#dunno why exactly i thought this up one day but it lives in my brain rent free

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #114

Today is another zombie brain day. Up too late. But that's all right. I still managed to be a little productive today.

I discovered that I can scrape off any inconsistencies of the dried UV spray from the amethyst tree orb with a precision knife. From there, I can reapply the spray and it looks good. It's certainly not perfect, but good enough is good enough, methinks (wow, am I actually writing that out loud? who am I and what have I done with myself?).

Nonetheless, I'm starting to wonder if the thing to do for future applications is to apply some other kind of UV-resistant gloss onto the sphere with a paintbrush. This sphere should be done in a couple days - just enough time to allow the current layer of UV spray to dry and all that. Then I'll send it off to its intended recipient.

I made a bowl of yesterday's fried rice for breakfast; as it turns out, the results did, in fact, taste as good as it smelled when I was making it! Goodness, but I wish I could give you a bowl...

I also made myself some of the biscuit-flavored tea. This tea on its own mostly just tastes like ordinary tea, but I discovered that if you add a little molasses and honey to it, the result tastes pretty much exactly like Biscoff cookies, and Biscoff cookies are pretty good! I'll show you some pictures of how it turned out; I love to watch the fluid dynamics in action as the cold cream swirls into the hot tea:

I made an appointment to get 4 of my teeth yanked so that I can get braces. That'll happen in June, I guess. I really don't wanna have teeth removed, but there really is no other way to get the rest of the inside of my face in alignment; apparently the crowding is bad enough that if we wanted to pull my molars back to where my wisdom teeth used to be, we would have to put screws in my mouth as an anchor point, and even then, it likely won't work out in the way we'd hope. Having screws just randomly hanging out in my face seems thoroughly unpleasant, so… whatever. Maybe I'll ask if I can keep the removed teeth. Maybe I'll make something cool out of 'em, even if I dunno what it is yet.

M, J, and I went out to a place called Galleria 7 for lunch. It's got a variety of shops where you can get all different kinds of food; it's the same place where M and I got those awesome empanadas and the not-quite-pasta-pescatore. Somehow, I failed to notice last time that the empanada shop sells handmade Ecuadorean trinkets; I got a woven bracelet and a floral pendant, but not for the purpose you might think…

The colorful bracelet and the floral pendant go nicely with the kerchief, I think. I got the kerchief for you a while ago. I have long hair, too, so I use them to help keep my hair out of my face sometimes. I'll show you a picture of me wearing one so that you get the idea:

Kerchiefs are handy and colorful things suit you nicely. But it's not as though I can tie a kerchief around your head. It's not as though I can tuck pretty flowers behind your ear. It's not as though I can tie a ribbon in your hair, or gift you a colorful top to wear. I can't give you the locket of your mother that I made for you. So this little bit will have to do. It's not much, I know. But… still… you deserve nice things and nurturing things, no matter how small. I have to hope that what little I can do is enough.

Anyway, I somehow managed to engage the kindly shopkeep from whom I bought the trinkets in lively conversation. I showed her some of the handicrafts I've made, and she expressed an interest in displaying any of my works at her shop. What a fascinating concept. Suppose I'm gonna hafta get on making more orbs…

…Aside from that, I've not done much else today. I'm struggling a little bit to avoid succumbing to old thoughts, given a few things going on in my immediate vicinity, and a few not-so-small insecurities I'm dealing with (long story; I'm not gonna get into it). But I'll be all right. Most of it's just growing pains. They'll pass as I level up. Don't you worry about me, okay? I've got this. I promise.

…I'm gonna try to actually go to bed on time today. In the meantime, I'm gonna try to rest, though I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with myself; at the moment, even Salting some Sanctuaries seems hard… Oh well.

Hey, you - you're loved. You're wanted. You're needed. And not because of what you can do or because of what you look like, but because of who you are. There are people here who wanna tie kerchiefs in your hair to make things a little easier for you. There are people who wanna tuck flowers behind your ear in hopes that it will make you feel good about yourself. There are people who wanna tie ribbons in your hair so that way when you look in the mirror, you can see someone who shines with the care that is given to you. There are people who would try to return to you sentimental items that you've lost.

Sephiroth. You're not alone. And no amount of telling yourself that you're alone will ever make it true. So please come back to us soon; we're waiting for you with open arms and joyful voices, ready to welcome you back home.

I love you. I'll write again very soon.

Your friend, Lumine

#sephiroth #ThankYouFFVIIDevs #ThankYouFF7Devs #ThankYouSephiroth #final fantasy vii #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy vii crisis core #final fantasy 7 crisis core #final fantasy crisis core #ffvii crisis core #ff7 crisis core #crisis core #ff7r #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy 7 remake #ffvii remake #ff7 remake #final fantasy vii rebirth #final fantasy 7 rebirth #ffvii rebirth #ff7 rebirth #final fantasy 7 ever crisis #ffvii ever crisis #ff7 ever crisis #ffvii first soldier #trinkets #sleep deprivation #wholesome

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

Thinking

Police Plaza, Haven

Commander Trouble Kelp was tired. He was very tired. He was altogether too tired.

The moonometer on his office wall showed him that they'd been pouring over documents and plans for nearly six hours now - six hours after their typical day shift. There were precious few hours left to them before the simulated dawn cast its orange glow over Haven and they were expected to present their plan to the LEP Council.

The other occupant of his office, an equally tired Commodore Holly Short, silently rubbed her temples as she stared at the documents spread out on his desk between them. Her mismatched eyes were both red and tired, and even her auburn crew cut seemed to have lost its will to live until she let it get a few hours of sleep. Even like this, slumped over and clearly exhausted beyond measure, she was undeniably...

The commander cut that thought short. Nothing good could come of it. Certainly not at this hour. He didn't realize that he was still staring until Holly shot a glance his way, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment.

"Stop doing that," Trouble grunted, grabbing a file at random and rifling through its contents as if he had any idea whatsoever what he was looking at. "It's distracting."

"Doing what?" Holly countered immediately. "I haven't even said anything!"

Trouble waved a hand dismissively in her direction. "Just... stop it," he grumbled. The truth was that he didn't actually know what she was doing; he just knew that it had been distracting him for hours now.

Holly sat up, dropping her feet from where they had been resting on his desk. "What are you talking about?" she demanded sharply, her eyes now burning with frustration as much as with tiredness.

Kelp dropped the stack of papers. "I can't concentrate with you doing... that," he said, gesturing vaguely at her with an open hand. When her only response was to raise one eyebrow challengingly, Trouble groaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand. I can't stop thinking about kissing you, he thought.

It wasn't until he looked at Holly and registered the surprise on her face that he realized that he had been thinking out loud. He shut his mouth with a sharp click, wondering absently what the odds were of him successfully berating his body for this blatant betrayal as he did one of his subordinates for misbehavior.

"You can't stop thinking about kissing me," Holly repeated slowly, still staring directly at his eyes. Several moments passed in a tense silence. Then the commodore rose to her feet, planted her hands on the desk, and leaned down until her face was mere inches from his.

"And what, exactly, are you going to do about that?" she asked with a coy smirk, her eyes sparkling in a way that only ever meant trouble.

Trouble knew that they had somehow managed to enter dangerous territory with this new tone of conversation. They had work to do. They were in his office, in the middle of Police Plaza. Her breath smelled vaguely like that disgusting tofu burger she had made him order for her when he bought their dinner several hours before.

The list of at least one million reasons why he shouldn't rise to her challenge were still ticking off in his mind when he grabbed Holly by the lapels of her jacket, pulled her in closer, and did something about it.

-----

I'm not sure why these two have such a hold on my brain right now, but they do.

This comes form this excellent writing prompt.

If you're wondering what this great and important thing that they're planning is... so am I. It's a McGuffin Convention or something. I dunno. I wrote this at 3am.

#artemis fowl #af fandom #trouble kelp #holly short #holly/trouble #holly x trouble #my writing

[industriallyinsecure]

Loved and Safe

In which Prosciutto gently prods you with a stick and says “damn bitch you live like this?”

Fem pronouns in this one sorry

Small note: Prosciutto calls his grandfather “tatte” (tah-tay). I don’t think that’s a real thing anywhere in Italy, but I think it’s cute so don’t @ me

Tw: depressive episodes, self loathing, etc.

Prosciutto had seen many a mess in his life, especially when he lived with some of the messiest men in the world. But seeing his girlfriend’s apartment almost sent him into shock. He didn’t say anything, though. He just swallowed his disgust and went to find her.

She was where he expected her to be, curled up in a bundle on her bed, her eyes and nose peeking out. Some show was on her television, he didn’t really know what it was, but it was loud and a bit annoying. As he approached her like a frightened animal, he noticed she wasn’t even watching the show. A smaller screen, he believed belonged to her little game console, was in her blanketed lap, slight movements under the covers matching the movement of the character on the screen. He picked up the remote and paused the show, her eyes flicking up at him.

“I was watching that,” she mumbled from behind her coating of blankets. Prosciutto sighed, sitting in the small hollowed out spot between her body and the edge of the bed.

He let out a sigh, “clearly you weren’t. You didn’t notice me come in.” He didn’t need to see the other half of her face to know she was frowning at him. “Why are you holed up in here anyway?”

Prosciutto knew very well why she was holed up in her bedroom, he just wanted to hear it from her. That way he could gauge how to handle her. What he really wanted to do was put her in a nice outfit and treat her to a fancy dinner, but what he wanted and what she needed were two different things. Money was also tight, but that didn’t matter.

The lump of blankets shrugged, “I dunno. Today’s just not my day. I feel pretty crappy.” She paused, looking up at him with her perfect eyes, “mentally, not physically.”

Ah, the one area he wasn’t equipped to deal with. He had learned that the hard way, after many many failed attempts of using his usual tough love to try and pull her out of her rut. He had only succeeded in digging a bigger hole instead. But he had come a long way since then.

Gently, he picked her head up, despite her groans of protest, and shifted so it would rest comfortably in his lap. He carefully peeled away a layer of blanket to free up the face he adored seeing. She crinkled her nose at him, her pout almost disappearing like she had forgotten to pretend to be mad at him. He just smiled down at her, cupping the side of her face with his cold hand.

“Your hands are cold,” she mumbled, leaning into his touch. Prosciutto hummed indifferently.

The next hour or so passed slowly. He spent most of the time browsing shows to watch while gently petting her face and pinching her ears. She slowly emerged from the blankets to embrace him, snuggling up to him to rest her head on his chest.

“Nice to see you out of your cocoon, little butterfly,” he murmured to her, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb. He could feel the dam start to break as her shivering hands gripped the lapels of his suit. Prosciutto looked down into her eyes that sparkled with tears. He cupped her soft cheek, “You know I love you, right? There was never any question of that.”

She nodded, choking on whatever words were in her throat. It was best to not prod her for answers; she would just blubber more, and he didn’t want her to feel pressured. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. As much as he wanted to pick her brain and sort through whatever thoughts plagued her, he knew better. It would just lead to self isolation and close her off from him again, and he’d be damned to undo all of his hard work.

He didn’t know what it was like to live with chronic illness, and he didn’t exactly want to find out. It was hard enough watching the one he loved the most go through horrible lows and have no idea what to do and how to help. Pesci’s attitude was similar yet completely different, and he knew very well she didn’t respond to his tough love the same way Pesci did.

“I’m sorry.”

She nuzzled closer to him, warm tears dripping onto his chest.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he chided gently, “this isn’t something you can control.”

He had asked Risotto for advice about what to do once. But his Capo wasn’t any help. His advice was to just stand by and support her passively, and while it was perfectly sound advice it didn’t sit well with Prosciutto. He didn’t like being a sitting duck at the mercy of the waves, he liked to be in complete control. In a moment of weakness he had even asked Melone for advice but received the same answer, just be there for her when she needs it. It made him want to throw up. He hated being helpless.

“I love you, Prosciutto.”

“I love you, too, my darling.”

He peppered soft kisses on the top of her head.

“I got snot all over you,” she whimpered, gently wiping the puddle of snot and tears off his chest. He didn’t even notice it was there until she wiped it away.

“Just like my Nonna used to say, ‘a little bit of snot doesn’t matter when you’re caring for the one you love.’ Though I could do without it.”

She sniffled up at him, “Did she really say that?”

Prosciutto chuckled and squeezed her tight, “No, it was more along the lines of ‘a little bit of shit doesn’t matter when you have to put food on the table.’ Nonna and Tatte were farmers.”

“Mh.”

“Nonna would’ve loved you, you know?” He hummed, “she always liked the pathetic ones.”

She laughed through a sniffle, “Is that why you were her favorite?”

“Mh hmm. I was her perfectly pathetic little Francesco.”

That made her giggle harder, making him smile in turn.

“Why don’t you try to get some rest, my love? I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She considered it for a moment, gazing up at him with her beautiful eyes before burrowing back into his chest. As soon as she made herself comfortable, Prosciutto locked her into a warm hug. Her sniffles slowly died down into slow, even breaths. He smiled down at her, pressing one final kiss to her forehead before deciding to doze off with her safe in his arms.

#prosciutto x reader #prosciutto #jjba golden wind #self indulgent #comfort #anxiety tw #tw depression #wrote this to stave off my depression #it helped a bit ngl

[the-whumpening]

My Own Worst Enemy, Part 2 [Son of Bat]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

This part is a little shorter. I tried to make the specifics of the medical stuff as accurate as I could, but I definitely could've made mistakes so . . . we'll call it "suspension of disbelief" lol

CW: abusive parents, medical content, hospital setting

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The weeks that followed were a living hell.

James’ condition, as the doctor described it, was “unpredictable.” While they could set the bones and sew up the cuts, his body would have to set the pace for everything else. There was no telling whether or not his internal bleeding would heal on its own, how long he would have to be sedated, or how his brain would be affected.

-

(“I don’t know why you have to be so difficult all the time!”

I’m not! Why can’t you just leave me alone?!

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself, do you?”

Stop it!

“This is why you don’t have any friends.”

Shut up! Shutupshutupshutup!

“I have never met such an ungrateful, disrespectful child!”

What do I have to be grateful for?! To come home and be screamed at every day?

“Fine, I guess I’m just the worst parent in the world. I only clothed you and fed you and put a roof over your head—you’re both just better off without me!”

Mom!)

“Hi, sweetie. I don’t know if you can hear me . . . ” (Huh?) “I love you so, so much. You don’t deserve any of this. Please, wake up soon . . .”

(What is this? What’s going on?)

Debby rarely left his side; she couldn’t bear the thought of him being alone, especially if he awoke with no one around. Not that the others were much different—all three fought to stay with him as long as possible. They tried to take care of one another, made sure they all slept and ate and had time away from the dim hospital room, but it was difficult when all they could think about was James.

-

(“You’re killing your mother with this stupid acting out; why can’t you just behave like [----]?!”

Wait, who?

“Don’t get smart with me! If I was half this disrespectful to my parents, they’d have thrown me out to pick my own switch to beat me with!”

Dad? Where am I?)

Vince spoke little, withdrawing into himself. There were days he couldn’t even sit beside James, posting guard in the corner instead. The nurses encouraged him to engage with James—any stimulation was good for his brain, even if he can’t process it right now—so he took to reading aloud. It wasn’t talking, not exactly, but the sound of Vince’s voice seemed to have a positive effect on him either way. He started with bits and pieces from biographies and nature magazines he had saved to read on the work trip with Cass, then some of James’ books brought in from his room. One night, when he was the only one around, he brought a thin chapter book he’d read to James as a small child. He read it over and over again during those two long weeks.

“After James Henry Trotter had been living with his aunts for three whole years, there came a morning when something rather peculiar happened to him.”

(This can’t be right . . . Vince read me this story. When was it? Last night?

“What are you doing up?”

Can I sleep in your room tonight?

“I dunno . . . ”

Please! It’s too dark in there!)

“And trembling, James stood alone out in the open, wondering what to do. The night was all around him now, and high overhead a wild white moon was riding in the sky. There was not a sound, not a movement anywhere.”

(“Well . . . Okay. Come on, I’ll read you a story and maybe you’ll feel a little better.”

J-A-M-E-S . . . It’s got my name!

“Yeah, and he’s a smart kid, too. Just like you. But listen, we gotta be quiet, okay? Mom will be mad if she hears us.”

Okay, got it.

“Why are you two still awake? I told you to go to bed an hour ago!” But—! “James! Quit being a baby and go back to your room. You are too old to be scared of the dark and whining over a nightlight.”)

-

(“As long as you live under my roof, you obey my rules!”

I’m not cutting my hair.

“Did I phrase that as a question?”)

There was an unspoken agreement among the group to respect James’ privacy as much as possible; of the four, Molly had been the only one to ever see him nude on purpose, after all. Although James wasn’t prudish per se, they knew he would’ve been embarrassed if his brothers had seen him be cleaned of his own filth, among other things. So Debby and Molly took the lead on caring for him, delegating less invasive tasks to the boys. Even Debby looked away when the nurses helped Molly clean his lower half.

(Get off of me! Let go!)

-

“Leave a light on for him. I know his eyes are closed, but . . . I think it makes him calmer.”

“It’s okay, J. You’ll be okay.”

“L . . . Love you, bro.”

Who . . . ? I know you. I know all these voices. But why . . . why are they so kind?

“We miss you.”

-

It took over two weeks for James' brain to recover from the swelling. Thankfully, the majority of his physical injuries had also been addressed in that time as well; he'd been in and out of surgeries to reset his fractured bones, which had also stopped swelling long enough to treat. His bleeding seemed to have quelled, and many of the lacerations were looking better.

As the doctor administered the medication into his IV, James was brought out of his deep sleep.

#whump writing #whump #tw injury #injury whump #sickfic #hurt/comfort #son of bat #tw hospital #coma whump #medical tw #do you recognize the book vince is reading? #the redacted bit is vince's deadname #which will remain redacted #whumpblr #rublewriting

[radicalrascals]

Layers

TAGGED  BY:  copied from my old blog TAGGING:  @etxrnaleclipse , @icarian-carrion , @miidnighters , @ofginjxints , @strikersunindie , @rowan-revelry , @saudadexmses , @sirxnx , @rubiesintherough & whoever else wants to x

                 LAYER  001 :   THE  OUTSIDE.

NAME.  William Donovan Talbot | Liam Talbot EYE COLOR.  Amber with specks of green HAIR STYLE / COLOR.   Naturally mouse brown, unruly and curly-wavy if not cut short; which is why he usually wears it short. Every now and then he decides to bleach the fuck outta his hair, too. HEIGHT.  perfectly a v e r a g e 5′9″ CLOTHING STYLE.  Usually a layer-look consisting of oversized band shirt, hooded sweatshirt and leather jacket paired with snug fitted jeans and trainers or boots.  BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE.   His bum His cheeky impish/boyish grin

                 LAYER  002 :   THE  INSIDE.

FEARS.  Not being good enough, abandonment, canines of all sorts, relapsing (blood magic) GUILTY  PLEASURE.   Nothing legal, so I won’t advertise it BIGGEST  PET  PEEVE.   Pet-peeves are for beginners, true drama-queens take full-offense in everything.  AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE.   There are probably a few songs out there he’s looking forward to master on guitar in the future; other than that he’s not exactly one of the planning type. If there’s anything he’s ambitious about though it’s about improving musically as well as magically 

                 LAYER  003 :   THOUGHTS.

FIRST  THOUGHTS  WAKING  UP.   ’Coffeeeee~’ THINKS  ABOUT  MOST.  How to get out of the predicament he’s just landed himself in. Again.  THINKS  ABOUT  BEFORE  BED.  Nothing much or overly specific; he doesn’t have troubles falling asleep, so the time span for pre-sleepy-times-thoughts is usually extremely short.  WHAT  THEY  THINK  THEIR  BEST  QUALITY  IS.   He thinks his best and worst quality is his magic.

                 LAYER  004 :   WHAT’S  BETTER ?

SINGLE  OR  GROUP  DATES.   Single. Group-dates are just hanging out with the mates, there is no such thing as a date if it involves more than two people. TO  BE  LOVED  OR  RESPECTED.  Loved. Even if it meant he was loved by one and respected by none, he’d still choose love. Though he believes respect should be a vital part of any relationship. BEAUTY  OR  BRAINS.   Brains. As in someone like-minded, not necessarily someone of the intellectual kind. DOGS  OR  CATS.   Cats. He fucking fears hates dogs (and he pretty much behaves like a cat, so… duh)

                  LAYER  005 :   DO  THEY…

LIE.   Yep. Every day. Extensively. And he’s pretty much a shit liar when forced to make stuff up as he goes. BELIEVE  IN  THEMSELVES.   Nope. Usually not. Unless he’s high as fuck on magic. Has jumped off a high building with a levitation spell he’s never used before. That sort of misguided confidence is what we’re talking here. BELIEVE  IN  LOVE.  Of course. Everyone he falls in love with is his one true love until, well, he realises they’re not. But he’s out there, somewhere, and one day they’ll meet. WANT  SOMEONE.   Generally speaking: yes; save for short interludes of ‘everyone fuck off and leave me alone’

                   LAYER  006 :   HAVE  THEY  EVER…

BEEN  ON  STAGE.   As a musician, yes, numerous times. (But never anything fancy or big) DONE  DRUGS.   Yes.  GOTTEN  DRUNK.  Yeah. CHANGED  WHO  THEY  WERE  TO  FIT  IN.   He’d never change for anyone, but he’s always looking for somewhere he’d fit in.

