed and ran away panicking. What will she say? How will she react to seeing it's me again? What does she think? Am I funny enough? Am I bothering her? When will she reply?

Half a minute later (!!!), I see the icon of The Platform That Shall Not Be Named on my screen. No. No. No. Nonononononono. I picked the phone up and unlocked it with a shaking hand. I was not prepared for what I was about to read.

V: "Hahaha, well, babydoll...You do. You're just not used to [the old-timey wording]."

I only had the time to sink to my knees, eyes wide, lips agape, when the next message followed.

V: "Though, once you're already through it, I'm curious about your opinion on the play's stageability. 😄 (given such a word exists)"

You bet your asses all air left my lungs. Not only did she call me babydoll again, now in a way that I could forever remind myself of it, but she basically just prompted another conversation! She wants to talk to me again! And I'll have you reminded, V's basically trusting my judgement based on the scriptbook I showed her at the dawn of time, that she'd never actually seen in action! I wonder what I did to earn all this trust...

S: "I'll see at the end and tell you :)"

V: "Alright :))"

Then, all brave from the double smiley, I had a really stupid and impulsive thought. (Don't yell.) Me being the little shit that I am, I googled stageability and took a screenshot of no results having been found. I took a screenshot, cropped it and sent it to V, my head being completely empty as I did. I acted purely from gut feeling.

S: "Tough luck this time, it seems😄"

V: "i thought so!"

(I can only hope she took it as a joke. But, the way I know her, she probably understood. Still, the me of right now, exactly two days and two minutes later, wouldn't do it.)

And this is where it ended. This is where I ended. My hands, my legs, even my lips were trembling as I tried to process the sudden load of emotion overcoming me. What did I just do. What did we do. What happened here. All this just echoed in my head, and I went ahead and texted every friend I wanted to tell in all caps.

BanF: "WOAAHHHH"

BanF: "you guys have really warmed up to each other"

Even now, as I was typing, I got the chills just thinking about this conversation. If it wasn't for the 'Miss' and my use of formal pronouns in the very first text, it would've just felt like two friends, who happen to both love literature, talking. And this really warms my heart, because there's this fantastic woman, who I genuinely think is one of the best influences on my life and... she just likes me for me. She immediately answers when she can, comes off genuinely happy to talk to me, prompts another thing I can tell her about and all but tells me that my opinion matters to her. Because this is her. I'm almost convinced that I will never hear her outright say that she likes me or she's proud of me, but, should I have any doubts, she does everything to let me know. I just misunderstand her sometimes, not knowing where to look.

When I tell you all this still doesn't feel real...

~ S ♡

[Every story I share here, no matter how specific I get with my wording, depicts actual events from my own life.]

#tc #tcc #teacher crush community #female tc #female teacher crush

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ofstoriesandstardust · 5 years

Note

Lmao hi... Just saw your prompt list and I was wondering if you could write an imagine with Draco Malfoy with prompts 7,13,14,20,23,41&63. Ik they're a lot and they're pretty angsty so if you don't wanna I'll understand lol. x

A/N: Hi guys! Long-time no write. I’ve been on a Harry Potter binge lately so I dug through my requests to try and find this so I’d have something Harry Potter related to write. I hope you guys enjoy and make sure to request if you want! (pssst, if you want to request something, I’m more likely to write if it’s HP related.) Also, your House is not specified, so basically whatever House you belong to.

Word count: 2,603

Warnings: Angstttttttt, like four swear words

Prompts: #7: “Choose me or lose me. I’m not a backup plan and I’m definitely not a second choice.”

#13: “No matter how good your heart is, eventually you have to start treating people the way they treat you.”

#14: “I am sorry I have trust issues, but when you give someone everything and they throw it away, something inside of you breaks.”

#20: “You changed.”

#23: “You know what sucks? Being the one who always cares more.”

#41: “I will not let you undermine my worth.”

#63: “I wish you were dead.”

What Once Was

Your POV

All summer you had agonized over coming back to Hogwarts. With the recent return of You-Know-Who, your parents had practically refused to let you go back, saying you were unsafe in the place you loved so much. You had begged and pleaded with your parents, wanting nothing more than to pursue your education and rejoin your friends and boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Eventually, they wore down and relented but by the time they agreed to let you return in the fall, you were unsure if the return was the right choice. You took solace in the fact that your friends were facing the same argument with their parents, but your boyfriend had been pulling further and further away from you, as letters became fewer and farther in between. When he did write, the contents of letters became small, and the wording took a rather abrupt turn from the affectionate tone his writing usually had to a cold, distant tone. You figured he was having a particularly hard summer, what with his father going to Azkaban and the very public trial that had preceded it. You had offered your support, but he refused to talk about his feelings with you or really anything that was occurring in his life. You held out hope that once you returned to the school to start your sixth year, things would return to normal and Draco would share all the things he had been withholding from you. As you waved goodbye to your parents on Platform 9 ¾, your hopeful eyes searched for the pale boy with the platinum blonde hair. Unable to spot him, you trudged onto the train and headed towards the compartment the Slytherin Prince and his buddies usually occupied. By sheer luck, there he sat, staring out at the quickly moving scenery as Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle, all sat around and chatted, presumably about their summer vacations. You cleared your throat to make your presence known. All heads turned to you, but the only one who truly mattered took a few moments to draw his view away from the window. He briefly glanced at you and turned back to the window. Blaise gave you a sympathetic smile and offered you a hug. You accepted, and as you were hugging Blaise he whispered into your ear, “Don’t take it to heart, he’s been in a foul mood all morning.” You nodded against his shoulder, still unable to figure out why your boyfriend was working so hard to stay so distant. He pulled away and offered you another smile, for which you were grateful for. Blaise was the only one from Draco’s group that you truly considered a friend. “How was your summer holiday?”