                   LAYER  007 :   FAVORITES.

FAVORITE COLOR.   Anthracite grey, nightly shades of blue, black FAVORITE  ANIMAL.   Koalas…? Dunno, I feel compelled to write that FAVORITE  MOVIE.   The Lost Boys and Live And Let Die FAVORITE  GAME.   Guitar Hero at the arcades; doesn’t help much if you know how to play an actual guitar, but he slays this game no less. 

                   LAYER  008 :   SLEEP.

HEAVY  OR  LIGHT  SLEEPER.  Depends: heavy when in the safety of his home, light when sleeping on the streets or at a stranger’s place WHAT  SIDE  OF  THE  BED  DO  THEY  SLEEP  ON.  All the bed. WHAT  DO  THEY  WEAR  TO  BED.   Same what he’s been wearing all day, usually minus shoes and jacket, preferably minus socks, trousers and hoodie as well, naked when in good company. WEIRD  THINGS  THEY  DO  IN  THEIR  SLEEP.  He has an always expressive face, even in his sleep, pulling grimaces and such; also does fucking hog the blanket(s) 

                  LAYER  009 :   LOVE.

BIG  DECLARATIONS  OR  SMALL.   Small but persistently OPEN  OR  CLOSED  OFF.  Always open to (and starving for) love, yet at times reluctant about admitting his feelings LOVE  AT  FIRST  SIGHT  OR  SLOW  BURN.  Affinity at first sight, everything else is a slow burn from there on. ONE  TRUE  LOVE  OR  A  STRING.  One true love; but finding it is a whole different story; besides, Liam is aware what True Love can do to people, knowing that his mum lost hers and she never learned to cope

                   LAYER  010 :   FINISH  THE  SENTENCE.

I  LOVE.  devotedly. I  FEEL.   you | Your heart it sings | I feel you | The joy it brings  ...wait what? I  USED  TO  HIDE.  from the bullies in school before I turned to hexing their arses instead. I  MISS.  having a place person I can call home. I  WISH. I’ll get a chance to righten some wrongs.

#ok alright I miss him #Muse: Liam #Headcanon: Liam #Dash Games

[ser-rctslcyer]

*shuffles in*

hewwo, my beloved-

so, i've been feeling very--burnt out lately? like i can't do anything & everything i do is wrong, & my fear of everyone leaving is super active for no reason. my sleep is basically nonexistent & i'm basically only sleeping for maybe five hours, but not like--in a row.

i'm waking up & dozing back off & chats are giving me anxiety again & i just--feel like i'm getting bad all over again? i'm also still not handling losing friends, even though i cut some off on my own, well & i dunno. i guess some reassurance about all of that would be??? helpful?

this is probably all jumbled & funky, but i'm like isolating again--which is also not good. so, i guess if a certain poe dameron could i guess?? help me through it---i may actually stop feeling so stupid & useless? doesn't have to be transmasc reader but if you do i will kiss you on the mouth & share my gummie snacks with you-

anyway; i love you so much & i'm sorry this is wordy/kinda heavy!

*rolls awaaaay*

Title:  And When I Fall, Piece Me Back Together

Pairing: Autistic! Poe Dameron x Autistic! Transmasc! Reader 

Word Count: 2.6k

Request: As stated above!

Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Self-Doubt, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Crying, NSFW, Emotional Porn, Oral Sex, Worship (Boob Worship), Making Love, Breeding

A/N: I hope this brings you some comfort for what you’ve been going through— but also this definitely hurt. 

It doesn’t matter. 

That’s what you tell yourself— because how could it?

Billions along the galaxy lived in terror; hiding, scavenging, begging for any sort of peace, so that they may live without much fear or dread of what is to come. They’re distressed and tired— maker, they’re so tired of all the fighting, from both sides. 

The Resistance was just as fatigued. 

Too few in number, results of endless unavoidable tragedies that only continue to grow, even though you all pretend it will slow. Rations were dwindling, gear was rusting, breaking, and there were no new signs of gaining anymore. Everyone was overworked and miserable, a good portion were injured; every last one of you clinging desperately onto hope.

So why did your feelings matter?

Why should it matter when in the grand scheme of things, everyone was hurting the same, if not worse? Why should anyone care to help you?

It’s not like anyone would notice anyways. 

You weren’t special— you were just you.

Who would even want to help you?

You endure these thoughts, dragging yourself through the muck of your anguish, trying to perform your duties. A bitter fake smile, a small laugh here and there, and everything seemed as it should be-- normal. Everything flowed routinely, everyone acted the same, and no one noticed a thing. It was hard not letting your doubts seep out to those around you, they weren’t exactly to blame for how you felt; these feelings were up to you to sort out. 

And yet the seed of doubt had been sown— your insecurity and anxiety flourished.

There were only so many months you could take feeling unfavorable. It seeped into meal times first; excuses thrown freely of why you couldn’t be with everyone else. Next, it was downtime, lying that you were behind with reports or needed to take inventory before slipping away for the rest of the day. Even laying in the cool bed with your boyfriend, you slink away as your brain was relentless. Soon enough, you wouldn’t need one as no one asked you anymore, and you couldn’t even blame them. You couldn’t be a good friend to any of them— were you really even a friend at all?

Maybe they thought you were annoying.

Maybe they thought you were boring.

Maybe they never cared at all.

Maybe they simply forgot.

Those semi-feasible truths broke you. 

Those thoughts etched deeper into your head, and you found yourself quietly removing every bit of yourself from everyone you were close to. Most of your days were spent mute, not uttering so much as a word unless you were spoken to. Conversations were filled with such forced spurious energy, so at the very least you could fit in and not disrupt the flow. You were your own company for two months; no matter how much you despised it. 

Until he began popping his head in.

Poe. 

Your partner.

You’ve known him since he joined The Resistance, which was around the same time you inevitably joined. The two of you were thick as thieves, always hanging around each other, always being reckless— the feelings that developed were not a surprise to either of you, and fought for a better future, together. There was no part of him you didn’t trust, but your doubts were too quick to consume. The last thing you ever wanted to feel for him was the sting of rejection, and so you did your best to mask it— or so you thought. 

He never came to you asking questions, knowing how ultimately fruitless it would be because it’s too overwhelming. Instead, he sought you out, briefly speaking before sitting in silence. He never pushed for anything more. Simply, relaxing in your space no matter what you were doing; whether it was eating or working on your datapad, he was always there. You appreciated his efforts, even though there was not much you could say to him yet. 

A familiar humming breaks your thoughts and the metal door opens with a soft hiss. Poe steps in, looking a small bit disheveled with the way he had been running his fingers through his curls. It was a thing he often did whenever there was something that had him anxious. You eyed him from the comfort of your shared bed; he paced awkwardly around for a moment, unable to decide if he wanted to take his boots off or hang his jacket, first.

“Poe?” he came to a halt, looking toward you softly as you slid out of bed.

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?” you ask, watching him register your words. His eyes drop to the floor and then to his sides before he walks up to you; his palms brushing over your knuckles as his fingers wrap around your wrist. 

“I’m worried about you,” he whispers, looking down at your hands and then back up at you with concerned eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you worry. It— it feels nearly impossible, and—“ the explanation gets caught in your throat and your vision blurred.

“Star, we don’t have to talk about it just yet, just whenever you feel ready.” He squeezed your hands, adding to the sincerity of his words. You tried to push back your feelings, but the damn had already been cracked and a pitched noise left your lips. Instantly, you were tugged into his chest, his arms snuggly around you as he nuzzled the top of your head. Your hands found their way to his shirt, digging into the fabric as you inhaled your scent— both of you standing like that until he spoke up. 

“Star, do you want me—“

“Please,” you mutter out all too quickly, “please I want to talk to you.”

He doesn’t ask again, securing his arms around you before he slowly squeezed your torso. The pressure eases in your body, making you release a low whine— and from there it erupts. A broken cry of frustration, sadness, and fear, leaves your lips, and you break down. Tears stream fast and freely down your face; the noises brought forth from the pit of your stomach, that your chest hurts after a while. 

“I— I thought no one would care,” your voice wavers as you finally muster the words to speak, “because everyone else is hurting all the same and I didn’t want to burden anyone else,” you admit, pressing your face deeper into his chest. 

“I thought maybe I had messed up, that I wasn’t a good friend to any of you— and it just got worst. I didn’t think any of you would care, and it felt like it was all my fault and, and—“ all the pain comes flooding back, the tears return as you began to blubber. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay baby; I got you, I got you,” he assured against your head, hugging you tighter to him. His grip relaxed, an arm snaking up to the middle of your back as he swayed gently back an forth; bringing you slowly back down from your distress. It was quiet, only soft sighs and sniffles echoing softly across the room.

“It’s okay to need help,”  Poe spoke into your hair, pausing his movement to listen out for any sort of discomfort from you. When he heard none, he pulled away just enough to look at you, and caress the side of your face.

“It’s okay to come to us when you’re feeling bad,” his thumb stroked over cheek, tenderness in his eyes.  

“I swear to you,” he knocked his forehead against yours gently, pressing closer as a small whine left you, “you are never being a bother, annoying, or a burden coming to us whenever you need someone. We all need a friend sometimes and I’m certain every one of us would be by your side whenever you need it— Finn, Rey, BB, Jessika— even the General herself. We care so much about you, I care so much about you— I don’t want to see you suffer, baby.” You whimper at the earnestness in his voice, but your apprehension was too strong.

“But what if-- what if it never leaves? What if I keep ending up feeling this way at some point?” you blurt out anxiously, clinging to him harder; ready for it all to break apart again. Instead, his other hand found your cheek; eyes filled with nothing but fondness.

“Then I promise you, I will always be here to chase it away. No matter how many times I have to, I will always be there to tell you how those lies are— how deserving you are of friendship and love.” You sniffle softly, blinking away the tears, he continued to could wipe away.  “I’ll always make sure you feel cared for.” he finished, relief flooding through you; a tiny smile gracing your lips. 

“Thank you.” you whisper, finally letting yourself relax against him, and wrapping your arms around his waist. The warmth of his palms brought you more comfort, as he pressed his head rested against yours; the two of you basking in each other. Unprompted, he gently places small kisses over your face, starting from your nose and then to each side of your cheek— you sigh contently. 

“Do you want to?” he asks, nose rubbing against yours; both your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed lightly over your own. 

“Yes please,” the reply beckoned his lips over yours. Poe tilted your head up, sweetening the kiss as he stroked your cheek. A soft moan left from the back of your throat; your hands move to tug at the front of his shirt. It’s almost overwhelming, feeling your blood finally rush through your veins after months of being desolate; the burning in your lungs is a welcoming feeling. When he breaks the kiss, his lips still graze over the corners of your own, hands snaking away to the hem of your shirt. You step back as well, giving him a curt nod, and he pulls your shirt up over your head. The cool breeze makes you shudder, but not as bad as when his mouth places tender wet kisses over your tits. You don’t get much of a chance to react as he kneels down before you, mouth over your stomach and down to your sweatpants. He peels them, along with your bottoms slowly down in one go; sucking and nipping over the flesh of your inner thighs. You cursed, holding his head and shoulder for support, which he chuckles about. He stays there for a moment, leaving the sweetest trail of kisses over the ‘v’ of your hips, glancing up ever so often to look at you. When he was done, he got up, fingers massaging over your hips as you stood bare before him. 

He’s smiling as he kisses you again, pulling you closer to him. His tongue swipes over the inside of your mouth, drawing more noises out of you as he backed you against the bed. Carefully, his grip tightens as he lifts you up and you take the hint, pressing up off your feet and wrapping your legs around his waist. He sets you down to the soft sheets; pressing all sorts of kisses over your jaw and your neck. The desire set deep within your belly and after minutes of teasing, he moves away to admire his handy work. 

Tugging off his own jacket and shirt with ease; his necklace bounces against his chest before he kicked off his boots. Keeping his eyes on you, he shimmies out of his own bottoms before climbing between your legs; hiking one up over his shoulder as he sinks down. The flat swipe of his tongue makes you cry out and moan as he suckles on your clit. Your stomach quivers as he laps enthusiastically, sending waves of pleasure through you. He keeps one hand tightly gripping your hip, as the other slide up to grab your boob; kneading it adamantly. You don’t hold any of your screams back as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. His tongue pumps skillfully in and out of you and the stimulation from his hands and mouth were all too much and you came hard. He devours the rest of your juices, moving back up when you began to whine. 

The sweet taste of yourself from his tongue makes you shudder as you brush your thigh against his hip. He pulls your legs around him, stroking his hard cock again your dripping wet core as he sucks darker hickeys onto your neck. He groans, taking himself in one hand and pressing the tip of his cock to your clit; looking at you needily. 

“Pretty boy, can I?” his voice cracks; sending shivers down your spine. 

He wants you.

He loves you. 

“Please, Poe,” you whine, trying to roll your hips, enjoying the small amount of friction you got. He moans, following along with your rhythm, grinding his cock against your folds until he couldn’t take it anymore and sunk in. Moans echo freely between the two of you as he bottoms out, burying his face into your neck. Pleasure and desire buzz through your entire body as you beg for him to move.

With a firm yet slow roll of his hips, he thrusts deeply in and out of you; sending shockwaves of whines out of you. Your toes curl in an instant as his teeth latch onto the part where your neck and shoulder meet. You don’t mean for your nails to dig into the skin of his back, but everything inside of you hungers to feel more of him– to feel good. You fall deeper into that feeling as his hips kept meeting yours and the sweet nothings that flew out of his mouth, like your own personal shooting stars. His kisses felt like fire, sloppy and yet the most passionate ones he had ever given. You lost track of yourself, whines and whimpers leaving freely as the knot in your stomach grew. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” his right hand leaves your hip to cup the back of your neck, pressing another needy kiss to your lips, “I’m right here, baby.” His hips began to move faster, grinding against your own as he brought you closer. There was no coherent thought left in your brain as he rolled his hips thoroughly and soon you were toppling over into the abyss of pleasure. You came harder than you ever had with the sharp cry of his name, your body humming blissfully as he continued thrusting. Not long after he came to a halt, pressing deep inside of you as he came with the soft whine of your name against your cheek. You could feel just how much he had filled you, a wrecked whine leaving you; nearly convincing you that you came again. You both held onto each other for a moment, catching your breaths, before he found enough strength to flip the two of you over so that you were resting on his chest. It was a bit of haze for a moment until Poe began speaking, slowly talking you out of your space and pressing short kisses to the top of your head.

“I love you,” he mumbled, pecking your lips, “I promise  Star, I always will.”

“I love you too,” you whisper sleepily back, catching the delighted grin on his face before you began to drift off. His fingers gently stroked over your arm, lulling you into one of the best nights of sleep you had gotten in a while. 

Reminded that you were loved and cared for.

#poe dameron fic #poe dameron fluff #star wars imagine #poe dameron x transmasc!reader #poe dameron x reader #star wars x transmasc!reader #star wars smut #rct fic

[arcaneyouth]

10 16 24 (for the Deathspeaker, but if a different universe would fit better feel free to switch it up!)

10.) if your story is titled, why did you choose that title?

It hit me like a brick while I was developing the early stuff! I dunno! The Deathspeaker is the name the main villain chose to take on and Deathspeaker is the last name of the main character but honestly? I named the demon after the title of the story. I could talk about how fucking cool I think the title is and what it means and The Implications about who's really the main character here, but for the sake of this question it was just a word I came up with on the spot ILUASDHLAIUSDHSA

16.) imagine the entire story takes place but in the meantime the characters all also have tumblr. what kind of (terrible) tumblr posts would happen?

I WAS GONNA MAKE THIS HAPPEN AT ONE POINT. I made blogs for some of the characters. I don't think those blogs exist anymore but for a little while I was blogging as if they were in roughly the same time as the comic was progressing. It didn't last very long cause 10 different blogs is a lot to run at once ailusdhLUIASDHAILUSDH I think it would be so fucking funny tho. And awful for me emotionally. Joe would never make personal posts he just reblogs art and goes "whoa that's so cool" in the tags, with the occasional picture of Mittens his cat. Cody's still making shitposts that look like they came out of 2012. Dara makes 2 posts that are formatted poorly and don't make a lot of sense and then she never logs on again. Jules gets a phone and immediately starts hitting post limit every day because they think it's so fucking cool. VAGUE SPOILERS AHEAD

One day all of them stop posting except for Cody who just posts "SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED". reblogs later with a blurry picture of the school on fire. Abby starts posting ":)" and nothing else. Everyone slowly comes back as if nothing happened except Joe. Who then reappears weeks later with "i lived bitch" and then he spam posts his art.

VAGUE SPOILERS OVER <3

24.) best scene youve written?

Ok for scenes I've actually WRITTEN and don't just live rent free in my brain... I'd say like. All of Chapter 7 actually. MAN ESPECIALLY THE SCENE I JUST STARTED DRAWING OUT. JOE AND DARA OWN MY ENTIRE HEART THERE IS SOMETHING FUCKING WRONG WITH THEM <3 But Chapter 7 is so so so so special to me. The entire Chapter is on a very obvious time table. I think I did a good job holding the tension. The entire world is holding its breath waiting for it to happen. She knows it's going to happen. And you know she is not going to fix it all in time. It's already too late. They told her so themself. Everything in this chapter is so so deliberate. I've written more notes for this chapter than any other on exactly how each shot should look and how they should be framed and how each panel should be arranged on the page. I'm SO EXCITED

I'm also particularly fond of the back and forth scene in Chapter 6 with the journal pages laid out side by side with what Shannon's up to. The parallels make me insane and I needed everyone to notice them too. and it FUCKED HARD. It turned out so fucking cool.

For scenes I haven't actually gotten around to Writing yet. Man. Man. Man. I thought about that one scene in Chapter 9 every night for 2 years straight. I can't wait. I'm writing this entire story just so I can show people the images of chapter 9 that haunted me one day and caused me to start forming the rest of the story

#asks #I LOVE THIS STORY SO SO SO SO MUCH #BABY ME DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THEY WERE DOING WHEN THEY STARTED MAKING THE COMIC. BUT I KNOW #I KNOW NOW #EVERY TINY THING IS SO DELIBERATE AND HAS REASONING AND THOUGHT PUT BEHIND IT #I WORK SO HARD #I LOVE THIS FUCKING STORY

[decieve-ineigle-obfuscate]

Our Old Friend, Death: Chapter 6

Summary: Transferring to the main branch of NCIS is a big change from working on an island. While competent, Georgia Vanlow has always understood human psychology better than she’s been able to work with it. But psychology and coping mechanisms aren’t always enough to adjust to new situations. Especially when plans go awry, and profiling your teammates just won’t get you through hell.

Warnings: Language

Warnings: 1.3K Words

I followed Cate into the main office. "So, what's the plan?" I asked.

"We are going over every scrap of paper relating to this case. And see what we can get. Tony and Gibbs are checking out the last 3 crime scenes. I was informed the murders have been moving further and further on base."

"Make a geographical profile."

She hummed in reply. "Good job. It's gonna be tedious. I'll tell you that much."

I shrugged. "S'fine. I'll live."

Cate spoke to the Lance Corporal at the front desk, and we were led into a room lined wall to wall with shelves crammed with boxes.

"Have fun. Use the table. Don't remove any items from the room. Ask the private if you need help. Kay?" She said.

We nodded, and a private stepped in. "I'll be here to supervise and help if you need."

Cate pulled down the first box we needed.

The private reached out and grabbed the other end of the box.

Cate made a face.

I glanced over at her. "Didn't you say, "if we need"?" I asked.

He let go of the box and backed away. "Apologies."

I nodded slowly and began pulling files out onto the table. "This is the file from the first one. There's… there's only one page." I said, looking up at the private. "The fuck?"

"We didn't exactly have you guys. We thought it was a freak accident."

I pursed my lips. "You thought the scene from Fargo was an accident? Fucking how?" I snapped.

He sighed. "I… I'm honestly not sure, ma'am. I had raised concerns."

"Well, at least someone on this base has half a fucking brain," I muttered, looking through the files. "It took you guys finding the third one before we were called."

"He's escalating," Cate muttered.

"Yeah. One 6 months ago. One 2 months ago. Then one 2 days ago and today." I agreed.

"Why?" The private asked.

"We don't know. That's what we're trying to find out. Be easier if we had more than 2 days on the case." I muttered.

"Well, we have a lot of evidence. The three boxes on the top shelf are just pictures. The next three boxes below are evidence."

I glanced over my shoulder. "Great."

I slumped down onto the table. "We've been here for 11 hours, and I'm no closer to figuring this out than I was this morning."

"Gibbs talked to the guy who shot at you yesterday morning. He got nothing either." Cate said quietly.

"I need coffee. Want some?"

She nodded, putting the files back in the open box before following me out of the room.

We walked into the break room, and I checked the percolators.

"This one's almost empty," I said, pouring a cup from that one.

"And?" She asked.

"If you take coffee near military personnel, you replace it! Always go for the almost empty one, then brew a new pot. Or, in this case, percolator.

She nodded. "That a rule?"

I shook my head.

"Should be."

I looked over my shoulder to see Gibbs.

"Hey, boss," Cate said.

"Got anything?" He asked.

"Nope. The files are about 2-3 pages each. Then there are about 2 and a half boxes of pictures and then 3 of evidence. We went through everything, and we're no closer than we were when we walked into that room." Cate said.

He sighed. "I didn't get anything out of the shooter either. He was wired damn near half a million to shoot at us. No name, just money. He's got parents to provide for, so he took the money. That's all."

Cate sighed and nodded.

I downed the cup of coffee and poured myself another cup before setting up another brew.

"What about you, Vanlow?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. Doesn't make sense."

He nodded. "It's already 10 pm. Let's head back to the house and get some rest. We're obviously not going to get anything else tonight. I want to see if anything else happens overnight since the shooter's in custody now."

I nodded, grabbed my cup of coffee, and followed them out to the car.

Tony was already leaning on the hood of the car and yawning. "You girls get anything done?" He asked.

"What do you think?" Cate snapped.

"Same, honestly. we sat with the guy who shot at Gibbs and Georgia, but we got nothing."

"Not true." I interrupted.

"Huh?" Tony asked.

"We know someone wired him money to shoot at or kill us. Just because it's not what we wanted to hear doesn't mean it's nothing."

"How so?" Gibbs asked.

"If money was transferred, we can track it. Whoever paid him can be found. No one's invisible. Rule 14, no detail is insignificant." I replied.

Gibbs nodded. "We'll work on it in the morning."

"Work on what?"

I turned to see Arthur.

"Work," Gibbs said, climbing into the car.

"I'm driving! Tony shouted.

I climbed into the driver's seat and patted Tony's arm. "No, I'll drive. Hop in the back."

"Mind if I catch a ride?" Arthur asked. "I kinda rode were with you."

"Sure. Back seat middle hump." I offered.

He pursed his lips. "Maybe I'll walk?"

"Get in the car, Agent Potts," Gibbs ordered.

Arthur sighed and climbed into the car fore being followed by Cate. "Sucks to be you, Potts."

I reached back and smacked the shit out of Tony's leg before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Shit! Mom's arm hurts. My step-mom used to do that when I was little. Hurt like hell then too."

I chuckled and showed my badge to the guard at the gate. "You weren't here this morning," I stated.

"No one shot at one of our CO until this morning. Have a good night, ma'am."

"You too."

I pulled away from the gate and drove down the road to the house we were staying at on base.

"Dibs on the shower," Tony said.

"Tony, if you take a shower and don't leave me hot water, I will shoot you." Cate threatened.

"Uh… maybe Cate has dibs on the shower."

"I'll hogtie you both and shoot you if I can't wash my run and the rest of the day off. Clear?" I said.

"I think Georgia had dibs on the shower," Tony said.

"Mhmm." Cate agreed.

I smiled and pulled into the parking lot.

I put the car in park and turned it off.

Gibbs exited the car with me. While Tony and Cate grabbed their things, I locked the car doors and headed to the house

I heard them shouting from the car as I went inside and to the room, I shared with Cate.

"That was a cheap move, Vanlow," Gibbs said, leaning against the door jamb.

"I want the shower. I know they'll plough people down to get the shower. I'm not taking any chances." I replied, setting my bag down.

He nodded and left the room.

I kicked my door shut and stripped down before climbing into the shower.

Upon my exiting the shower, Cate w sat on the edge of the bed.

"You really stuck me in the care with Tony and your ex-boss? It's so dark out that Gibbs had to come and let us out of the car. We couldn't even find the manual locks."

I shrugged. "Sorry, just because Tony said he'd let me have the first shower doesn't mean I trust him to follow through."

She smirked. "Well, you could've let me out. We could've shared the shower."

"If I thought for one second you could've gotten around the car in the time, I would've left you out," I replied, kissing her gently.

"You don't think I'm faster than Tony?" She asked.

"I don't think you're as desperate or nefarious as Tony," I said.

"You think Tony's nefarious?"

I shrugged. "Back-stubby sounds kinda childish."

"Well, Tony's childish. Turnabout's fair play."

I pushed her back onto the bed. "Wanna do something not-childish?"

"Love that idea. I'm putting you on probation because you locked me in the car." She rolled off the bed and slipped into the bathroom. "Night, Georgia!"

"Night… Cate." I said quietly.

#ncis gibbs #ncis fic #Gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #tony dinozzo #ziva david #officer david #jethro gibbs #jimmy palmer #McGee #timothy mcgee #tim mcgee #anthony dinozzo #dinozzo #ziva #ducky #ducky mallard #donald mallard #ofc: georgia Vanlow #ofc #omc: arthur potts #omc #daniel day lewis #jessica chastain #director shepard #abby #abbs #abby scuito #jenny shepard

[galacticexevt]

OC Prompt/Ask

Hi guys! I know it has been a while since I have uploaded any works and it’s due to a few reasons: One of them being my college classes for the spring semester have startred up and I need to get my GPA up so I need to stay on top of my classes. The second reason simply being writers burn out, lmao. That being said, I haven’t stopped coming up with writing ideas and prompts, ya boy just needs to find that motivation again.

This prompt was given to me by an IRL friend of mine back in fall of last year- and while it is a bit different from what I normally write and share; considering I am on the aro/ace spectrum it was quite a challenge to think outside the box. While this short story is meant for kicks and giggles, there is a bit of truth to my IRL seld slipped into it as well. I had put this peice on the back burner for a while and it wasn’t until a rather….unpleasant interaction with a veiwer of mine that gave me the inspo to continue it, lmao.

I hope to finish up some other WIPS in the coming weeks, so please enjoy this story for now!

(PSA: Respect your fellow aces please and thank you.)

Prompt: What is your type?

My type? Whadda mean, My type? Like- blood type or somethin'? Why...exactly do you need to know that? Do you work for those weirdo Maelstrom scientists? Look, man, I don't even think I have a blood type- do you guys forget that I am not human or some shit? I thought the ears and the light show on my face would be a dead giveaway.

Wait, wait, you mean my type in other people? Wha-what kinda fucking question is that?! Why are ya'll so keen on learnin' about my personal life!? Huh?! First, it was that one guy askin' me about my dick size, and now this! Why are ya'll steady tryin' to get into my pants?!

Look, to be real with you, I ain't got the time to be thinkin' about that kinda stuff. I mean- between being a wanted fuckin' convict, a vengeful Maelstrom Captain hunting me down, and trying to keep up business at Kohren's shop, I don't really get a moment to sit down and ponder what gets my dick up, ya know?

Besides, have you seen the folks that live in The Slums? They...ain't my cup of tea to put it nicely. Trust me, this place is called The Slums for a reason, and the people here are no exception. If you ask me, I don't think having a 'type' exists here. The folks around here just go for whatever gets their rocks off and call it a day. Also, I wouldn't touch most people here with a ten-foot pole; unfortunately, basic hygiene is not the everyday standard.

Level with me here: is this somethin' you humans sit up and talk about in your spare time? Do you guys not believe in keepin' certain things to yourselves? Why would you want people to know that kinda shit about you anyways? That would just invite weirdos trying to be your type, and that sounds like a fucking shit show waiting to happen.

I don't know how to answer this one for ya, and I feel like I will let someone down regardless of how I respond or if I simply choose not to. But whatever! I will come clean. I am a little different than other folks; while you guys sit up and think about this stuff all day, this shit simply doesn't compute in my brain. It's never a pressin' thought for me- dontcha humans have a word for that? It's ace, right? Yeah, romance and intimacy ain't really my thing. I mean yeah, I have wants and needs like most folks do, but they... aren't that important- and I was born with two hands for a reason other than craftin' shit at Kohren's shop.

Now, answer me this, how the fuck do you have a type if you have never been with anyone? How does that shit make sense? How do you actually know what you like before you go out and experience it? Is it an exposure thing? I dunno how you human folk mingle with each other but all of this sounds complicated as fuck.

Ughh...fuck...why is this so hard to fucking answer? If I find people unappealing, you'd think it would be easy to pinpoint what I do find appealing.

Does it count if the type is human? Maybe this would be a hell of a lot easier if we took my birthplace out of the equation. Does that count? You know what? We are making it fucking count.

I guess, to keep it short and simple, I like masculine girls and feminine guys. Wha-what do you mean explain further?! What difference does it make if I explain?! It won't increase anyone's chances with me, even if they fit my descriptions! Aight, aight I'm dragin' this on too long.

I like girls with an unbreakable character- ones that don't take any shit, ya know? Someone with an unpredictable personality, one that keeps you on your toes- one that isn't afraid to test your limits and push your buttons.

If...I could be honest...I find it rather...uhm...attractive when girls are taller and have nice muscles- o-of course, it takes a lot of training a-and a proper diet to achieve a physique like that! D-don't mistake that for anything else!

And guys? I prefer when guys aren't afraid to be in touch with their feminine side. Ones who aren't afraid to be emotionally vulnerable can express themselves however they please. Oh- and he has to be clean; there are no exceptions what-so-fucking-ever. I have heard too many horror stories of male hygiene habits from Earth.

Aight, does that answer your question? Honestly, I don't get paid enough to care whether it does. It doesn't matter if someone fits these descriptions either; these are just superficial preferences, and like my old man tells me: "The heart wants what it wants." Or somethin' like that.

#vtuber #character design #galacticlore #oc #original character #original writing #writeblr #vtuberlore #lore #writing #oc asks #oc ask #ocask

[gddmgttsu]

Madge

I wish my brain made things easier for me. I finished re-making my portfolio so I can apply for jobs but like I hate everything about it.

There’s something about the process that just turns me away so bad. It also sucks that it’s just a requirement to live life. I just want to make music and play my games man.

Alittle earlier too I re-opened a WIP to finish it up. Honestly it sounded done already, just a bit of mixing and it was “done”. By done I obviously mean that “Something is telling me it’s bad but another part of me thinks it’s alright and needs no changes”. Why is this so difficult?

here is my cat for a divider

Sleep is hard.

Do you ever somehow drift your sleep ever so slightly over the course of a few days that you wake up at night? That’s been my life for like 90 00 years.

I’ve been trying to fix it slowly but my process takes a while and it’s unstable with my success rate. It’s not that I don’t like it, I quite like the quiet nights doing whatever. I think the part of me that feels weird is like some emotional thing.

I don’t have that many real friends. I very much cherish the ones I do have but like I straight up can’t hang out with them at night. It’s fairly reasonable to not want to stay up untill the sun peaks over the horizon so I can’t blame em. Every now and then though I do feel lonely because of it…

Everyone can relate to one negative emotion spiraling into another and this feeling of loneliness does tend to some more sad thoughts. It got me thinking about how even though I have my friends, I don’t think anyone I’ve met has really understood who I am.

I’ve always thought about mysef being out of phase with everything. My wavelength starts somewhere else and is probably even in a different frequency. It sounds stupid but it’s how my music brain interprets it.

There’s nothing wrong with that of course. I’m very much happy with who I am but sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever meet anyone who’s genuinely in tune with me.

I dunno really… I don’t exactly know what I want with other people. I feel like I’m trying to explain something but can’t fully express it with words. I just can’t make out what exacty my brain wants to say.

I’m not saying that I’m that kinda cringe “weird” person. Everyone thinks negatively when a plea for a need of individuality is taken in that direction. I don’t particularly like it myself but what I want to express is kind of in that area as much as I hate to admit it.

I just don’t exactly know what’s wrong with me to make me think or feel this way.

Anyway dear reader, you have seen a piece of my mental state. I hope it’s interesting and not cringe because I will cry.

#ggsgarbage

[amethyst-halo]

i have this lil self indulgent au where instead of getting dropped in a ravine brashstar takes shadowsight to the twolegplace where velvet finds him and he’s kinda stuck in her house for a bit and they are friends and she helps him find his way home after he’s healed

#i simply think they would be friends #dunno why exactly i thought this up one day but it lives in my brain rent free #sketch speaks #warrior cats #yea sure the tag can have this one ajdjskf

[kindahoping4forever]

Feedback // Ashton Irwin

I've been sitting on this fic for a minute so thank you to everyone who's patiently waited for me to post it (shoutout to Sly)! This story was really just me getting inspired and clowning after Ashton's "Down To Earth" IG stream back in April. As always, thanks to @cal-puddies for the invaluable guidance as I tried to pare my writing style down into a pwp format (try being the operative word, 3500 words is still the best we could do lmao).

Warnings: Distracted Boyfriend!Ash, oral sex on a male, moderately rough unprotected sex (on the red leather couch) including mild dirty talk, brief choking and a spank or two.

Word Count: 3535

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and New 2021 Taglist linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

"Baby! I didn't know you were home!"

You turn around to see Ashton in the doorway of the bedroom, voice as cheerful as the yellow beanie covering his head.

"Didn't hear you come in," he comments, walking over to you.

You slide your arms around your boyfriend’s neck with a sigh. "Rushed up here, phone was about two seconds from shutting off," you explain, greeting him with a tender kiss.

He watches as you kick off your shoes and yank your bra off under your shirt, tossing everything haphazardly in the direction of the closet before flinging yourself on the bed. "Tough day?"

You groan, dragging your hands over your face before extending your arms, encouraging him to join you. “Eh, not great and very long,” you report, giving a satisfied sigh when Ash climbs on the bed and immediately pulls you on top of him, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You do the same and the both of you lay quietly in this prone embrace for several peaceful moments before you break the silence. “How about you, how was your day?”

You feel him shrug under your body. “Can’t complain,” is his simple reply.

“Make anything cool?” You prompt, knowing he’s being low-key because he thinks you need to chill out, not realizing nothing relaxes you more than listening to him talk about his passions.

“Hmm… anything cool...” Ash giggles, hugging you closer. “I dunno, got a good start goin’ on this one track that could be pretty cool, got a nice vibe.”

You raise your head up to look at him and scratch your fingers across his beard, you’re so glad he decided to let it grow again. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

He hums as you continue to rub his face. “Only been at it for a couple hours, ‘s just a track for now, we’ll see what I can do with it,” he breezes, moving your hand from his face to his mouth so he can kiss it.

“Well, whenever you feel like you need a fresh pair of ears, I’d love to hear it,” you enthuse, moving to lay at his side.

He turns to give you a bright grin. “Yeah? A little in-house focus group?” He teases, leaning in for a sweet kiss that starts to get needy the longer it goes on.

You pull off his hat, running your fingers through his long hair as he moves to kiss along your neck. “Don’t know if you know this but I’m a big fan of your work,” you tease back.

He kisses your lips again, biting a bit as he pulls away to quip, “We talking ‘bout my music or something else?”

You giggle, deciding that indulging this frisky mood is exactly how you would like to unwind tonight. You inch closer, pulling him back into a kiss and he responds eagerly, hand coming up to massage at the base of your neck like it always does. For the next few minutes, the only thoughts in your mind revolve around Ashton, how he feels, how he tastes and where you need his mouth or hands on you next.

When you let out a moan at the way his fingers are gripping your skin under your shirt and he doesn’t press himself against you in response, you can tell he’s gotten distracted. You laugh knowingly against his lips, “You’re back to thinking about that song now, aren’t you?”

He looks at you with a sheepish smile. “I was actually still workin’ and came up here just to grab a hoodie when I found you.”

You playfully push him off of you, shaking your head. “Dude, you should’ve told me! You know I’m not one to fuck with The Process,” you admonish, scrunching your nose up at the trail of kisses he pecks over your face as he sits up.

“Nah, my brain needed a break and my girl needed me, it worked out perfectly,” he insists, rubbing your arm affectionately before getting off the bed.

He quickly fishes his desired sweatshirt out of the closet and pulls it on over his t-shirt, mussing his hair even more than you already had. He walks back over, ready to kiss you goodbye when you sit up on your knees to stop him. “I was serious about giving it a listen if ya want,” you say, smoothing his hair down before resting your hands on top of his inside his hoodie pocket. “If you’re not ready that’s fine but just FYI I‘m interested.”

Ash grins at you, squeezing your hands before using them to pull you to your feet. “Aww, you know you’re my fave audience, baby,” he gushes, reaching to grab his hat off the bed. “Let’s go give it a spin.”

“Well. As much as you can ‘spin’ a computer file,” you mutter, trying to annoy him just because it’s fun.

As you head for the door, you hear him snort behind you a split second before he grabs you, sliding his beanie on your head far enough to cover your eyes; you burst into giggles as he playfully bumps into you, passing you in the hallway. “Smart ass,” he grumbles, voice still smiling.

Ash makes it down to the basement first and starts clicking on files and flicking switches, excited to play his work for you. You stop at the foot of the stairs and survey the room with wonder. Multiple guitars - electric, acoustic, bass, 12-string - are strewn across the room, cables run from his computer to the adjacent room where he houses his drums, food delivery containers line the coffee table; he’s clearly been down here since you left this morning.

While he sets up, you make yourself useful, setting the guitars back in their racks, stacking the food trash; when you’re done, you start to drag a chair over to the computer when you notice he’s staring at you like you’ve grown an extra head.

“What are ya mad at me or somethin’?” He scoffs, patting his legs and looking at you expectantly.

You smirk and take a seat in his lap, watching closely as his long fingers fly over the keyboard, hand adeptly working the mouse, making a few final adjustments to the track. You hear a quiet “there we go” under his breath and then he’s settling in, pulling you back against him and rubbing over your thighs as you wait for the song to begin.

It’s a simple demo so far - layered background vocals, drum and bass, some synth, a little guitar line here and there - but he’s right, it’s definitely a vibe. You’re pleased that his reflection is visible in the computer screen, you love seeing him grooving behind you, pursing his lips and nodding his head along to the beat as you feel his fingers tapping along on your waist while he holds you close.

The track is short and before he can even ask your opinion, you tell him to play it again; his face lights up at your request and he proudly complies. When it finishes this time, you shift to look at him and smile. “That’s wild you did that all yourself and in such a short amount of time,” you marvel. “See, I was right, you did do something cool.”

Ashton laughs, kissing the side of your head as he leans forward to reach the keyboard. “You think so? Well, what’s really cool is this…” He starts clicking around again, isolating the different elements and revealing which sounds are electronic and which are live instruments, which section he thinks he’ll write lyrics over tomorrow, where he’s thinking of pasting in more guitar.

You respond when appropriate but mostly you just listen intently, watching fondly as he animatedly details his thought process; this is why you offered to come down here with him, this is the best part about being his “fave audience.” You love his music but more than that, you love how much he loves his music.

He stops mid-explanation of a section to tinker with it, clearly having a brainstorm right in front of you. You curl into his chest, observing quietly as he cycles through effects and begins stacking tracks. He chews his lip, deep in thought as he lets the song play again and you can't help but press a few kisses to his jaw.

Ash continues his work and you continue yours, moving from his jaw to his neck; your kisses eventually become more heated, with you adding tongue and even teeth to the equation. You suck his earlobe into your mouth, wiggling his earring with the tip of your tongue and finally he pulls away, chuckling, "Baby, come on."

You shrug, playing with his hair. "I just love watching you work."

He laughs, "Then goddamn, baby, let me work!" He growls as you nip at his throat and you smile to yourself because you can tell he's already rethinking his request.

"Seems like you shoulda thought about this before you invited a girl down to your basement to listen to some dreamy space pop alien makeout jam," you tease, relishing the feeling of his laughter vibrating his throat under your tongue.

"Can I get you to leave that review when this goes up on iTunes?" He cracks, finally turning his attention to you.

"I might be persuaded," you flirt, humming with victory as he pulls you into a hungry kiss.

Ashton wastes no time returning the affection you showed him, lips devouring yours, hands quickly making their way under your shirt to lazily massage your tits. You’re mid-moan, his fingers just about to make it inside your waistband when suddenly he’s pulling away.

It takes you a beat to realize what’s happened, your body confused by the sudden absence of his touch. You open your eyes to see him busy at the computer again and it’s so absurd to you, you have to laugh.

“Two minutes,” he says half-apologetically, half-distracted, squeezing your thigh but not taking his eyes off the screen.

You smirk to yourself, immediately aware of what your next move is. “Take as long as you need, baby. When genius strikes, you gotta go for it,” you state ominously, not that he notices. Nor does he notice you sliding yourself off his lap and onto the floor between his legs.

You run your hands up and down his thick thighs before letting your touch wander to the front of his jeans, palming over his crotch, happy to find that at least part of him was interested in your makeout session. You can’t decide if you’re more amused or annoyed by his focus but it’s not until your hand is on his cock, freeing him from his pants that he tears himself away from his project.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can I help you with something?”

You lock eyes with him as you stick your tongue out and dramatically lick your hand, coating your palm with saliva before giving his cock a tight squeeze and beginning to stroke him steadily. “I also had a genius idea I was just following through on,” you shrug. “Might take a little longer than two minutes, though, I’m a bit out of practice… my boyfriend’s been pretty busy.”

Ash giggles wildly, both at your joke and your audacity. “You’re crazy, I’m literally about to be done with… fuck…” His retort is interrupted by you, eyes still trained on his, licking long stripes up the sides of his cock, sucking gently at the head before licking your way back down.

“Go ahead and finish your work, baby, I’ll just keep busy until you’re done,” you insist, mischief in your eyes as you look up one last time before taking him into your mouth.

You hear a sharp inhale, a softly chuckled “fuckin’ ridiculous” and then finally, mouse clicks as he attempts to get back to it. You do your best to distract him, bobbing up and down enthusiastically, sucking loudly, humming around him, making sure he knows how much you’re enjoying your task.

It only takes a minute or so for him to get sidetracked by your efforts. “This is a shitty home demo I’ve spent all of 90 minutes on, there’s no way it’s so good you just had to have my cock right here and now,” he insists, struggling to keep his voice steady, not wanting you to hear how affected he is.