You shrugged in your response. “It was alright. Mum and Dad almost didn’t let me come back.” Blaise raised his eyebrows. “Anyways, I just wanted to stop in and say hello. I’m gonna go find my friends.” You stated in a rush, desperate to get away from the uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. You waved goodbye to the group and exited the Slytherin area of the train. You walked further down the hall in an attempt to find a friendly face or someone from your house. Anyone who would take your mind of the storm currently raging through it. You stumbled upon the compartment where Griffyindors Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom sat. You noted Dean’s arm around Ginny and could only imagine the tantrum Ron would be throwing if he saw them. You opened the door. “Mind if I sit in here?” They all shook their heads and Neville and Seamus made room for you to sit down in between them. You graciously accepted.

“How was your summer holiday (Y/N)?” Ginny asked, offering you a friendly smile. You shrugged.

“Fairly awful. Mum and Dad said I shouldn’t be coming back to Hogwarts; that it wasn’t safe anymore.” You retold, pulling a knee up to your chest, trying to get comfortable for the long ride that ahead of you.

“Mum said the same thing. Said we had no business going back. Ron and I had to practically beg her for weeks to convince it was safe here.” Ginny told you, leaning into Dean’s side.

You let out a chuckle. “Sounds familiar. So you guys are together now?” You asked as your eyes moved between Ginny and Dean. Ginny blushed as she nodded, looking down at her lap. “So how big of a fit did Ron throw when he found out?” At that, the entire compartment burst into laughter and thus began the rest of the train ride, filled with laughter and jokes that made you momentarily forget the gray cloud hanging over the train, particularly the one hanging over a one Draco Malfoy.

Throughout the feast and Sorting ceremony, your boyfriend had disappeared. As much as you tried, you could not find him at the Slytherin table. You signed yourself to eating and participating in the conversation surrounding you half-heartedly. Towards the end of the meal, you watched from your seat as a couple of moments after Draco entered the Great Hall, Harry and Luna followed, Harry sporting a fresh bloody nose. You had a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you realized Draco was probably the one who gave him that. After the feast, you tried to catch your boyfriend before he took off for the dungeons but Draco left the Great Hall and disappeared into the sea of students before you were even able to get close to him. You sighed and headed towards your House, wanting to get away from people as quickly as possible. The next few weeks went about the same way, despite the fact that you shared most of your classes with Draco. He seemed hardly focused in class, very on edge and mind clearly in a different world. You watched him at meals, you know, when he actually decided to show, and he was cold and distant, uninterested in the going-ons of the castle. He was clearly losing weight and the dark circles under his eyes only seemed to grow larger by the day. As time went on though, your concern evolved into anger. Why was he doing this? Why was he shutting you out? Did the last two years mean absolutely nothing to him? You began to take his distance personally. If he didn’t have enough balls to break up with you to your face (because why else would he act like this??), you were going to let him know that you had had enough. The trick was just now to catch him alone. Or to get him to talk to you at all. It was the end of October before you were able to get him alone. It was the day of the Halloween feast, and while the entire castle was downstairs buzzing with joy, all you wanted was to crawl into bed. You had a god awful day and the last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by others at the feast. You headed in the direction of your Common Room when you caught him. He was exiting the fourth-floor boy’s lavatory, rubbing his eyes furiously. As much anger as you had, some of it seemed to ebb away at the disheveled sight of him. “Draco?” You called out to him. He brought his gaze to you and actually stopped. As you reached him, you reached for his hand. He pulled away as if your touch stung him. Your heart fell, as the thoughts of the end of your love clouded your brain. “Draco what’s going on with us? What’s going on with you?” He shrugged, refusing to make eye contact with you. “Draco, love, I want to be here for you, but I can’t if you won’t open up to me.” He again chose to remain silent. Your anger quickly filled you again. “Well, you know what, Draco Malfoy, I’m done being treated like this. Choose me or lose me. I’m not a backup plan and I’m definitely not a second choice. It’s time you made the choice about where we stand because I’m not doing this anymore.” You stated harshly and quickly spun on your heel towards to Great Hall, wanting to put as much distance as possible between you and the boy who was tearing you apart.

As you entered the Great Hall the next morning, you spotted Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Harry had pulled you aside just a few days prior to ask about Draco but you had no answers to give. None of your friends were currently in the Great Hall, and you wanted to stay as far away from the Slytherin table as possible. As you neared the trio, their attention shifted from their conversation to you. “Do you mind if I sit here?” They shook their heads and Ron scooted over to make room for you next to him.

“Everything alright?” Hermione questioned with a look full of concern on her face. You shook your head.

“Just needed a friendly face is all.” Harry nodded and gave you a smile as they turned back to the discussion of the latest Potions assignment. You lost yourself in your bowl of cereal as you thought of the events from the previous night. You were so distracted that your brain barely registered someone sitting down next to you. You looked up to see Blaise Zabini looking extremely displeased.

“What the hell did you say to Draco last night?” He asked you angrily.

“Why does it matter to you?” You shot back.

“It matters to me because he’s my friend and he’s your boyfriend-” Blaise started but you cut him off.

“Maybe it’s hard for you to understand in that pea-sized brain of yours Zabini, but Draco Malfoy hasn’t given me the time of day in five months and most certainly doesn’t act like he’s my boyfriend. I am sorry I have trust issues, but when you give someone everything and they throw it away, something inside of you breaks. So no, I’m not sorry for what I said to him. I deserve a whole hell of a lot better than what he’s been giving me lately. For the last two years, I have defended him, gone to bat for him, being endlessly loyal to him, sometimes to my own detriment and he treats me like the dirt under his feet. I refuse to be treated that way. Not anymore, not ever again.” By the time you were done speaking, you were hyper-aware of the looks you were gathering from other tables. Blaise lowered his voice.

“(Y/N), you made him cry.” The comment took you aback but only for a moment.

“Good.” You hissed, standing up from the table. “Maybe now he’ll actually start giving a damn about me.” As you turned your back on Blaise, you saw Draco standing a few feet away from you. You paused only for a second and then promptly shoved past him and out of the Great Hall.

That night, the halls of the castle seemed empty as you made your way out of the library. You had stayed to study until Madam Pince had nearly kicked you out. You had a big Ancient Runes test tomorrow, and on top of it being your hardest class, you felt so unprepared what with the events of the last 24 hours. You let out a yawn when you suddenly felt yourself being pulled into an empty classroom. You nearly panicked and raised your wand as you saw Draco standing there. His eyes looked bloodshot and he looked more exhausted and disheveled than you had ever seen anyone else. He looked as if he was the mere remains of the person he once was. He ran his hands through his hair, once, twice, three times. You watched him fall apart, not knowing how to feel. “What happened to us?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. You shrugged and sucked a breath in through your teeth.

“You changed.” He let out a whimper at your response. For the first time in months, he looked at you. You felt a surge of emotion. Now that after all these months you finally had his attention and you were going to let him know exactly what you had been thinking. “You changed Draco. I don’t know what you want me to say to you. You pulled away and treated me like shit. You’ve barely spoken to me since last term.”

“You don’t understand, I had to-”

“Bullshit. You just didn’t want me anymore.”

“That’s not true-”

“Yes it is Draco!” You exclaimed. A silence fell over the both of you and you took a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself as tears came to your eyes. “You know what sucks? Being the one who always cares more. I’m so sick and tired of being the one who cares in this relationship. I have been endlessly loyal to you, I stood up for you, I have lost friends because of my devotion to you and this is what I get in return?” Draco remained quiet. “I will not let you undermine my worth. I refuse to. I am a damn good person and an even better girlfriend and you don’t deserve me.” Draco’s face contorted in pain as you spoke.

“You’re right, I don’t deserve you. I just love you so much, I just had to.”

“You love me so much that you just had to treat me like garbage? Right because that makes so much sense-”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” He screamed and you winced and took a couple of steps back. A couple of tears slipped down his face. He reached for your hand. You flinched but did not pull away. “You don’t understand, I had to. I had to protect you. I had to protect you from him.”

“Draco, what- what are you talking about?” Shakily, he pulled his hand from yours and lifted his sleeve. As the fabric was moved away, you saw something you wished you hadn’t. One look at the mark that had caused so much pain, grief, and death, a mark that represented all the evil and darkness within the world and-

“I wish you were dead.”

As you sat at the Burrow over the Christmas holiday, you watched the Weasley family and chat and enjoy the cheer. You watched as the twins showed off a new product to Ginny as Ron turned to you. “Hey (Y/N), what ever did end up happening between you and Malfoy?” You thought back to that night, his anguished cries that haunted you as you left the classroom. You stared into the fire as you thought about what to say. Ultimately you just shrugged.

“We broke up.” You said simply. The attention shifted from the joke product to you.

“How come?” Hermione asked softly. You shook your head and swallowed your tears.

“No matter how good your heart is, eventually you have to start treating people the way they treat you.” Silence fell across the room as Tonks and Remus studied you fiercely. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You stated, standing up. You pushed past the twins, escaping to the front porch. You sat down and looked up at the stars. You wiped away the invisible tears on your face. As you thought of the boy you once loved, you did not know he was looking out at the same stars thinking of the girl who once loved him.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter

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