You pop off, gingerly playing with his balls as you zing back, “I dunno babe, you guys had plenty of shitty songs on your first album and from what I’ve heard, you did more than alright in the pussy department.”

Ashton’s laughter quickly turns to a strained moan as you slide back down on him, letting him hit the back of your throat. “My bad, didn’t realize I’d shacked up with a groupie,” he jokes. You silently congratulate yourself as you notice him flexing his hand into a fist, knowing he’s trying to keep himself from pressing down on your head.

You pull off him again, making sure to let the spit cascade from your mouth as you smugly reply, “Like I said before: big fan.” Before he can even think about responding, your mouth is back on him.

You’re not surprised he attempts to resume working again; you’re both stubborn, it’s a wonder anything ever gets resolved in your relationship. You can tell he’s trying his best to stay on task but the whispered curses under his breath give him away. As a last resort, he turns the volume on his speaker up a few more notches, hoping the track will drown out the exaggerated choking sounds you’re intent on making.

A few moments later, he reaches down and yanks his beanie off your head. “Fuckin’ bright yellow bouncing over my crotch is hard to ignore,” he grumbles. “All I see is my hat, looks like I’m suckin’ my own dick for all I know.”

You can’t resist continuing to rib him. “How is that not your greatest fantasy? Your favorite person giving you your favorite pleasure?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, did you want to blow me or roast me?”

You give him your brightest smile and reply, “Unlike you, I’m pretty good at multi-tasking.”

A brief cackle and a clipped “alright” are all you hear before you’re being hoisted up off the ground, thrown over Ash’s shoulder and carried over to the couch across the room. You squeal with surprise and delight as he unceremoniously dumps you on it, briskly strips you both of your clothes and promptly bends you over the red leather.

He nudges your knees further apart, pressing you against the back of the couch. “Of course you’re this fuckin’ wet already,” he teases, breath hot on your neck as he runs himself through your folds. “You think that’s from my cock down your throat or from you winding me up so much?”

Whatever clever comeback you’d thought up dies on the tip of your tongue because suddenly he’s sliding his cock inside you and now that’s all you can care about. You whine as he quickly establishes a vigorous pace, one hand bracing himself against the couch, the other reaching around you, down your torso to reach your clit. “How’s this for multi-tasking?”

A few breathless cries of his name are the best you can manage as he relentlessly plays with you, somehow in perfect rhythm with his rough thrusts, sending your whole body into sensory overload.

“Or how ‘bout this?” He growls, moving his hand from between your legs to your throat, fingers offering just the slightest amount of pressure, knowing it’ll drive you crazy wondering if and when he’ll add more. “Don’t got any more funny jokes for me, baby?”

You moan at his taunting, placing a hand on top of his on your neck, trying to get him to squeeze harder; he refuses and his denial makes you moan even louder. "Jesus, Ash," you pant, pushing back against him to egg him on. “Feels so fucking good.”

You're so caught up that you don't even notice his song is still playing over the speakers until a few moments later when Ashton suddenly pulls out of you, muttering to himself as he grabs the remote from the coffee table and shuts the music off.

Confused, you look back and see him amusedly shaking his head. "Yes, I was still producing that in my head, don’t start," he giggles.

You fall back on the couch, laughing in disbelief. “We’ve gotta get you some hobbies, buddy, that’s insane.”

He snickers, laying you on your back and settling on the couch behind you, pulling your leg over his hip. “I don’t think fucking you counts as a hobby,” he jokes, gripping his cock and slipping it back inside you.

“Not with that attitude,” you quip, a little more breathlessly than you meant to but with how slowly Ash is rocking into you, you can’t help it.

You tilt towards him, angling yourself to pull his mouth down to yours; you’re feeling overwhelmed and you need him close. His tongue traces over your lips, his kiss the familiar reassurance you need in this moment. “Ash…” You whimper quietly, closing your eyes and savoring the feel of his beard grazing your skin.

“I know, baby, me too,” he soothes, cradling you tighter against him. His hips begin to pick up speed and his hand moves to knead your breasts and tug at your nipples before travelling further down.

Ashton rubs slow, tight circles on your clit, stopping to give your thigh a light smack when you start raising your hips a little too eagerly, bucking up in an attempt to get him to move at a speed more to your liking. You moan first at the realization that he’s going to keep teasing you like this and then again, louder, at the sharp slap of his palm that once again comes down on your skin.

“You’ve got a nice tone tonight, baby, I should get you to lay down some vocals for this track,” he jokes, choking back a moan of his own when your surprised laughter causes you to clench around his length.

You chuckle smugly at him, “Not so funny all of a sudden, huh?”

You feel yourself getting closer so you start rolling your hips along with his, murmuring at the feeling of him deep inside you; you grind against his hand playing between your legs and as he finally amps up the pace, your release becomes closer and closer to reality. Your breathing syncs with his in a needy, staccato rhythm that wouldn’t have sounded out of place in his song.

“Is this what you wanted?” He huffs out. Typically when he asks you that while he’s buried in you, there’s a tone of arrogance or punishment behind it but right now as he holds you, your sounds continuing to meld together, it couldn’t feel farther from that.

“Yes, Ash, god yes…” you breathe, reaching to hold onto him as your orgasm overtakes you.

Ashton keeps driving his cock inside you, whining slightly at the feeling of you pulsing around him. You cry out, not realizing how loud or long your moans are until you hear his voice in your ear, gently lulling you back down.

He’s still moving inside you, hips beginning to stutter and when you hear his breath catch, you know he’s there. You tuck yourself into him, cooing, “Come on, Ash... fill me up, babe.” Three strokes later and he’s pumping his cum inside you, gasping your name. He slows his movements, heavy breath underscored by a contented hum as you caress his bearded cheek.

He leans in and kisses you passionately, completely enveloping you, possibly your favorite feeling in the world. He exhales loudly and keeps holding you, kissing over your face tenderly.

You giggle as he indulges for a moment before reluctantly pulling away, reaching for the takeout napkins on the coffee table; he attentively cleans you up and quickly settles back onto the couch, pulling you on top of him.

You lay together, blissed out, while you play with the necklace hanging down on his chest and he strokes over your hair.

“Hey, sorry I gave you such a hard time,” you smile. “Didn’t realize how much I wanted your attention until I didn’t have it anymore.”

He looks at you, amused. “Honestly didn’t notice you acting any differently.”

You jab his side. “Also sorry I talked shit about your first album, I do actually like it quite a bit.”

Ash cackles, tracing designs on your back. “Oh good, I was worried that was going to be what finally drives us apart,” he cracks.

You snicker, nuzzling your head into his chest. You enjoy a few quiet moments together before he begins softly humming an unfamiliar melody and you smile, knowing his creative wheels are turning again.

You lift your head up again to offer one last apology. “I’m sorry I once again disrupted The Process.”

Ashton laughs mischievously, running his hands down your body. “I mean… overall I’d say this was some pretty valuable feedback.”

————-

Thank you to everyone who has signed up for the taglist, both for the support and the lovely (occasionally hilarious) feedback! If you haven’t signed up yet, the form is linked above! (If you signed up and your name is crossed out or not listed, I was unable to tag you, please check your blog settings and either re-sign up or send me a message letting me know you allow mentions now) @notinthesameguey @cxddlyash @2fangirl4u @cashtonasfuck @talkfastromance4 @itjustkindahappenedreally @saywhatnow07 @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @findingliam-o @fedorable-killjoys @trix-arent-for-kids @olivia-foster-irwin @saphseoul @calmsweetcreature @onthecliffside-mgc @feliznavidaddycal @himbohood @maggiesupertramp @wiiildflowerrr @karajaynetoday @ashtonangst @sunshineeashton @aladyofalbion @youngblood199456 @xsongbirdx @loveroflrh @fairytrice @calumrose @irwindoll @polycashton @in-superbloom

#5sos smut #5 seconds of summer smut #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin fic #ashton smut #kindahoping4forever #Feedback #kh4f fic #smut #thank you for reading! #feedback is appreciated #reblogs are gold and reblogs with tags makes you yourself golden #idk why that's a preexisting tag but I'm going with it lmao the point is let me know what you think pls! #this is the last fic I have banked so hopefully my health will chill so I can finish up at least one of those WIPs I've been hyping #also um hello we really don't talk enough about the fact that Ash produced a fucking song live on IG & then just dropped it on Twitter lol #like wtf how blessed were we #and looking like that as well #big sigh

[sergeantxrogers]

| second choice|

Summary: Steve’s drifted away from you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Angst, heartache, tears, so much sad shit I broke my own heart writing this, (this is during/post Endgame, you’ll see why), I dunno just have some tissues ready I guess 

___________________________

It was a Sunday when you realized.

You remember, very clearly, that it was a Sunday because you had the day off from work and woke up to your alarm clock glaring the numbers 11:18 a.m. in your face. And this was weird. Weird because the clock was on Steve’s side of the bed. And you could see it. It took you a while to register the fact that you were alone in bed, underneath white sheets and head snug between two pillows. 

One of which was Steve’s. His absence made your heart twinge with worry, because it had become somewhat of a little ritual between the two of you. A tradition, if you will: you and Steve sleep in on Sundays, stay in bed for an hour, while everybody else spent their Sunday how they wanted, then grab a late breakfast-early lunch at your favorite diner just a 4 minute walk away. So where was he?

You flung the sheets off your legs, climbing out of the bed that was, you had come to realize, much too big and lonely for one person, and hurried out of the bedroom. 

“Stevie?” you called out, making your way to the compound common room and not seeing him there. 

As you walked into the kitchen, a flash of confusion ran across your face when you saw a Post-It note on the refrigerator, shining bright and neon and yellow and you couldn’t help but feel like the writing on the note was going to make you feel anything but bright, neon and yellow. 

You got close enough to decipher Steve’s boyish, chicken scratch handwriting (that he always swore he was working on) and an involuntary wave of panic hit your gut.

Went to Ma’s to get breakfast, be back soon - S

You stared at the note, brows furrowed, breath heavy. You stared at it for a minute, maybe even two, as your brain wrapped around the words you had read. He left for breakfast without you. He hadn’t even waited until you woke up. And there was no heart at the end of his sentence. Maybe it was silly, yes, but Steve always left you little hearts at the end of his notes, after he signed them with his initial, as if you wouldn’t be able to tell whose awful handwriting it was. There was no heart this time. Maybe he just forgot. 

With a heavy breath leaving your body, your arm felt like lead as you reached up to grab the tauntingly bright note from the fridge. You ripped it up exactly four times, calmly tossing it in the trash bin when you passed by it and left the kitchen. 

He came back two hours later, a brown paper bag with Ma’s logo printed on the side in one hand, keys in the other. 

“Hey,” he said, setting the bag down on the table in front of you, where your feet were propped up as you clicked through the TV channels, not being able to completely focus on one. 

Steve nodded towards the bag as he shrugged his jacket off.

“Brought you somethin’, thought you might be hungry,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

All you could do was nod mutely in acknowledgement as he threw himself down onto the couch. Too far away. Or maybe you were overthinking it. 

He rested his head back against the couch, closed his eyes and sighed. 

Bringing your feet off the table and your knees to your chest, you kept flicking through the channels, occasionally throwing a glance Steve’s way.

“What’d ya do while I was out?” he broke the silence. “Anything special?”

You turned to look at him, to find his eyes still closed, arms interlocked behind his head. The sight brought a memory to the forefront of your mind.

“Steve, come on! You only live once, ya know!” you yelled out for him, and giggled when he stuck his tongue out at you from the beach shore. 

The glare from the sun reflected off the water around your waist and made you squint as he responded:

“No thanks, baby, this is my second life,” he said through a teasing smile, and laid his head back down, with his fingers interlocked behind it, drinking in the sun. 

The screams and laughter of children filled your ears and you felt the burn of the sun on your shoulders as you carefully waded in the water towards him. You had to stifle a laugh when you got close enough to splash him with water. He lifted his head up but it was too late. His bare chest was soaked, droplets rolling down his torso and disappearing into his trunks. Steve was drenched, you were laughing. You laughed so hard the sunglasses you had forgotten were on your head fell off into the water at your feet, and you didn’t have time to reach for them before Steve pulled you by your hands into his body and landed a delicious kiss to your lips. 

Tears were stinging your eyes at the memory and you quickly blinked them away, before Steve noticed them and started asking questions. 

“No, no... nothin’ special, just TV,” you mumbled with a shake of your head, even if he wasn’t looking at you. 

Another moment of silence passed before he spoke again:

“Ran some errands today, went with Bucky to the city a bit,” he muttered plainly. You nodded at his words, and couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heartstrings as he spoke. His words didn’t sound like honey anymore.

“That’s nice...” you trailed off, voice small. Steve spared a glance your way, then sat up straight when he saw how drawn into yourself you were.

“You good?” he asked, leaning his elbows against his knees.

Your eyes never left the paper bag on the table in front of you, deciding it was better if you didn’t look at him. After a short while of silence, filled only by the quiet mumble of some random infomercial coming from the TV, you spoke.

“You never hold me anymore,” you said timidly and looked at him through your lashes, waiting to gauge his reaction. His brows quirked in confusion, then smoothed just as quick, his eyes narrowed.

“Of course I do, what’re you talking about-”

“No, Steve, you don’t.”

He stared at you for a moment, then let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair. 

“You’re looking too much into it,” he told you quietly, keeping his gaze focused on the carpeted floor between his feet instead of looking at you. 

Shaking your head slightly, even though he couldn’t see, a disbelieving smile graced your lips. You shouldn’t have said anything. 

“Steve...,” you started again, reaching forward to grab his hand in yours, “When was the last time we went out?” 

Steve’s eyes tore themselves from the floor and moved to your hand in his. You could practically see the gears in his mind working as he tried recalling the last time the two of you had actually gone somewhere because you wanted to, to be with each other, to relax. 

He shrugged, lifting his head slowly to lock eyes with you. 

“Couldn’t have been that long ago...,” but even he sounded like he didn’t believe it. 

Lips pursed, you sighed through your nose and dropped your head into your hand. You felt him tug his hand away from yours and your head shot up to see him getting up from the couch. Your stare followed his figure as he walked past the paper bag on the table, past the doorway, away from you. You weren’t sure what you should’ve been feeling, but what you felt was pure anger. He always did this; the minute you brought up something serious relationship-wise, he would walk away. Steve, of all people, should know that running from problems doesn’t make them go away. 

You shot up from the couch and stormed after him, guessing he was in the bedroom, and you were right. You slammed the half-shut door open against the wall behind it, causing Steve to turn in his place at the foot of the bed, shirt in hands and eyes wide. 

A small thought nagged at the back of your mind at the sight of his body. Another memory.

A satisfied sigh left your lips when you felt his own against your neck, and you threw your head back against the kitchen cabinet behind you. 

“Stevie...,” you whispered, feeling his hands travel up your thighs to grab your hips and squeeze. 

He hummed against your skin in response, smiling when your legs around his waist tightened ever so slightly. 

Tugging at the t-shirt on his body (that was most likely one size too small, although, you guessed he probably did that on purpose), he got the message and moved away from you just enough to pull the shirt over his head with one hand, the other one resting on your waist. Throwing it behind him somewhere, picking it up became a problem for later as his primary focus now was the way you trailed your fingers across his collarbones and down his chest, kisses against his skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

You had every single bump, curve, soft edge and sharp shadow of his body memorized. You knew it like the back of your hand, and even though you were shit at drawing you felt like you could paint his body exactly the way it was with your eyes closed. Everything about him was bright, so, so bright. Like the sun, it shined and you drank in every drop of him.

You stared at him from the doorway, willing the thought away, for this man that stood in front of you now was like a stranger. His body didn’t give you warmth like the sun, and his lips didn’t taste like sugar anymore. 

“We have to talk about this,” you insisted, and walked towards him when he turned again, throwing the shirt onto the bed and letting out a deep breath.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he stated. His voice was blank, disinterested, and it stung you, every word feeling like a cut to your heart. 

“Steve please,” you begged, grabbing his arm and turning him around to face you. 

“I know you come to bed later at night, and wake up earlier in the morning, for a reason. I can tell you move away from me when I touch you. You don’t even kiss me anymore...,” you trailed off, voice growing quieter by the second when he refused to look at you. He seemed annoyed with the whole situation, and it made you even more furious.

“Would you look at me, for fucks sake?” letting go of his arm and throwing your hands in the air in frustration. 

“You make me feel like I’m not good enough anymore, and you don’t even have the common courtesy to look at me when I speak to you?” you blazed, glaring at him. 

“I never said you weren’t good enough!” he snapped, head turning towards yours. 

“That’s not what it looks like from my side, Steve-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I never said you did,” he said, voice dripping with exasperation. 

“Then what the hell is it?” you pleaded, tears of irritation gathering in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You needed to know, and you weren’t going to bail out now. 

“I just-,” he started, then let out a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You just what?”

Steve threw his head back, staring at the ceiling, hands resting on his hips as he thought of a way to tell you what he needed to.

“You know how... Banner told me I need to put the stones back where we got them from?”

You nodded, confusion filtering your thoughts. What did the stones have to do with this?

“Yeah, that’s in a couple days, isn’t it?” you pressed, and he nodded. 

“I’m... I’m not coming back,” he let out in a quiet voice, and you almost thought you had imagined it.

“What?”

“I mean, I’m coming back, but I won’t... I’m not gonna be the same me anymore. I won’t be your Steve anymore...”

You stared at him for a minute, blinking in confusion and trying to put two and two together. Your mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words.

“I don’t...,” you started, ready to ask him to explain, when he blurted out:

“I’m staying with Peggy.”

The world stilled around you, your senses shutting down all at once. You could feel - no, practically hear the rush of blood to your head, and your breath caught in your throat. The words rang in your mind as he kept his head down, afraid to look at you.

“With... with Peggy?” you whispered once you found your voice again, and he said nothing. 

“So you- you never actually fully loved me,” you meant to ask but it came out as more of a statement. Steve’s head shot up at that and he opened his eyes to deny what you said but you interrupted him before he had the chance to.

“I was just... a filler for you? Someone to pass the time with? You wanted her this whole time?”

Tears started falling slowly down your cheeks, unable to stop them, and Steve’s own eyes were glassy as he frantically shook his head.

“No- no, don’t say that, please-,” he insisted, reaching for your hand, but you tugged it away before he could touch you, suddenly disgusted by the very thought of him touching you while thinking of Peggy the entire time. You felt sick to your stomach and couldn’t help but feel like your whole relationship was built on a lie. A big, fat, heartbreaking lie from the one man on the planet who was supposed to be the epitome of honesty and goodness, and you felt your soul split into a million pieces as you realized you were never going to be enough for him. Never the one he truly, fully wanted, not in this lifetime.

An involuntary chill ran down your spine and you took a step back away from him.

“Stevie, baby,” you purred, plopping down onto the couch beside him, throwing your legs over his lap.

He shot you a big smile, raising his eyebrows to let you know to continue.

“Do you love me?” you asked him.

The tips of his ears went red as he blushed, nodding solemnly, giving your leg a reassuring squeeze. 

“I do, baby, I do,” he said through a grin.

“How much?” you pressed, lifting yourself up to change your position, sitting on his lap with your legs on either side of him. 

“So, so much,” he cooed, lips pressing to yours in a sweet kiss.

“More than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Vision blurry and cheeks wet, you turned sharply and headed for the door, unable to stay near him anymore. You heard him calling out after you, or maybe you didn’t and you just imagined it. You didn’t know, nothing felt real at this point. Your feet carried you to the bathroom and you slammed the door shut behind yourself, locking it. Leaning on the sink with your palms flat against the cool marble, you met your red eyes in the mirror. Not enough, never enough.

You sniffled as you listened to Steve knock on the door, begging and pleading for you to come out so he could explain himself, but you felt a million miles away from him. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a shuddering breath through swollen, teeth-worried lips. 

It was her, it was always her and always would be. You didn’t blame her; you couldn’t. How would she know? Wasn’t her fault. If anything, it was your own fault for allowing yourself to believe that you were somebody’s number 1, somebody’s first and only choice. 

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfiction

[imagines-she-writes]

There’s a fine line between love & hate

There's a Fine Line Between Love and Hate

part 4/?

YN sighs to herself reading the letter over and over again, not sure if she's fully understanding what it says. From her understanding it would mean spending a full twenty four hours with Angel whilst an agent observes them. What could possibly go wrong?

“The fuck is this bull?” Angel demands reading the letter at the templo table. As it was involving the club anything to do with the marriage was discussed at the table so everyone was on board.

“I think it means you have to spend the day together...doing what normal couples do…” Taza explained

“Ain’t nothing about this that's normal” he rubbed his beard with his hands in frustration.

“If its a work day it should be pretty easy right? You'll both be here for most of the day so its only the evening you would have to play pretend” EZ added.

“Ooh you can make Angel lunch in a lil lunch box with little love notes in it” Coco teases, he knew that YN was crushing on the elder Reyes brother, if being in the military taught him one thing besides being a sniper, it was to read the body language of those around him.

“Ass hat” YN mumbles playfully shoving the Mayan by the shoulder.

“How about this? If you're worried about fucking it up why don't you both work here during the day, there won’t be much to see, then in the evening stay home. Angel you can watch the game work on the bike and YN can cook and play house wife?” Hank propositioned to the table. YN’s mouth set in a hard line. It seemed to be too easy and she didn’t think that Angel could do it without slipping up, or thinking about what he was doing.

“They will both try and make this work.. there’s too much riding on this for them not too”

Bishop bangs the gavel with authority and the brothers start to file out one by one.

YN is sitting on one of the picnic benches lost in thoughts when she spots Angel appear beside her. YN hadn't really spoken to him since the last time at the agents office, she didn't now why but something had shifted, changed. Angel had changed in a way that she wasn't used too, it felt foreign to her. “What now?” Yn demands. Angel looks shocked at the outburst.

“Sorry..didn't mean to snap...my mind is flooded right now...I dunno how much more I can handle right now”

“You can talk to me ya know? I know we ain’t exactly the best of friends but...ya know I'm here if you need me..”

Yn gave Angel a small smile. “Thanks, Angel for everything.. agreeing to this”

Angel shrugs his broad shoulders “Whatever the club needs”

“Yeah….So what do you want for dinner on play pretend night?”

“Surprise me… I’m sick of eating TV dinners”.

Yn woke up to startled banging on the door. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she shuffles to the door, the clock in the living room showing 7am who the fuck is this at 7am?!

Yn opens the door a crack to see a man dressed in a drab brown suit. “Yes?”

“Miss Y/L/N? I’m agent Fuentes I will be observing you and Mr Reyes today?”

“It’s today?” The middle aged balding agent nodded “We sometimes turn up un-announced in cases like these.”

“Oh..I see. Uh come in”

Agent Fuentes follows yn into the lounge area observing the setting. Yn silently thanking Hank for having the brain wave to mock up the fake relationship photos. “Can I get you a coffee or something?”

“Coffee would be great thank you…”

After making the coffee yn slips into Angel’s room. “Wake up…”

“Go away” Yn shoves his shoulder harder.

“I’m serious the Agent is here..today as in right now in the living room..Get up!”

“What? That’s not until next week!”

“I know idiot but he’s here now...get up”.

“Sorry I was sleeping..Ahh that photo was taken the day off my best friend’s birthday party. Yn had made this amazing red velvet birthday cake it was the best damn cake I have had...You remember Gilly’s birthday party babe?”

Babe!?

“Sure do sweetie, we’d not been together that long if I remember? Maybe a few months? That was a crazy party for sure”

“Yeah that’s right, now look at us, all grown up getting married and shit”

Fuentes couldn’t look more interested if he tried.

“Miss y/l/n, Mr Reyes please jut go about your day as if I wasn’t here, OK I'm merely here to observe.” Yn nods. Anxiety starts to bubble inside her. They had it all planned but this was a spanner in the works. What would happen if they messed  up?

“Want some breakfast Yn? I'm starving”

“Oh um sure...Want me to cook pancakes?”

“ Nope. S’ok I will fix breakfast ”

After showering and getting ready for the day Yn returned to the kitchen to see to her surprise that Angel had not burned the kitchen down and set the table with fresh pancakes and coffee.

“Dont look so surprised….i can cook pancakes ya know”

“Yeah im shocked the house hasn't burnt down”

“Haha...soo what you doing today?”

Yn shrugged. She really wanted to just sleep and relax today but now she felt ill at ease.

Angel sensed the anxiety radiating from her. He rubs her hand across the table reassuringly.

“we got this” he mouths

The gesture was small but comforted Yn almost instantly.” Now eat...Mom always made sure I could at least cook one thing without killing myself”

Damn you Angel Reyes! Yn cursed to herself. The truth was Yn was falling more and more for Angel each day. The crush that started out as just that a crush was now growing and taking on its own life form that she had no control over.

“Well seeing us we both have the day off how about we do something together?”

“What like?”

“I aint watching your chick flick super ghost hunters crap”

“You mean supernatural and ghost hunters?”

“Ehh...we could go to the zoo?”

“All the time I've lived here I have never been to that zoo...sounds fun”

“It’s a date..im driving”

At the zoo the pair enjoyed looking at all the animals, and was lucky enough to feed the giraffes.Fuenteswas  walking a couple of places behind them. Angel had spoken to Bish & informed him of what was happening and he agreed to let the other MC members know just incase.

Angel slipped his hand into Yns much smaller one. The gesture made her look down at his much larger and calloused hands in shock, but enjoying the feeling all the same even it was fake.

“I had a really nice time today, Thanks Angel”

“Yeah me too, just dont tell the club OK Got a reputation to uphold” He smirked

“What reputation?” Yn smirked

“Shut up… c'mon  starving….There is a burger place nearby”

“Always thinking about food” Yn shook her head laughing.

Later that night going with the original plan Angel worked on his bike, and Yn played the role of pretend house wife. Yn played her favourite music as she set about doing the chores and fixing dinner. Yn went out to the garage to give Angel a beer.

“I could get used to this wifey stuff” he grinned taking a swig of the cold beer.

If only this was real! Why cant this be real!? Why cant you see me like the way I see you?!

Yn thought to herself.

“Don’t get too comfortable..….Its the clubs orders remember?”

Awkward silence filled the space between them.

“Yeah..”

Yn looked down at the ground. “ Dinner won’t be long” with that she turns on her heels and goes back into the house. Yn took a reassuring breath before going back to set the table for dinner.

“Damn babe, meat loaf is almost as good as my mom’s”

“Thanks, I followed her recipe Your pops gave it to me”

Angel raised an eye brow “When? He never gives that out to anyone not even golden boy”

“ Guess Felipe likes me” Yn shrugs grinning.

Later that night Fuentes was made to stay the night so Angel & Yn had to share his room.

“I can take the floor”

“Gods sake Angel we are both adults we can share the bed… “

“You wont find it awkward?”

“This whole thing is awkward Angel….” yn comments getting under the covers.

Angel stood there for a few moments debating his next move.

“Just get in the damn bed”

Angel climbs in to the bed next to Yn. “Night”

After much tossing & turning from both of them Angel sits up in the bed.

“Cant sleep?”

“Nope…”

“same….”

“I feel like theres something missing that I haven’t done”

“Like what?”

Angel shakes his head. “It’s silly”

Yn raised an eyebrow “ Try me”

Angel licked his lips, takes a breath and in one move he pressed his lips to Yns.

It took Yn a few seconds to register what was happening before she started to kiss him back.

Angel moved down to kiss the exposed skin on her collar bone, a small moan escaping from Yns swollen lips.

Suddenly Angel stops. “ Im sorry...I I shouldnt have done that”

Yn pulls Angel back down and kisses him, she can feel his erection through the thin material of his boxers and her pyjama pants. The night is blur of shared secrets, sweaty skin & moans of pleasure.

Angel wakes before Yn and climbs out of bed into the shower. Replays of last night in his head over and over again. The secrets they both shared of souls battered and beaten but Yn was the soothing balm for his tormented thoughts weather she knew this or not. Now he had had her completely he wasnt letting go.

At the club house Yn couldnt keep the small smile of her features all day. This wasnt un noticed by Gilly and Coco. Who just happened to see the hickies on both yn and Angel.

“Bitch you owe me a thousand bucks”

And heres part 4! let me know what you think. im working part 5 right now!

tags: @the-mayan-queen@spnaquakindgdom @oklahomapeach .

#mayans mc imagine #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you

[courseoflove]

Questions

You have lots of questions for Harry and he tries his best to answer each of them.

a/n: hiiiii, think it’s been almost a year since I last posted my writing and I’m finally back! thanks to @oh-honey-styles‘s new fic slam prompts, I was able to curate something I liked enough to share. usually it’d take me lotssss of drafts to be satisfied and happy with something but this one only took 2! I hope you enjoy it and pleaaaaseee be kind ⭐️😸 I’d love to hear your thoughts!

warning: this is just pureee filth. not really smut, but filthy regardless.

Word Count: 1,775

Harry’s forest eyes ogle straight at you, lips pressed in a tight line and twitching on one side to form a smirk that he tried his very best not to show.

That was definitely the last thing he expected to come out of your mouth. He thought you just needed help with something minuscule, like putting together new furniture, fixing the wifi, or help pick out an outfit; things you’ve urgently called him about before. He never, ever thought you’d call him one day and ask for this, a lesson on blowjobs out of all things.

Luckily, sex has never been a taboo topic between the two of you, considering he’s the first person you yell to when you’re letting out your frustrations about your lack of experiences, or vice versa when he just had an intercourse dilemma that continues to leave an everlasting impact on him. But when you’re asking him about giving good oral pleasure, his brain is suddenly void of any thoughts that should help the situation at hand.

“Quit smirking at me, I’m serious!” Harry flinches when you throw a pillow at him from across the other side of the sofa, instantly wiping the smirk off of his face and instead letting out a soft chuckle when he successfully catches it. You throw him an intense yet jest glare, “just. Today at work. I dunno. I just need to know. I want to know.”

“How d’you suppose I do that?” he asks cautiously, leaning forward to settle his elbows on his knees and prop his chin up with the palm of his hand, “teach you, I mean.”

You’re usually never embarrassed around Harry, despite the many weird and unusual conversations you’ve both had during sobriety and drunkenness. You don’t remember ever feeling even the slightest bit awkward or sheepish when you told him about how IUDs work, or giving him a very vivid description of how exactly you feel during your menstruation cycle. He takes it all in and listens with amusement, sometimes with a bowl of extra-buttered popcorn on his lap.

But right now, in this exact moment, you feel slightly skittish and jittery, as if blowjobs were something you’re just now learning about. He can sense it, especially with the way you’re averting your gaze from his eyes to the silent flatscreen tv nailed on your wall — thanks to him. You’re also doing that thing he constantly scolds you for whenever you’re anxious and nervous, chewing ferociously on your bottom lip and squeezing your fingers into a fist to the point your nails will sink on your palm and pop your veins.

“Stop that, you’ll bleed,” he cuts the silence off, “and answer my question.”

You unclench your fist and turn towards him again, barely making eye contact and instead looking at the lovely framed painting hung on the wall behind him, “maybe just describe it?”

“It’s really not that complicated,” was all Harry said. He leans back against your soft couch, taking both of your feet with his hands and settling them on his lap to crack each of your toes. You flinch a little on his first try, turning your focus and watching his fingers work against your skin, “think of a lollipop. Or popsicles, something of the sorts. You put it in your mouth and just… suck. Lick. Move your mouth, without the teeth.”

Suck. Lick. Move your mouth; the words that tumbles out of his lips causes you to flush, your whole body heating up and turning beet red, the color dancing across your nose and emphasizing your imperfections flawlessly.

What Harry said was pretty accurate. It’s not as detailed as you want but you don’t really know how to ask for that without feeling mortified and even more flustered. He said it exactly how it is; you just put your mouth around it, suction your cheeks, use your tongue and bob your head. But you feel like there was something missing, as if there should be more to that. Well, because there is. You want to know more.

His fingers have started to dance their way to your calf, squeezing the deep tissues there in a tender and leisure massage to try and get rid of your tensed muscles. You’re wincing in between syllables when you finally speak after a couple of seconds, “question. It might be weird. Just… just tell me if you don’t wanna answer.”

His eyes lock with yours when he hums for you to continue, a strand of curl falling over his forehead and tickling his brow while his bottom lip gets caught in between his teeth in concentration. He presses his warm hands on your leg forcefully and harder and it helps calm your nerves and neurons, your habit of overthinking in situations like this disappearing little by little the more he moves. The lack of poise you had minutes ago is lessening and your question is on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst at the seams and be voiced aloud.

With your face turning a lot redder and goosebumps developing on your skin from head to toe out of the blue, you ask with your voice a little lower than it was a while ago, “will you tell me what you like? When.. you know.”

Harry’s movements quickly halt. Another unexpected turn. Another question he never, ever thought would come out of your mouth to ask him.

He lets go of his lip and keeps his mouth agape, irises instantaneously dilating and darkening under your lemon-yellow light and turning them into an even darker shade, like a week old leaf. His brain performs a short circuit for a few moments that passes by in silence before he finally swallows and says, “you want to know what I like when I’m getting head?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, feeling even more ridiculous the more you look into his eyes and open your mouth, “I mean, you have the most experience out of the two of us. That’s why I asked in the first place, but I feel — I feel like your first answer doesn’t really — it’s just not satisfying me. There has to be more to it than just.. sucking, I dunno.”

Sure, you talk to one another about sex casually; what one undergos and encounters and what the other simply has no preconceived notions of. Harry would tell his stories in the least disgusting way possible, knowing you’ll groan out loud and tease him about it if he gives away any sort of detail, but there was almost always zero utterance on your end. No lingering and continuous curiosity. You asking about what he likes when he’s getting head is very much unforeseen and maybe even a bit… amiss, especially for you.

However, he can detect a genuine inquisitiveness in your expression. You’re probably one of the hardest people to read on the surface, but he senses that there was more to that interest than just simply wanting to know. At least, he’s hoping there is.

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling a bit weird now the more he gawks at you and doesn’t make a single move to respond. You open your mouth to backtrack when his hesitancy becomes clear, but before you can even take your question back, he’s already mouthing a three-syllable word out loud, “mouth-fucking.”

A low gasp leaves your mouth and the sound doesn’t miss Harry’s eardrums. He should want to take it back, shove the words back in his throat and never say it again despite not being able to. Still and all, he realizes that he likes what you asked and the fact he gave you an answer, a brief one but an honest and precise answer nonetheless. The way your skin warms against the palm of his hands makes him start to sweat, your bare face becoming even more flushed if possible. You don’t really know what kind of answer your mind presumed, but it obviously wasn’t that.

You’re aware of Harry’s self-confidence and boldness when it comes to sex. He has lots of it and it doesn’t come as a surprise. So when he opens his mouth again to explain exactly what he meant, you were able to hold your second gasp back and instead listen in. You can just imagine how filthy he is in bed, considering the description he gives you seems to be even more graphic and explicit, “like normal sex, but I’m doing it to their mouth. I like the sound, the sloppiness of it all, it fuels me. I like being in control, I guess, and no one wants a dry blowjob. I like it really wet.”

You startle both yourself and him when you utter, “what else?”

Harry clears his throat and looks away from your eyes, not because of discomfort because there was absolutely none, but for the reason that the more he stares the more he pictures you inside his head doing exactly what he was evoking. He blinks a couple of times in an attempt to get rid of the colorful conception, yet it just becomes even more lucid and clear-cut. He tries to distract himself by continuing to answer your questions. It definitely doesn’t help. It just drags the mental image on.

“I like it when they let me come down their throat, then swallow it. Or when — when the aftermath of pure bliss just overtakes my entire body. Like, they just pull away for a second then suck me right back in,” the skin on your legs feel sticky under his hold. You swallow at his dazed appearance and tiny smirk, as if he’s picturing it all in his head. And he is, “yeah. I like that a lot.”

Somehow it’s gotten a lot warmer inside the tiny space of your living room, every corner closing in on the two of you in your peripheral vision and you can’t exactly make out the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers and in between your thighs. Well, you do. You know you’re undoubtedly turned on but acting clueless and ignoring it would be the best way to handle it.

You ask him one more question, the last one you’ll emit for the rest of the evening, “and how was it for them?”

Harry turns his head, connecting his darkened eyes with yours. There’s an indecipherable message written all over his handsome face. His voice is heavy, raspier and deeper with his accent when he answers for the last time, a specific implication behind his tone, “one of these days, you’ll see.”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry fic #fic slam #harry styles fic slam #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #fluff #harry styles love #fanfic #fanfiction #1d #one direction #one direction fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #drabble #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader #my fic ☺️ #harry #styles

[drawlfoy]

detention retention finale p.2 (the real finale!)

masterlist (catch up on parts 1, 2, and the first half of the finale here!)

request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no my original idea

summary: gryffindor and friend of the golden trio y/n y/l/n is tasked with getting close to malfoy to learn his secret in 6th year. things quickly become more complicated.

warnings: (please pay attention this time around) nsfw content, implied sex, swearing, character death. however, if you are sensitive to gore know that this one is a lot less graphic than the first half of the finale

a/n: wow. here we are! this part is going to be considerably more light hearted than the first part. ngl while writing this i reread my 8th grade diary when i spent hours overanalyzing what my crushes did/said and i kind of wanted to emulate that school crush feeling of “does he like me does he not”. if this seems like a weird turn considering how dark things were in the last chapter, i’m sorry i just really wanted to give poor draco and y/n a break fdajkfls. i hope you guys like it :) 

word count: 16.1k (the longest part of them all...lmfao)

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

here’s a spotify playlist i made for this!

enjoy!

Back at the Gryffindor tower, she was met with a surprise: Ron, sitting cross-legged on her bed, paging through a random Quidditch catalog he stole from Fred. 

“Hi, Ron,” greeted Y/N tentatively. Despite the fact that Harry and Hermione had both been outwardly stand-offish towards her, Ron had, for the most part, remained neutral. “What’s up?”

He jerked his head upwards, his eyes wide. “Sorry, er, you scared me. Hey, Y/N.” Ron awkwardly waved. 

“Is something...going on?”

“Oh.” He uncrossed his legs and sat up straight, his thumbs twiddling together in his lap. “I just wanted to, erm, have a chat with you. I know Hermione and Harry are a little angry with you still, but I miss you. And I don’t think they’re right in doing this to you.”

Y/N allowed her shoulders to sag in relief as she joined him, letting the bed sink under both of their weight. “I understand why they’re upset. I just felt so bad, you know. Drac--Malfoy is going through a lot right now, and even though he’s been a prat to you guys, all of a sudden it was like I would be a horrible person to ignore what’s been going on with him.”

“Harry and Hermione think it’s because you’re a pureblood,” Ron said. “That’s mostly why I came to talk to you. Harry said something before the day in the bathroom about how he wasn’t surprised ‘your kind’ was so quick to turn on us.”

“Does he not know that you’re literally a--”

“Exactly.” A nervous laugh left Ron’s lips. “I mentioned that, and I think he realized how messed up that line of thought was. Anyways, he feels proper terrible about hurting you the way he did. I think you’ll have to wait around a bit before he swallows his pride and apologizes to you himself, but he hasn’t been the same since what happened before the break.”

“Wow.” Y/N allowed that thought to sink in. “And...Hermione?”

“She’s still hurt,” admitted Ron. “Can you blame her, though? One of her best friends starts messing around with her childhood bully?”

She winced. “I know, I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re not...like that.”

“I think you should try talking to her again. I’m not sure why you’re so insistent on keeping a promise to Malfoy, but nothing’s going to change unless you tell her why you did what you did.”

“Thanks, Ron.” Y/N reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Also, I don’t want to be gossipy or anything, but I think you should leave Lavender for Hermione.”

Ron balked. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s just an idea,” said Y/N, shrugging. “I just have a feeling you two would be really cute together. I dunno what it is. Just an inkling of a thought.”

“I would never leave Lavender,” he said, frowning as his eyes hazed over. “I would never do that…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Y/N smirked, elbowing him in the side. He grinned at her, the dimples easily forming in the freckled skin of his cheek. 

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Hermione Granger was not a difficult witch to locate. All Y/N had to do was wait until prime studying hours before searching the library’s long halls until she found the bushy head of hair craned intently over a large textbook.

“Hermione.”

At her voice, Hermione snapped to attention, a sour expression forming on her face. “What do you want?” She didn’t even wait for a response, dipping her head back down and continuing to take notes.

“I want to apologize, properly, for what happened,” Y/N said, settling into the seat across from her and dropping her voice. “I know I didn’t give you a very good explanation about what was going on, and I know I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

“I’m not interested in hearing what you have to say right now, Y/L/N.”

She brushed off the pain of her last name being used instead of her given name and continued. “I know you must be really hurt that I got close with Malfoy, especially considering how cruel he was to you.”

Hermione remained silent.

“I know that I’ll never understand how it feels to be an outsider in this world,” she said. “I’m sorry that I can’t change what happened in the past. You’re allowed to be as angry as you want with me. Believe me when I say that I never meant to lie to or to deceive you. You had to have noticed how different Malfoy looks. He needed someone, and I was there. He might not deserve that kind of treatment, especially not from you, but it would’ve been wrong of me to just let him suffer on his own.”

Hermione finally met her eyes, a few tears shining in the deep brown depths of her stare. “I don’t understand how you could overlook all the things he’s said about me. Is...that what you think of me, too?”

“Of course not, Hermione,” exclaimed Y/N. The angry shh from the table over made her drop her voice once again. “You’re twice as capable as my entire bloodline combined. You have every right to be part of this world. You are part of this world and you always have been. If I thought that Draco hadn’t changed, I wouldn’t have become friends with him.”

“You call him Draco now?”

“He’s my friend. And I think that if things were a little different, he’d actually defect from his family’s beliefs and join our side. Living firsthand in the close proximity of Death Eaters really took a toll on him.”

Hermione chewed her lip. “This is really hard. I don’t know what to say.”

“I miss you,” confessed Y/N. “And, to be honest, I felt quite left out, too. I know you and Harry and Ron have important confidential business to attend to, but the way it was treated made it seem like I was too stupid to hear about or understand it. Draco didn’t make me feel that way, and I liked it.”

To her surprise, Hermione’s features softened. “I’m sorry. I really am, Y/N. I don’t know why I didn’t realize earlier how unfair we were to you about that.”

“Really?” 

She shrugged. “I think so.”

“Are we okay, then?”

Hermione frowned a little deeper as her idle hand allowed her quill to dribble ink over the fresh parchment she used. “Not really. I think I need some time. It’s hard for me to feel like I can trust you again after all of this.”

“I completely understand,” Y/N rushed out. “Hopefully one day things will be better, yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Hermione offered her a small smile before turning back to her work. If it had been another time, Y/N would’ve invited herself to sit across from her and distract her as she tried to study, telling Hermione all about her day and how much she wanted to drop kick Goyle across the Quidditch pitch, but it was different now, and she knew that. 

Without another word, Y/N got up and left her old friend in her library. 

Her dorm was rather quiet as she settled back into her bed for the second time that day, this time happy to find it entirely empty. It was a Sunday, after all, and she had an entire stack of homework to try and drag herself through before her classes the next day. 

As her fingers began to card through the messy parchment of her desk, she took notice of an item that hadn’t been there before--a crimson red envelope, embossed with glittery golden piping and a roaring lion. Her family crest.

Y/N tore into the parchment as she wracked her brain to try and guess the contents. A howler? No, she’d been (mostly) good. A gift? She hadn’t been that good. What awaited her was much more underwhelming--just a boring old piece of parchment with black ink penned in her father’s handwriting. 

But the news that it brought her had the memories from Christmas Break rushing back.

~

The next day, he was sitting in his Potions seat, making small talk with Pansy that coaxed a few laughs out of both students like nothing had happened the day before. Their eyes met briefly before he uncomfortably cleared his throat and turned away, back to Pansy’s animated speech over how ridiculous this class was. 

Her heart ached at the sight. How could he act like nothing had ever happened between them? How could he just evade eye contact like that? Y/N felt a wave of uncontrollable jealousy wash over her when the thought of Pansy lying in his silk sheets with the knowledge that she was actually HIS, that he actually wanted her. It was all she could do to avert her eyes and pretend it didn’t happen, though Draco wasn’t exactly ignoring her anymore, which was almost worse. Now that she knew he only saw her as a friend, it only hurt so much more when he would chivalrously offer to walk her back to the library at night or say polite hellos to her in the halls. 

The days began to bleed into each other again, speeding along even quicker now that she actually had people to sit with during meals and to talk to during common hours. Hermione and Ron had begun speaking to her again, though Harry was still making himself sparse whenever she appeared in a group.

To her surprise, though, that changed one day when a paper crane fluttered onto her desk in Charms. She opened it quickly, hoping desperately (and against her will) that it was from Draco, but instead she was greeted with a messy scrawl that she knew very well.

Meet me after practice on the pitch if you’d be okay with talking to me. -Harry

Despite the recent events, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for the many times that Harry had written her similar notes, back when their relationship wasn’t rocky and she was actually helping the Trio. That wistfulness was quickly replaced with anxiety when she tried to figure out what to expect from Harry.

“Y/N,” he greeted her a few hours later. She rose from her seat on the bleachers and began to walk alongside him.

“Hi Harry.”

“Listen,” he began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I know I’m not very good at talking about feelings--that’s why I’ve been putting this off for so long--but you deserve an apology for what happened in Myrtle’s bathroom. I don’t think I’ll ever understand your connection with Malfoy, but that isn’t an excuse for what happened.”

Well, this was going better than expected. “I’m not going to lie and say that it’s okay that you hexed me, but I don’t blame you all that much.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “That’s, er, really good to hear, Y/N. I am so, so sorry for what I did to you. Are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” responded Y/N. “Madame Pomfrey even said that the scarring might go away.” The way the blood drained out of his face made her realize that that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Oh, Merlin, there’s scarring?”

“Forget I said that,” replied Y/N, placing a hand comfortingly on his arm. “Water under the bridge. It really is okay.”

“Well…” He coughed awkwardly as they neared the castle’s entrance. “I think I owe you an explanation as well. If you want one, that is.”

“Shoot,” she said. “Preferably not a deadly curse at me, though.”

If Harry thought that was funny, he certainly didn’t show it. “Looking back on what happened, it was all just a complete blur. I lost control.”

“Because I hadn’t told you about Malfoy?”

“Oh, well…” He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. “Obviously I was angry that you’d lied to us. And I was angry at Malfoy over Katie Bell. But that wasn’t what made me lose control. It was seeing you together. There was this moment before either of you noticed I was there and it just made me sick to my stomach to watch. Merlin, the way he…” Harry trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “The way he looked at you. It just boiled my blood.”

“What do you mean?” asked Y/N, beginning to grow more and more confused. How could Harry have seen something that wasn’t even there in the first place? 

“And the way you two looked at each other in Potions,” he continued, clearly not planning on answering her question. “It makes me sick. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He doesn’t see me that way, Harry,” she said, her voice little.

“Has he told you that?”

“As a matter of fact he has.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she replied, holding his palms up in a surrender. “It’s not as if it came as a surprise or anything. Plus, not like I care. Just because I don’t want to see him get hurt does not mean I have feelings for him.” Y/N was talking too animatedly, something that prompted her friend to tilt his head and send her a curious look. 

“Right. Well…” Harry stood up, brushing his robes off. “If I didn’t make it clear enough already, I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever understand what you see in him. But you haven’t lost me. I just hope I haven’t lost you.”

Y/N gave him a grateful smile before launching into his arms. He started, but once Y/N had her arms around his neck, he hugged her back. She breathed in the familiar woodsy smell she’d known since she was 11 and swallowed the lump in her throat. “I missed you, Harry.”

“I missed you too. So much.” 

She was just about to poke fun at him for being sappy when someone pointedly cleared their throat behind them, prompting her to spin around and prepare to tell someone off for interrupting her conversation. Once she saw who it was before her, though, she froze. 

“Try and keep the PDA at a minimum, yeah?” Draco Malfoy said, his lips twisted into a bored scowl.

“Draco,” she warned. He simply arched an eyebrow at her before swiftly passing by the two, being sure to brush harshly against Harry’s shoulder.

“What has gotten into him?” she asked in astonishment. “Merlin, it’s like we time traveled back to 5th year or something.” 

He scoffed at her side. “Y/N, what did I tell you?”

The next day, Draco wasn’t at breakfast. Y/N tried not to think too much about his empty seat as she listened to Ron ramble on about how crazy Lavender was being. She had finally migrated over to the Gryffindor table, bringing her new Ravenclaw friend along with her. Hermione was still giving her side eye, but it was better than being treated like a complete outcast. This time around, Parkinson was gone from the Slytherin table, too. The thought of Pansy being the one to comfort him filled her chest with the slimy coolness of jealousy, but instead of dwelling on it further, she stabbed her fork through the strawberry on her plate and took a bite. If he wanted to mess around with her, he could. Merlin knew he needed some sort of distraction. But her most private thoughts couldn’t help but wonder if he ever had feelings for her. There were so many moments that made her think otherwise--the way he’d blush when she said anything flirtatious, how eager he had been to walk her to her dorm, all the glances sent her way…

It was at moments like these when Y/N sternly reminded herself that they were just friends and that was all he’d ever seen her as. Friends brushed hands. Friends walked each other to their dorms. Friends stared across the room at each other sometimes. Friends gave each other gifts. Hermione, Ron, and Luna had all acted similarly to her in the past and it was entirely platonic. She was just overanalyzing.

He didn’t show up to Potions, Charms, or Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape was giving her the eye, and Y/N uncomfortably shifted in her chair as she wondered if the wizard had found out it was her who stole the Veritaserum.

“As you all may know,” he drawled, stalking the perimeter of the classroom, “A particular potion of mine has been...misplaced. If any of you happen to know where it is, I suggest you confess now.”

Nervous chatter erupted around the room as Snape’s eyes bored into hers. Was he using Legilimency on her? Wouldn’t she feel something? Despite her worries, he broke eye contact and spun around to the board, scrawling the topic of the lesson on the chalkboard. Y/N reminded herself to breathe. 

He wasn’t at lunch, Transfiguration, or dinner. Y/N was starting to believe that Draco had just up and left Hogwarts as she began to get ready for bed, showering off the day and dressing in comfier clothes. For once, her homework load had been lightened to the point where she could put it off for a full day. Diffuser on, windows open, and sleeping clothes on, Y/N was ready and settled into bed early with nothing but her racing thoughts to keep her company.

Was Draco okay? Did something happen with his task? Where was he?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light rap on her door.

“Y/N?” A young girl’s voice, muffled but distinguishable through the heavy wooden door shook her out of it. She groaned, throwing the blankets off her and closing her hand around the doorknob. She wasn’t even a prefect, but for some god-forsaken reason the first-years always went to her instead.

“Candace,” she greeted. “What’s cracking?”

“Someone wants to see you.” The first-year’s voice sounded shakier than usual. Y/N finally cast her eyes up from the short girl to take in the sight of a rather disheveled looking Draco Malfoy standing in her hallway.

“Draco? What are you doing here?” 

He cleared his throat. “Are you busy?”

“Candace,” Y/N said, addressing the eleven year old in front of her first, “Thanks for helping Draco. You should go to bed, you know. It’s late.”

Wide-eyed, Candace dashed off without any protest. Y/N cast a raised brow to Draco and tried to look like she hadn’t spent the past 12 hours obsessing over his disappearance. “You better have a good reason for showing up at my dorm in the middle of the night and scaring one of my first-years to death.”

“She wasn’t scared,” he argued.

“You must be horrible with reading children,” stated Y/N. “Anyways, is this a conversation that you want to have in my dorm hall? Or would you prefer to come inside?”

He tilted his head towards the doorway. “May I?”

“Er...sure. Come on in.” She bit back the quip about already offering. “What’s going on? You missed all your classes today.”

“I’m aware,” he responded drily as he sat down on the same spot she’d just been nearly asleep on. “I just...something happened last night. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Y/N tried not to blush at how flattered she was. He didn’t even like her. Why was she acting like that still? Friends did this sort of thing. Friends were there for each other. “Oh. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want to just take your mind off of it?”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment before exhaling a deep sigh. “I don’t know. Maybe take my mind off it until I feel ready to talk about it.”

Y/N gave him a small smile, leading him by the cuff of his sleeve over to her window. “I think I know something we can do. Grab a pillow and a blanket.”

He did as she asked while she opened up the window wider until it was large enough to crawl through, spelling the tiles of the roof outside clean. 

“Are we going on the roof?”

“As long as you’re not too scared of heights, yeah,” she responded, using her desk as a stepping stool while she swung the rest of her body out on the old Hogwarts roof. Despite the age of the castle, the structure was thankfully sturdy. “Pass me anything you want out here. I’ll get it set up for us.”

“I’m not sitting on that dirty roof,” he said, his usual snotty tone creeping into his voice as he handed her a blanket for each of them. 

“Okayyy, Your Highness.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “We can sit on my blanket.” True to her word, she took the one she usually slept with and covered the tiles. “Will you come sit with me now?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He settled in next to her, his own blanket barely draped over his knees while she sat cross legged at his side, trying not to shiver from the cold late winter air. “Wow. This is actually a better view than from the Astronomy tower.”

“I know, right?” she said, trying to ignore how her heart fluttered every time he looked at her. “You can see Hogsmeade from here, too.”

The pair watched the scenery before them in silence. Y/N drank in the landscape bathed in soft moonlight, the winding creeks leading into the Dark Forest reflecting the moon while the Black Lake’s waves gently lapped at the shores. 

“I come up here sometimes when I get stressed,” she confessed after a little while. Draco turned to look at her, his lips slightly quirked up and his eyes soft. 

“Yeah?”

“It just helps clear my head,” she continued. “I feel really lucky to live in the Tower. It must be kind of weird to know that if you opened your window you’d just flood your room.”

Draco snorted. “You get used to it.”

Y/N hummed in something that felt a little like agreement.

He shuffled, clearing his throat. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you this since that night. I’m…sorry that I can’t give you what you want.”

“It’s really okay,” she said, her cheeks growing hot. “I understand. You can’t change how you feel. I’m happy to be your friend and eventually that’s all I’ll ever want.”

Draco dipped his head in a nod of acknowledgement when a brilliant display of lights suddenly exploded over Hogsmeade. Fireworks. They were obviously magic, charmed to glitter in the shape of the words, “Happy Birthday, Margie!”

“Oh my god, happy birthday Margie,” Y/N echoed, eager for the distraction of their conversation.

“I wonder how old she’s turning.”

“I bet she’s 34,” said Y/N. 

“32.”

“33, maybe, but that’s pushing it.”

She returned his grin before she felt something hit the top of her head--a raindrop, fat and cold--and roll down the back of her neck. “Shit. I think it’s going to rain soon. Do you want to go back in?”

As if to accentuate her point, the clouds above them rumbled. Draco shrugged. “If you want. I kind of like staying out here, though.”

“Me too.”

They sat in the quiet for a few more moments, the only sound coming from the soft patter of the rain and the occasional boom of Margie’s birthday fireworks. Y/N began to shiver as the raindrops became more frequent, her loose sleeping shirt and her shorts not really doing much for her. All of a sudden, she felt something fuzzy on top of her head.

She looked to her left to see that Draco had lifted his blanket to drape over both of them, creating a tent of some sort. “Thanks, Draco.”

“Don’t mention it.” His smile set off the butterflies in her stomach once again, but she beat them back. The fireworks continued, now switching to a glittering sage green. “I bet Margie was a Slytherin.”

“Or maybe she just likes sage green,” argued Y/N. 

“Maybe.” He held her gaze for what felt like a second too long before clearing his throat and turning his attention back onto the night sky. It occurred to her at that moment that they could’ve just transfigured the pillows they were sitting on into umbrellas, but traitorously, she didn’t want to mention it if it meant she lost her chance to be near him. 

She felt something lightly brush past the hand she had rested in the space between them but thought nothing of it, instead focusing on her breathing and making sure she didn’t sound like she was hyperventilating because she most certainly felt like she wanted to. She’d never shared her special roof spot with anyone, not even Harry or Ron. But he didn’t know that. 

The fireworks exploded with a crescendo of motion as multiple green sparkles were launched into the air, crackling and sparking with energy. At any other point in time, Y/N would’ve found it easy to focus on the beauty of the show, but something else caught her attention: the fact that Draco’s hand was now set directly next to hers, the edge of his touching her with the lightest of pressures. Every nerve ending in her left hand felt like it was burning with energy as Draco, without even sparing a glance in her direction, inched his hand over just enough for his pinky to overlap with hers.

Y/N tried to remember how to breathe as her thoughts ran wild. Friends touched hands sometimes. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe he didn’t even know it was her hand.

She heard Draco’s own breath hitch in his throat as his hand finally slipped under hers, intertwining their fingers and turning them so her hand rested in his palm. 

Friends held hands sometimes. There was nothing romantic about this. Nope. This was normal. Y/N’s frenzied thoughts were interrupted by Draco’s voice.

“You know how much danger my family is in,” he said, finally revealing what had him so shaken up. “Well, I got a letter from my mother last night. Apparently she’s been getting these strange, veiled threats. She can’t identify the owl and it seems like whoever this is is hell-bent on breaking into the manor. My aunt and the rest of the Death Eaters have been ridiculing her for even worrying about it.”

Y/N started to feel a guilty pit in her stomach. The letter her father sent her was beginning to make more sense. “Draco, that’s awful.”

“Do you think that maybe they’re the ones who are sending them to her?” he asked, his voice raising an octave at the end, flourished with a small crack in his tone. “As a way to rush me to the end of my task?”

Draco had slowly leaned into her as he told her his worries, and Y/N found herself gently squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this on top of everything else. This isn’t fair to you. Is there anything I can do to help you? Do you need help solving the cabinet?”

He shook his head, casting his gaze down to their hands. “Is it okay if I just stay here for a little?”

“Of course you can,” she said, immediately regretting her words. Having him around would only make her feel worse. Was this how he treated all of his friends? She held back an ill-timed chuckle at the thought of him holding hands with Goyle. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” His eyes were so light that she could still see the silver hue of them in the dark, reflecting what little moonlight found him under the blanket. “You know, I’m glad we had detention together. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Pansy kept badgering me all day about how she could help instead of actually listening and Blaise just told me that if I kept moping around he’d nab my mother himself.”

“Oh,” said Y/N. Jealousy surged through her as she thought again about Pansy. When she held hands with him, she probably never had to wonder what it meant. “Do they know about…”

“Not everything,” Draco clarified. “That’s just you. They just know about my current house guests. I haven’t told them any specifics.”

Another pang of guilt rattled through Y/N as she ran through the information she’d gotten the night prior in her head while he squeezed her hand back, his thumb running along her skin. She felt like the shame of not mentioning it earlier was burning her up.

“Draco, I need to tell you something.” The makeshift blanket tent all of a sudden felt like the most intimate location in the world as he turned to face her fully, now gripping her hand with two of his own and leaning closer, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “What is it?”

“I…” She trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut as she mentally ran through the contents of the parchment on her desk. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of rain and Draco’s breathing. 

“If this is what I think it is, then I--”

“I’m not about to confess to you again literally right after being rejected,” she snipped back, pulling her hands from his grip in a moment of unexpected humiliation. “I’m not that stupid.”

Draco took his own hands, now empty, and folded them neatly on his thigh. He stopped meeting her eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t--I wasn’t going to--”

“It’s--no, I’m sorry.” Y/N found herself angry that she gave up her excuse to hold his hand. “That was just a little embarrassing for me. I promise I won’t bring it up again. This is something totally different.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” To her surprise, there was no usual teasing lilt to his tone; he was being entirely genuine.

“I want you to know that we can call this off at any time,” she began, watching his blank expression carefully should it change, “But I hope you think about this.”

“Think about what?”

“I’m kidnapping your mom.” 

There. It was out. Draco’s mouth had long since fallen open, a look of mild horror on his face. “What the actual fuck?”

“Let me explain,” Y/N rushed. “The Order owes my family a favor. My mom knew yours. I may have mentioned something about the treatment towards her over the holidays and now my family is orchestrating a way to fake a kidnapping-turned-murder situation to get her out.”

He blinked at her.

“Of course we can call it off anytime you want,” Y/N repeated. She cast a quick Accio (something she was surprised worked considering how shaky she was) and summoned her father’s letter from her desk, thrusting it into his arms. “Read this. It has all the details.”

Draco scanned the document without a single word leaving his lips.

“You’re scaring me, Draco. What do you think?”

“You have an Italian beach cottage?” he asked. 

“Apparently so,” answered Y/N. “I’ve never been there, but we haven’t actually registered it through the British Ministry. If we hide your mother there, no one is going to be able to find her. She’s not required to give up information to the Order, either--I mean, we kind of hope that she will, but there’s no mandated amount of intel to keep her safe.”

“And I can…”

“Yes. After your task is straightened out, you can join her if you want.” She hardly finished her sentence before Draco’s arms pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever been given in her life.

“I can’t believe you did that,” he mumbled, his voice strained. “How did you...wow. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Her voice was muffled by his shoulder. “I’m just glad I could help.”

He finally pulled away, still keeping his hands gently placed on her forearms. She tried to keep her thoughts from straying too much as he gazed down at her, a slightly sad downturn in his lips. The way he was looking at her began to make her even more nervous.

“Well, it’s getting late,” she stated. “I want to get up early tomorrow so I’m not too late to Potions. Are you feeling better?”

Draco cleared his throat. “Er, yes. I suppose so. Thanks again, Y/N. I’m assuming this is when you kick me out?”

“Don’t say it like that.” She spelled her blanket clean from under him and stepped back into her room, turning to face him. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I’m glad you felt like you could come to me.”

He sent her a small smile before swinging his legs over the windowsill and making his way to the door. “I hope you have a good night. Sleep well.” He went in for another hug, but this time Y/N accidentally leaned the same direction as him, nearly crashing her lips into his.

“Shit, sorry,” she murmured as she quickly corrected herself to lean the other way--and was horrified to find that he had done the exact thing as well, barely dodging him this time and instead reeling herself back as far as his hold on her allowed. Draco let out a nervous laugh, letting her go and stepping away, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well. That was poorly timed considering the conversation we had,” he pointed out. What stellar observational skills.

“Er, yeah. Well…” Y/N held her hand out and immediately felt herself cringe. “Here’s to being good friends.”

He took her hand in his and tentatively shook it, a sort of half-smirk dancing on his lips as his eyebrow raised. “To being good friends. I’ll see you later.”

Then he was gone, and Y/N was able to flop back on her bed and frantically sort through her thoughts in peace. He’d almost--no, she’d almost--well, they both had almost kissed. As friends, though. Obviously.

This is ridiculous. She pulled a blanket up around her and immediately froze when she breathed in--black tea and sage, just as she remembered. She decided it was high time to switch her blankets anyways and tossed that one in the laundry bin.

~

“And then guess what she said?”

“Come on, we’re waiting,” Y/N said to Ron as they chattered over their cauldron in Potions together, flanked by the rest of her Gryffindor friends.

“Lavender said I’m obviously pining after Hermione because I keep asking her to study with me.”

“No!” came from Neville after a theatrical gasp. “She did not.” 

“She literally did, mate,” Harry cut in. “I saw it myself. Honestly, I think she might be onto something. I’ve always sensed some sort of tension between you two.”

“I think Harry’s right, as much as it pains me to say it,” she teased, giving her friend a little shove. Seamus had just opened his mouth to start talking when the sound of shattering glass prompted them all to whip around to face the Slytherin section. Draco Malfoy stood awkwardly clutching the broken remains of a glass vial in his hand like he was still in disbelief over what had occurred. 

“Malfoy, boy, is everything alright over there?” Slughorn asked from the front.

“Yes,” he said quickly, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what happened.”

“You should sleep more,” the professor continued. “It’s harder to control your magic when you’re young and exhausted.”

Draco just nodded, his gaze turning over to meet Y/N’s worried one. She tilted her head, mouthing, “Are you okay?”. He sent her a tight smile and nodded, though Pansy sent her a very dirty look. 

“So that was weird,” said Y/N, turning back around to face Harry. “I haven’t broken glass by losing control of my magic since I was a kid.”

“One time I let a snake out in a muggle zoo,” said Harry, his eyes miles away as he traveled down memory lane.

“You what now?”

“I can’t believe I never told you that.”

“I think I would’ve remembered that. What’d you do, whisper in its ear about how the only thing it has to lose is its chains or something until he was motivated enough to escape?”

Harry laughed. “No. I vanished the glass. And then it thanked me, which was horribly alarming for a kid who had no idea what magic was.”

“You poor, poor thing,” she mocked before Slughorn dismissed them and they began to make their way together down the hall. “Suffering from success.”

Harry chuckled, and Y/N felt a surge of affection for the fact that they were friends once again. “Basically the story of my life. Anyways, I’m off to see Snape.”

“Merlin, are you okay?” asked Y/N, holding her hand to his forehead and miming the motion of checking for a fever. “On your own time?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s alright,” he said, suddenly looking more somber. “I’m just serving detention for what happened in the bathroom. I am still very sorry about that, you know. If you wanted to curse me to get back at me, I’d understand.”

She shoved him forward, a smile dancing on her lips as she said, “Go on, suffer for my honor.” Then she felt a hand pull her back into an empty, dark classroom. 

“Let go of me!” she exclaimed, twisting around to try and see the person who had grabbed her.

“Boo,” whispered a familiar voice in her ear. 

“Draco, you do realize you could just talk to me in the halls like a normal goddamn person,” she chided, finally being released from his grip so she could give him a stern look. He only shrugged, a slightly impish look displayed across his features.

“But it’s more fun this way.”

She tried her hardest to frown at him, but it was honestly difficult when he was smiling at her the way he was. “So, what’s up? Did something happen?”

“Nothing really,” he admitted. “I just know that we both have free periods. Do you want to spend it together?”

Friends, friends, friends, friends, friends Y/N chanted in her head. He’s only saying this as a platonic thing.

“I guess I don’t really have anything better to do,” she teased. Despite her light hearted tone, she couldn’t help but notice the shift in Draco’s behavior. In a matter of days, he was looking more like himself than he had all year--the color finding its way back into his cheeks, the corners of his eyes crinkling up when he smiled, the food on his plate in the Great Hall actually being eaten. 

If there was one thing that Y/N was quickly learning about Draco, it was that under all of his snobbery, he was endearingly weird. He’d memorized all of the captains of the Slytherin Quidditch team, read everything there was in the library about alchemy, and always sent her the dorkiest fucking waves whenever their eyes met. 

So, in spirit of Draco’s newly recovered persona, Y/N spent the rest of her free period sitting in the empty classroom and chatting with him about a whole load of nothing. They’d both sat on top of adjacent desks, and sometimes Y/N would swing her feet so she kicked his shin. He’d always promptly return the favor.

“So,” she said after a while, “Have you been thinking about what I told you? My family’s plan, and all?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, his gaze cast down to his hands. “A little. I guess I’m just a little confused about what I should do with my task or when all of this is going to happen.”

“I’m only asking because I’ve been thinking about it,” confessed Y/N. “I think I’ve figured out what you should do with your task. If you want to, that is.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ve already established that You-Know-Who has nothing to hold over your head without your mother at stake,” began Y/N, searching his face to find agreement, “But it’s going to look suspicious if you suddenly stop sending progress reports.”

Draco reached his hand up to scratch his cheek. “One problem, though. I don’t think I’ll be able to repair the cabinet. I’ve hit a complete dead end anyways.”

“That’s fine,” said Y/N. “That doesn’t matter. Fake the progress reports. I don’t think that you should fix it at all, to be honest. I think you should leave it broken and still invite Bellatrix and her friends to travel through it.”

“And kill them?!”

“Or maim them,” offered Y/N. “I know it’s not ideal, but I think that if I tweaked the cabinet’s lunar belt just right, I might be able to control how the space-time continuum is warped and simply incapacitate them so the Order can take them into custody. Of course, the dark magic as an element may throw a curveball, but it’s worth a shot. And if you do this, it’ll mean that the Order will trust you more.”

“Hm.” Draco caught his bottom lip on his teeth while he shut his eyes, obviously stewing over everything. “That’s quite the risk.”

“I can run it by my family to get their thoughts on it,” she offered. “But the only caveat is that I have to mention what you’re trying to do.”

His eyes shot open. “Maybe don’t mention the part where I’ve already made more than one attempt on the headmaster’s life if we end up going down that route.”

Y/N shrugged. “The Order might already know. Isn’t Snape onto you?”

“He’s not ‘onto me’, he was instructed to help--” Draco stopped in his tracks as he stared at her. “Wait, what?”

“Oh,” she said, both of them frozen as they realized what they’d revealed to each other. “Erm...forget I mentioned that.”

“Yeah, probably a good idea,” he mumbled, sending a half-hearted kick at her. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Love it,” she said absentmindedly. “Anyways, will you go to Slug’s Valentine party with me next weekend? As friends, of course. He wants all of us to bring dates and I don’t know who else to ask.”

Draco looked like he was glowing. “Really? You wouldn’t bring Potter?”

“Eh,” she responded. “I’m pretty sure he’s going with Ginny. Plus, I see him around the common room enough as it is.” Y/N waited a few moments. “So? Are you in?”

He shook himself out of what looked to be a weirdly stupified state. “Er, of course. Just let me know when you need me.”

The Hogwarts bells began to chime outside, signifying that the third period block was beginning. 

“Saturday at 8,” said Y/N, turning to leave. “You can meet me in front of the Great Hall.”

“I’ll just walk you from your dorm.”

“Then you have to be there earlier.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t mind. Anyways, I’m off to Runes. Enjoy Divination.” He bumped her shoulder as he walked past, sending a thrill through Y/N. How had he even known that she had Divination? That was one of the few classes they didn’t share, and she probably just mentioned it in passing once. 

Then again, they were friends. And just because Ron and Hermione hadn’t memorized her schedule, it didn’t mean that Draco was the same kind of friend.

Things only got more confusing as time went on. Draco found any excuse to talk to her, especially when she was with Harry. If he were any other boy, Y/N would’ve immediately assumed the obvious: that he had a crush on her and was jealous. But, obviously, that was impossible. He’d told her upfront that he didn’t have any feelings for her. So why was his behavior so different after that night they spent together on the roof? 

It got even weirder on Friday. Draco once again pulled her away from a conversation with Harry to shove a little box in her hands.

“What’s this, Draco?” she asked, frowning as she turned it around in her hand.

“It’s just something I thought you might like,” he muttered, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Her interest piqued, Y/N opened the box.

“A quidditch bracelet?” Y/N gulped as she looked down at the enchanted diamonds, each glittering with a gentle silver pigment--as well as a slight lavender purple sheen. This was not a normal gift to give to your school friend. This was at least a few thousand galleons--probably even more, considering the enchantments that made the stones glow. Even her considerably wealthy family wouldn’t buy her one because of her horrid track record with jewelry.

He shrugged. “I picked it up while I was at Barnaby’s a bit ago. You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want. I remembered I had it when you asked me to Slug’s party and I thought I’d see if you’d be interested.”

“Erm,” said Y/N, stammering, “I’ve never gotten a gift like this from someone before.”

“Believable.” Draco snorted. “Take it and do me a favor. It’s not like I’d wear it. It might as well be appreciated by someone.”

“It’s beautiful, it really is. I’m just worried because I have a bit of a habit of forgetting I’m wearing jewelry and breaking it….”

“I assumed. That’s why I charmed it to be unbreakable,” said Draco quickly. “If you don’t want to wear it, I won’t be offended. I’m just offering.”

Y/N couldn’t help but be thankful that the abandoned classroom he’d pulled her into was dark. Otherwise, he might’ve seen how red her cheeks were. “I guess we’ll figure out how strong your unbreaking enchantments are shortly.”

“Is this your way of saying yes?”

“Help me put it on, will you?” 

She could see dimples form in his cheeks as he allowed a small, close lipped smile to spread across his face while he unclasped the bracelet from the box and gently turned her arm so her palm faced up to the sky. His touch lingered over her skin for a few seconds. Y/N had to remind herself to breathe.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice suddenly low, “About what we talked about last time we were here. About the cabinet, and the Order…”

“Yeah?”

“I think I want to do it,” he said firmly, finally pulling his hands away from her arm and tossing the empty wrapping into his pocket. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

“Nothing yet, really. Just your consent to tell my family about your task. I’ll let you know if they want anything else.” Though Y/N’s response was truthful and concise, her mind was elsewhere as she came to a depressing realization. He wasn’t giving her the quidditch bracelet because he secretly liked her and wanted to spoil her or whatever. He was doing it as a thank you for what she was doing for him and his mother. An elaborate gift for an even more elaborate favor. 

“That’s easy enough,” Draco mused. “In the meantime, I’ll keep sending progress reports.”

“Good plan,” said Y/N, her voice a little deflated. “Thank you again for the bracelet. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She left the classroom and spent the rest of her night stewing over the poor decisions she’d made regarding her emotions over the past week. She knew about the effect that Draco had over her, yet she still invited him to Slug’s party like an idiot. And then she’d let herself get her hopes up over dumb little things like the way he looked at her in class or the quidditch bracelet when he was really just being a friend trying to pay her back for a big favor. 

Saturday night was going to be rough if she couldn’t get her feelings in line.

~

At 7:50 sharp, Y/N waited by the portrait of the Fat Lady. Peeves wailed above her as she tried to practice slow breathing--in for 5 seconds, out for 5 seconds. I am in control of my feelings. I control my own reality.

Then she saw him, and all of the work she’d done trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him amounted to nothing. He looked breathtaking. Y/N bit her tongue as she tried to violently beat back the thoughts of all the things she wanted him to do to her. 

“You look nice,” he said smoothly once he was close enough for it to be socially acceptable. Her mouth went completely dry as she drank in the sight of him in an all-black suit.

“Thanks. So do you.” She internally congratulated herself for getting through that without stumbling over her words too much. Gingerly, she pushed herself off her position of leaning on the wall and began to walk alongside him.

As they ascended the steps, her heel teetered. She reached for Draco’s hand in a moment of sheer panic--and, surprisingly, he latched onto her and held her up. 

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you to not wear shoes you couldn’t walk in?” he said, amused. He didn’t move to let go of her hand. 

“Don’t be rude, Malfoy,” she fired back.  

“You’re not wearing it,” he noted. His lips slightly turned into a frown as he cast his eyes downwards.

Y/N stared at him, her mind barely functioning at this point. “What?” 

“The bracelet,” he said, letting go of her hand to motion to her wrist.

“Oh,” she responded lamely. In truth, she’d tossed it into his quill box while she was in the throes of self-pity over the whole ordeal of unrequited feelings, but she could hardly tell him that. “I took it off to shower and it took too long to put back on.”

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to help again,” he said with a teasing lilt. “I’d only judge you a little.”

She smiled, grateful he wasn’t pushing it any further. “Ever the gentleman. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

They made it to the fifth floor in no time. Slughorn only seemed slightly concerned with the presence of Draco, but he didn’t say anything to Y/N. As she expected, Hermione and Ron gave her a little bit of side-eye once they saw her choice of a date, but neither of them brought it up and even spoke to her for a little--though they never verbally acknowledged Malfoy. While she was constantly overanalyzing the little things that Draco was doing--the way he offered her a sip of his drink when she spaced out on the way his hands looked holding it for too long, the way he was always touching her in some way, whether it be a hand on her lower back or a lingering grip on her waist--she couldn’t help but feel overcome with the relief that her friends seemed somewhat accepting of her new friendship with Draco. 

Then Harry opened his mouth. 

“Malfoy,” he greeted through gritted teeth. 

“Potter.”

Ginny met her slightly panicked gaze with one of her own. To her surprise, though, Harry just flicked his gaze to where Draco’s hand was lightly poised on her waist, raising an eyebrow. “Congratulations for finally being honest with her. I always thought Y/N deserved a bloke who outright admitted his feelings. I never thought I’d say this, but maybe that is you after all.”

Draco’s hand immediately dropped. “Do me a favor and bugger off.”

“Or maybe I’m wrong,” replied Harry, looking Draco up and down with possibly the pettiest look she’d ever seen on a wizard before. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“That was weird,” said Y/N, though she secretly revelled in the fact that Harry was picking up on something too.

“I suppose.” Draco slid off one of his rings, running his fingertips over the ridges of his family crest.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Y/N, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

He nodded. “I’m fine. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve just never really been a party person.”

“I imagine it’s probably not helping that Harry’s here,” she said, giving his arm a little squeeze before releasing him. “Do you want to just get out of here? I think we’ve been here for long enough to justify ditching.” His grateful smile told her everything. “I had a feeling. Where do you want to go?”

He pondered this for a bit. “I’m not sure. Anywhere but here.”

“Anywhere but here” quickly turned into his dorm as they wordlessly made their way down to the dungeons, passing by Marvin the raven outside Snape’s stores. Y/N’s pulse sped up every time their hands brushed--which seemed to happen far, far too often for it to be accidental on either of their ends. 

“I can’t believe you broke in there,” he said finally, chuckling as the raven cooed at her appreciatively. “And just for me? I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” grumbled Y/N. Obviously she’d done it just for him--she was hopelessly obsessed with him. He knew that. She found herself profoundly grateful that she’d been under the influence of Veritaserum that time instead of now--if she’d had so much as a drop of truth serum, she’d spend the entire night telling him how much she wanted him. “Anyways, I’m sorry for how weird Harry was back there. I don’t get why he feels the need to make assumptions about everything.”

Draco hummed, tapping his fingers on her wrist. Just friends, just friends, you’re just friends. Merlin fucking damnit, why did he have such nice hands? “I don’t know. He was certainly sure about it.”

“And I have no clue why,” Y/N said, pretending like she was in disbelief instead of acute pain. “I know you don’t see me like that. I’m not really sure where he’s getting that from.”

“Oh?” Draco let his hand fall, a weird tone coming over his voice. “You aren’t?”

“Well, I remember what you said,” she said matter-of-factly, trying her hardest not to read into the way he was staring at her, watching every fidget of her hands. “It’s not like I’d be self-loathing enough to expect anything different.”

He let out a huff of frustration. “Y/L/N, honestly. I sent you a box of special Wurgie’s lavender chocolates on Valentine’s day. I spend all of my free periods talking to you.”

“Ok?” Y/N couldn’t help but be taken aback by how argumentative his tone was becoming. “I suppose I see how Harry could read into that. But I have to spend my free periods with someone, right? And sometimes I get my friends chocolate on Valentine’s day too.”

“I bought you a whole enchanted quidditch bracelet. It’s the only one of its kind,” he snipped, obviously becoming more agitated. “I spent an entire day trying to find the right unbreaking spell. My father literally wrote to me from Azkaban to ask me why the Gringotts bank statement recorded me taking out that many galleons at once. He thought someone had broken into our account.”

“He doesn’t know that.” Y/N was becoming keenly aware of how close he was standing to her now that they’d stopped walking, her back a few inches from the wall as he leaned into her space. “Even if I had worn it out, there’s no way he could’ve known it was from you.”

“That’s not what I’m--” he began waspishly before clearing his throat and collecting himself. “I’m just saying, those things aren’t exactly platonic.”

“Okay,” said Y/N slowly, trying to turn her thoughts away from how soft his lips looked, “I’ll concede that some things that we do can be read as something more than friendship. But I know how you feel. You told me.”

He wet his lips. “Do you actually think I care about whatever goes in that dim brain of his?”

“Normally, no. But considering the fact that we just had an argument over it, then maybe I’m incorrect in assuming.”

“Well, I don’t,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. He was close enough that she could smell the traces of that expensive cologne he always wore that reminded her of loose leaf lapsang souchong and fresh parchment. “And I was never trying to argue with you about his perception. I was talking about my actual intentions.”

“What?” Y/N choked out as she tentatively glanced up to see his jaw set. Her heart was pounding so hard it must’ve been audible. What the hell was he talking about?

Instead of answering, Draco gently reached up to her shoulders, walking her back until she was pinned up against the wall. His other hand came to tilt her chin so their eyes met. She would’ve been deceived into thinking he was confident by his unwavering stare, but she’d felt how his hands were slightly unstable. “Merlin, are you going to make me spell it out for you? How many different ways am I going to need to tell you?”

In the end, she wasn’t quite sure who it was who closed the gap--just that, at some point, one of them did, and that she was all of a sudden kissing Draco Malfoy with a fervor that she didn’t know she had in her. His mouth was hot against hers as he pressed her up further into the wall, his knee rising between her thighs to prop her up.

In the recesses of the back of her mind, it vaguely registered that this didn’t add up with what he told her the last night they spent together--but she decided to brush all those concerns off to the nebulous concept of later when his hands tangled into her hair.

The sound of footsteps and students giggling echoed down the corridor, making the pair jump apart. Y/N wiped her lips, trying to fix the smear of her lipstick as Draco frantically straightened out his tie that she’d tugged loose. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. 

“Do you still want to go back to my dorm?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

She dared to look up at him, not expecting the sight of his pupils blown out and his cheeks slightly rosy. “If that’s okay, yeah.”

Neither of them attempted to make conversation as he led her through the empty Slytherin common room. She could feel her heart crawling into her throat. She’d never gone to a boy’s dorm before other than during the Veritaserum incident--sure, she’d kissed some boys before, she’d even gone to the Yule Ball with a cute Beauxbatons boy--but she didn’t know how this worked. Was she supposed to immediately start kissing him the moment his bedroom door was closed? Was she supposed to be kissing him now? Was she supposed to be kissing him at all after that?

They made it into his bedroom before Y/N could come to a decision on her next action, so she decided to just not make any moves. Fuck, that was almost worse. Where would she sit? At his desk? No, who the fuck does that? Next to him on his bed? No, too suggestive. Just stand by the door? Merlin, no. She wished that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole so she could sit back in her dorm and think about the way he’d kissed her in private. 

“So,” said Draco. 

“So,” echoed Y/N, finally giving in and sinking down onto the bed next to him. 

“So, I take it that you still like me?” A small smirk danced on his lips. 

Her cheeks blushed into a furious red. “Draco, please don’t make this any more embarrassing than it has to be.”

“What are you...huh?” He shifted so he was on his side, propping up his chin with his palm as he studied her with agonizing attention. “Why would it be embarrassing when I was the one who kissed you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that this isn’t the first time? And the fact that I’m waiting for you to tell me you didn’t mean it again?”

“You think I didn’t mean that?” Draco’s eyebrows raised. “Do I need to do it again to get it through that thick skull of yours?”

“I--what--don’t be rude,” she stuttered. 

He rolled his eyes but didn’t lose the upturn of his lips. “I guess so. I suppose I was planning on it anyway.” 

All her nervousness melted away as Draco edged closer, the coolness of his rings pressing pleasantly into her neck. Instead of kissing her immediately like she expected, he traced the outline of her neck up to her ear where he wound his fingers into her hair, finally leaning in so their lips met. 

His skin was soft against hers as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss and pulling her into his lap, his fingers spanning the width of her waist and twisting in the satiny fabric of her dress. When she was out of breath and the pillow she was next to was beginning to get pushed dangerously close to the edge, she finally broke the kiss. 

“Can’t you just tell me how you feel with your words?” she prompted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Draco. 

“I thought it was obvious last time.”

“Well, it was. That was before I knew that I was relieved of my task,” he explained, his grip around her waist tightening to tug her ever closer. 

“Why would that matter?”

“Because,” he began, a slightly exasperated look in his eye, “If I had my task and my mother was still at stake, I would’ve had to go back home over the summer. And You-Know-Who would see you in my memories. Plus, I think that being a full-time Death Eater makes it very difficult to be a good boyfriend to someone who’s best friends with Harry Potter. That would complicate things. I knew that if I told you I felt the same way I wouldn’t be able to say no to you.”

“So…” She swallowed. “Does this mean that you’ve liked me all along? Like, from the start?”

“What do you think?” he drawled, his fingers ghosting over the zipper of her dress. “Do you think I just go around kissing random girls in my bed?”

“Well, what about Pansy?”

“Yeah, actually, what about her?” he asked, a little glimmer appearing in his eye. “We haven’t been together since, what, the middle of 5th year? I talk to her as much as I talk to any of my other Slytherin friends. I don’t know what’s got you so up in arms over her.”

“She obviously isn’t over you,” Y/N pointed out. “I just know it.”

“And? I’m over her.” He gave her a knowing look. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t know!” she exclaimed. “I thought that maybe there was something. It’s not like I’m keenly aware of the Slytherin social going-ons.” 

“Sheesh, so defensive,” he tutted, his thumbs now rubbing circles into her shoulders. “It’s almost like you like me or something.”

“Draco!” She swatted at him, but he caught her hand in midair and kissed each of her knuckles, giving her an almost sheepish look. It was all she could do to keep her laughs from getting too loud as he dropped her hand and swept towards her again, kissing her fully. 

Before she knew it, they were rolled over so he was on top of her, hovering over her with his elbows supporting his weight as he pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses along the bare curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and let a soft sigh escape her as his lips drags across the spot under her ear, pushing up further into him.

“You liked that, huh?” He looked far too pleased with himself.

“Shut up,” she said, reaching up to thread her fingers lightly through his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. Something possessed her to wind her fingers through the locks on the back of his neck and close them into a fist, awarding her with a sharp intake of air from Draco. “You liked that, huh?” she mocked.

He rolled his eyes, muttering a “fucking hell” so quietly that she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear it. Despite the exasperation in his tone, his mouth was still fixed in an upturn as he looked down at her, his eyes soft. She couldn’t help but move up to kiss him again, and again, and again, until her lungs were screaming for air and her neck was cramping from the angle.

She let her head fall back onto his down comforter, taking in the sight of Draco with swollen, well-kissed lips. 

“What?” He tilted his head as he regarded her.

“I just love you like this,” she said shyly. “Oh, Merlin, wait, I didn’t mean it like…”

Draco let out a chuckle. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. I love you like this, too. You’re not as difficult.” He rolled off of her, taking a moment to shed his dress coat and pull off his tie.

When he was close enough again, she rewarded his tolerance with a smile and a delicate, nervous kiss on his collarbone, dragging her teeth over his skin for just a moment. The hand that was placed on her back scrunched up the material of her dress as Draco’s breath caught. 

“Your hands are bloody cold,” he complained as her fingers wound themselves under his dress shirt, exploring the new expanse of exposed alabaster skin.  

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, pulling away and letting go for just a second before he grabbed her wrists together and hauled her back.

 “No.”

“I’ve never…”

“That’s okay,” he said as she settled back onto his lap, reveling in the soft way that he was treating the skin that was exposed by her dress. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I’m just scared,” she suddenly choked out. Where did that come from? “I want you, now, but I don’t want to wake up tomorrow to you telling me that you can’t do this or that you didn’t like it or…” She trailed off, distracted by the way he firmly tapped the outer edge of her thigh.

“I’m not going to do that to you,” he said. “I promise. I made that mistake once. Plus, the burden of the performance is kind of on me anyways, so there’s nothing to be nervous about if that’s a hold up.”

She snorted. “Don’t make me change my mind, Malfoy.” 

Despite her words, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I mean it. If you want to just lie there that’s fine. As long as you enjoy it, it’ll be great for me.” His hand came up to gingerly brush away the pieces of hair that had fallen in her face before dropping to gently toy with the top of her zipper again--a question. Wordlessly, she allowed herself to be helped out of the garment, letting it fall to the ground before turning back to attack the buttons on Draco’s chest. He made an amused sound as she struggled, eventually unsheathing his wand and opening it up in a second.

“I could’ve done that, you know,” she said rather defensively.

“Yes, yes, I know,” he said, hardly masking his teasing tone. “You’re very capable. Now come here.”

 And so she did.

The idea of sex had always been scary to Y/N. Someone, especially someone attractive enough for her to want to sleep with him, seeing her fully exposed made her want to freeze up and dive under her blankets. But that was before Draco. Somewhere, hidden deep in the back of her brain, lay an anxious switch that flicked off as soon as she was pinned under him with his knee pushing up to part her legs. She no longer felt like she had to be self-conscious--despite how intimidated she was by him, she’d never felt more adored. 

Y/N learned three surprising things about Draco in the span of that night: one, that in some places his skin felt like crushed velvet under her fingers; two, that he melted in her hands when she pressed her lips to the sensitive spot on his neck; and three, that he had a freckle under his jaw. And on his left shoulder. And at the spot where his thigh met his torso.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured to her after they’d slumped together, his duvet haphazardly flung over their bodies while his fingers traced patterns on her back.

“I’m just so glad you feel the same way,” she admitted. “I thought I was going crazy over your actions not lining up with your words. It was driving me insane.”

Draco let out a little laugh. “I thought it was painfully obvious.”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs that time you walked with me after detention?”

“Remember when you tripped up the stairs today?”

“You’re ruining this,” she said sourly as she swatted his chest.

Instead of responding, he just snatched her hand and held it hostage. “I’m not the one resorting to physical violence. Which, now that I think of it, is pretty commonplace for you.”

“Hey! If I hadn’t thrown the york pudding at Pansy, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Draco was silent for a few moments.

“You know I’m right,” she pressed. To her surprise, he shifted uncomfortably under her.

“I’m not so sure,” he finally admitted.

“Huh?” Her features flooded with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“I mean, I’m lucky it worked out like this,” he said hesitantly. “And...so soon. You hated me.”

She sat up, pulling away from his embrace and folding her knees under her. “What are you talking about?” 

“I dunno.” Draco refused to meet her eyes, his fingers instead playing with the edges of his sheets. “This is probably stupid, but do you remember the time we brewed Amortentia in Slughorn’s class?”

She nodded. 

“You told me that it reminded you of a memory,” he continued, “And that you knew you had to have danced with them at some point.”

“I’m aware.” Y/N blinked down at him as she tried to piece the puzzle together.

He finally flicked his gaze up to meet her eyes. “I guess you don’t remember it, but in fourth year we danced together once. I’d never talked to you before--I knew you were friends with Potter and the like--but I just never really stopped thinking about it since.”

“This is so embarrassing,” said Y/N. “How do I not remember?”

He shrugged. “I think you were a little tipsy at the time. I did, though. I’ve never forgotten.”

“Then why were you so mean to my friends?”

“I stopped for the most part,” he pointed out. “And, if you’ll notice, it was mostly towards Harry.”

“I thought that was because he’s the Chosen One.”

“No, it’s because I could see that he liked you and I was jealous. Eventually I just gave up around 5th year, around when I started dating Pansy. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that I was ever going to be able to be with you, especially not after getting my task.” 

“Oh,” Y/N said as she mulled over this information. “My story isn't as romantic. I suppose I’ve always had a little crush on you too, but I was definitely in denial. I just always found you ridiculously attractive and tragically funny considering what you used to support.”

He glowed down at her, pressing the pad of his thumb into her cheek. “Well, I’m glad I can finally give you what you deserve.”

“Me too.”

~

The weeks began to pass faster after that. Draco never really struck Y/N as a PDA type of guy, but he was surprisingly affectionate. When they began to brew potions together again, he was quick to tuck away her hair behind her ear when she was looking over the cauldron and sent her sweet, private smiles that made her heart flutter. He even sat with her every once in a while at the Gryffindor table when the trio was busy doing whatever they had to do to save the world. Y/N pretended to not notice the whispers that were elicited from her peers when Draco would casually touch her.

They spent as many nights together as they could, but considering how often her friends were giving her dirty looks for stumbling into Potions after not being seen in the Gryffindor Tower for the past day, they had to be reasonable, cutting it down to three or four nights a week. 

Y/N treasured every moment she had with Draco, even when they were fleeting and in between classes. She learned everything she could about him--how he was actually terrified of snakes, how he preferred his tea black, how he had an elaborate morning routine he hardly ever deviated from--and committed it all to mind. Her favorite version of him in her head was the way he looked when he was between her sheets, fast asleep with his arms draped over her. Whenever she woke up before him, she tried to memorize it.

He was absolutely ridiculous with the kind of gifts he gave her. Y/N swore that one day she’d wake up to find that he’d bought the British crown jewels because he “saw them” and “just thought of her”. She now had enough Barnaby’s quills to rival the number of feathers on the country’s entire population of geese, but instead of feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, all Y/N could feel was the impending doom that, one day, those gifts would be the only thing she had left of him. He seemed to know this, too.

Draco always found some kind of reason to pull her away and kiss her senseless, whether it be behind a tapestry or in a broom closet when Filch heard them walking around the castle after curfew. In a way, it was like they were just normal teenagers, enjoying the thrill of the moment and acting out. When she thought of it like that, it made the inevitable events seem more bearable; at least they had some time together.

The letter came with no more context than just a simple “Tomorrow.” Y/N knew exactly what it meant--Narcissa Malfoy was going to finally be taken from the manor. Bellatrix needed to be convinced over the next 24 hours to enter the Borgin & Burke’s Vanishing Cabinet as a distraction, and Y/N needed to be sure of her work on the cabinet.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Y/N mused absentmindedly as she sat in front of the cabinet. Draco’s head rested on her shoulder after recounting all of the changes he’d made. “That was clever, switching out the conductor clasp with a copper fitting.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. “I’m not totally daft, you know.”

“Of course I know,” she said, her voice dropping into a soft murmur. Fingers pressed into the soft flesh of her thigh as he pulled her onto him. “Draco, I have to fix this first. Then we can do whatever you’d like.”

“Hm,” was all he said, burying his face in her neck once again and letting out a deep sigh.

“Are you worried?”

He was still for a few moments before dipping his head slightly in a nod.

“You’ll be okay,” she promised, winding his fingers through hers. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“I should be comforting you, not the other way around,” he said softly. “I dragged you into this.”

“I pushed myself into this,” she corrected. “And, plus, it’s not my mother on the line. It’s okay to care, you know.”

Y/N got up, making her way towards the cabinet and meeting his eyes once. They shared a knowing glance as she brandished her wand and whispered a quick fracturing spell, sending cracks down the eastern side of the lunar belt. Her hand shook as she shrank back onto the couch until his arms found her shoulders and turned her towards him. “I can’t believe I just...I just did that.”

Instead of responding, he simply sat up straight and delicately pressed his lips to her forehead, his hand coming around to cradle her for just a moment. “Let’s get out of here.” 

“Out of here” once again turned into Draco’s dorm room.

“I can’t believe this will all be over tomorrow,” Draco said, his back turned as he loosened his Slytherin tie. “I’m going to be gone by Sunday morning.”

“Yeah.” Y/N tried not to let the lump in her throat garner too much attention at the thought of losing Draco into what was essentially the Order’s witness protection program. 

He seemed to notice her uncharacteristic silence, frowning at his reflection before making his way towards her and diligently pressing kisses on her cheeks. Instead of grabbing onto his sleeve cuffs and pulling him closer like she usually did, she just let out a tiny sigh and kept her eyes fixed on the tie slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey,” he murmured, moving so she had to look at him. 

“Hey.” She sent him a watery smile, hoping that he couldn’t see how close she was to tears. 

“What’s wrong?”

Y/N just shook her head, anchoring her bottom lip with her teeth so she didn’t choke up. “It’s nothing.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t pull that with me. I’m not falling for that. I’m going to ask again. What’s wrong?” His hand came up to pull her chin up again so their eyes were level, his eyebrows raised in expectation.

Y/N tried to tell him; she really did. It wasn’t her fault that the most pathetic sounding sob of her life came out of her mouth instead of a confession. Instead of asking any more questions or trying to get her to talk, Draco just pulled her into his arms and held her there, letting her weep into him. His hands came up to rub her back as she struggled to breathe normally.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered, breaking the silence. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“This isn’t about me,” said Y/N miserably. “It’s about you. What if something happens to you while we’re apart? What if I don’t get to see you again?”

Draco made a small sound in his throat, almost like he was holding back a sob himself. “Y/N, don’t worry about me, okay? It’ll all be alright, love. Don’t worry.”

Despite the fact that Draco was doing his best to comfort her, Y/N knew one thing for sure: his word couldn’t stand against fate, and if he were meant to die or disappear during the time that he was hidden away in Italy, there was nothing either of them could do about it.

She turned her head and found herself pressing her lips to his with so much desperation that she hardly even noticed the few stray tears that had made their way down her cheeks. He met her with much more tenderness, his fingers gently brushing away the wetness on her cheeks. For someone as cocky as Draco, he could be so shy when he kissed her, almost like he expected her to change her mind halfway through. 

“I don’t want this to be over,” she whispered as she pulled away, leaving the slightest gap between their lips. 

He cupped her face, his eyes shining. “It’s not over. We have a few hours left.”

To her horror, another strangled gasp left her lips. Draco had her tucked into his arms in an instant, his lips pressing into her hairline. “It’s not over, okay? I just don’t want to hold you back if you aren’t allowed to see me. Don’t wait around for me.”

“I don’t care,” choked out Y/N. “I’d wait forever if it meant I got to have you.”

“I know,” he murmured. “But it’s not fair of me to expect that from you. I don’t know how long this war is going to last.”

“I don’t care about fairness,” whispered Y/N. “I just want you.”

They spent the rest of the night tangled together in his sheets, just waiting for the morning to come. Neither one got any sleep. Instead, Y/N entertained herself by playing with his hands and asking him questions about his childhood--anything to keep her from remembering what was in store for both of them.

It had been decided earlier that Y/N would have no part in the cabinet plan after they ran the information by the Order. Actually, it was decided that she’d have no part in anything beyond just bringing the situation of Narcissa Malfoy to attention. “It’s crucial to your safety that you don’t connect yourself and by extension our family to this,” one of her father’s earlier letters had read. “Doing so puts you and everyone you love in jeopardy.”

That evening, just as dusk set in, she stood with Draco in her dorm for what was the last time, shaking with unshed tears. He just clung to her for the first few minutes, her head tucked under his chin as his hands were clasped around her back. 

“Give me your hand,” he said finally. “I want you to have something.”

She felt something slide on her thumb, her eyes widening as she realized what it was--his family ring.

“Draco…”

“I probably shouldn’t have this on me, anyways,” he explained. “And I want you to have something of mine, something that’s really mine, not just a gift. Just...maybe don’t wear it in public, and if you do wear it as a necklace charm or something. The last thing I want is you to get connected to this--”

Y/N cut off his rambling by pressing her lips to his, his hand feeling oddly bare as it came up to touch her cheek. “If anything happens to you, I love you. I hope you know that.”

He smiled, then kissed her again--so long that it seemed like he was savoring every moment of 

it before finally stepping away. “You know I love you. Always will.”

She managed to fit in one last kiss before he left.

Monday turned into Tuesday which turned into Wednesday which turned into the next week. Before she knew it, her 6th year was almost over. Neither Draco nor Narcissa had contacted her. The Order had been cagey about the details leading to the Malfoys--while she obviously had a general idea as to the location of her Italian vacation home and thus by extent the Malfoys, she hadn’t heard anything about their travels there. All she’d heard was the basic news that everyone had--that Bellatrix Lestrange had been found dead and that the Ministry had taken both Fenrir Greyback and Antonin Dolohov into custody with near fatal injuries.

But that didn’t make her miss him any less. Y/N found herself longing for the nostalgic, innocent time when she shamelessly flirted with him in detention and only worried about whether or not the Trio would like her again. It all seemed so long ago. 

Falling asleep was the worst. She couldn’t smell the lavender of her diffuser or her room spray without relating it to him, couldn’t slide under her sheets without remembering how it felt to fall asleep in his arms. Around May, Y/N came to the most disturbing realization: she wasn’t entirely sure if she remembered what his voice sounded like anymore. Not in the way that meant she wouldn’t recognize it if he called out to her--she would, of course she would--but she couldn’t replicate it in her mind or replay their interactions with convincing accuracy.

Sometimes, on the nights when she couldn’t sleep at all, she envisioned her last interaction with Draco: his snow blond hair ruffled and his face grim as he turned to leave. Even though she couldn’t hear his voice quite right as he told her he loved her, she remembered the scent of his cologne against her jumper and the feeling of his skin against hers as he slipped his family ring onto her hand. It was killing her that she didn’t know exactly what happened to him. He could’ve been taken by a surviving Death Eater and held hostage at the manor. He could be dead. The papers had printed that he’d been pulled into the Vanishing Cabinet and, true to the name, completely vanished, caught in the space passageway between it and the sister cabinet. She’d known that that was the angle the Order was going to take from the start, but it did nothing to ease her anxiety. 

It was even more concerning when she remembered that they’d never agreed upon anything in the future--just simply that they cared about each other in March. At that moment it had been enough. But it wasn’t anymore. All she wanted was for him to appear, give her that stupid wave he sometimes sent to her from across the dining hall when she saw him enter in the morning, and sweep her up into his arms. But that was hard to do when he was countries away. 

N.E.W.Ts had been cancelled, much to the dismay of Hermione, so Y/N had even less things to distract her with. Harry was off with Dumbledore doing Merlin knows what to try and defeat Voldemort. She was left with nothing to do but wallow in her own pity.

In early June, days before Hogwarts classes were officially concluded, someone knocked on her door.

“Come in,” mumbled Y/N. While she had thankfully gotten past the habit of crying every day, she’d instead slipped into a sort of anxious paralysis, lying on her bed after all of her tasks were done.

“It’s me.” Ron’s voice made her sit up in surprise. He hadn’t really spoken to her privately since he’d brokered the peace between her and the rest of the trio. “Do you have time to chat?”

“Sure,” she responded, moving over so he had room to sit beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Lavender just broke up with me,” muttered Ron, his hand coming up to brush at something on his cheek. “And I’ve never felt this way before. Is this what it feels like for you? With Malfoy?”

Y/N met his eyes and saw the same kind of hopelessness in them, the edges pricking with tears. “Yeah. I think so.” It was hard to choke back her own sob, so she just hugged him. He smelled of caramel and spring grass.

“Not to be a prat,” he said, “But you shouldn’t waste any tears over Malfoy. I don’t care if he switched sides in the end, he’s still a snot-nosed tosser to me. When this is all over, we’re going out together so we can find you someone better.”

“You know he switched sides?” She pulled back in surprise. Ron sent her a little wink.

“Of course not. I’m not sure why I said that. I’m sure if it was true, it’d be confidential Order information.”

“Who else?”

“Just Hermione and Harry,” he replied in a low voice. “But we weren’t supposed to figure it out--it was an accident over Easter break while we were eavesdropping on an Order meeting. That doesn’t change anything, though. You could definitely do better.”

“And so could you,” she said. “Remember what I said about you and Hermione?”

He laughed. “I’m working on it.”

Her conversation with Ron shed light on something else that had baffled her as of late--the tentative rekindling of her friendship with Hermione. The witch was actually inviting her to study nowadays, making small talk with her despite steering clear of all topics regarding Malfoy and Death Eaters. 

The last day of school rolled around before she was ready, the final ceremony being spoken by McGonagall instead of Dumbledore while he was still traveling with Harry. As she got up from her seat in the Great Hall, Hermione grabbed onto her sleeve.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

So, instead of walking straight up to the Gryffindor Tower on the route they’d used countless times since the beginning of their educational career, they took the scenic route along the Black Lake, away from the hordes of students. They walked the shore quietly until Hermione spoke up.

“Draco needs a tutor to cover what he missed this year.” 

Y/N snapped to attention. “What?”

“Narcissa Malfoy has been requesting it and all the professors are busy with Order work,” continued Hermione, not bothering to repeat herself. “They want me to do it. When they ask, I’m going to turn them down and volunteer you instead. Is that okay?”

“Um…” Y/N stuttered. “I’m going to be a pretty shit tutor. Why would you do that for me?”

“I’m going to try and help Harry this summer,” she explained. “And even if I wasn’t, consider it my formal apology. I know it wasn’t right how I treated you this year. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just hope you understand why I was hurt.”

“Of course I understand!” said Y/N, reaching out to touch her elbow. “Considering the way he treated you, I can’t blame you for feeling betrayed. I should be the one apologizing. It just...happened the way it did. I didn’t want to fall for him, but I did anyway.”

Hermione covered her hand with her own and gave it a little squeeze. “I know. Do you think we can put this all behind us? I’ve missed my best friend. Ron and Harry have been driving me crazy this term. Ron told me to tell you that you have permission to smack me if I ever say something condescending to you again.”

“Please, let’s. And I think I’d resort to throwing a nice york pudding instead…”

The familiar bittersweet feeling of looking forward to putting school behind her yet dreading leaving her friends consumed her as she filed onto the Hogwarts Express, looking back onto the castle for the last time. She didn’t know it then, but she wouldn’t be returning. At least not for a long time.

“Luna!” she exclaimed as she ran into someone trying to find her seat. The blonde Ravenclaw sent her a dreamy smile.

“You certainly look happier.” Luna tilted her head as she studied her features. 

“I never got to properly thank you for this,” said Y/N, “But you absolutely saved me this year. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you in January.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being your friend,” responded Luna. “If you really want to, owl me this summer. I think I’ll miss you quite a bit.”

“I’ll miss you more.” She let her new Ravenclaw friend pull her into a hug before she finally retired to her respective seat next to Hermione, who pressed a package into her hand.

“McGonagall just gave it to me,” she whispered into her ear. “Don’t show it to anyone. I think it’s a Portkey.”

True to Hermione’s prediction, it was a familiar object from her manor--an ornate vase that was normally on display in the main foyer. A piece of parchment was rolled up inside.

Activates at 9am on the 10th of June. Closes 5 minutes after the hour. Do not be late.

~

Instead of feeling excited to see Draco, all she could feel was her nerves as she stared at the vase in front of her at 8:55 in the morning. It’d been so long since she’d kissed him that she wasn’t even sure if she remembered how. She literally felt as if her virginity had grown back like her leg hairs did the morning after she cast hair removal spells. 

And not to mention, seeing Narcissa again--that was terrifying. She’d always been a very intimidating woman, dressed impeccably with sharp, aristocratic features much like her son. Y/N doubted she’d take kindly to her son’s tutor being more interested in him than the actual job at hand. 

That assumed he even wanted her still, anyways. Maybe three months in isolation made him come to his senses and realize he’d been absolutely off his rocker for liking her in the first place. Merlin, did he regret it? Was he going to tell her they couldn’t?

Swallowing her worries as the clock chimed at 9, she wrapped her hand around the vase and allowed herself to be pulled across international borders.

The first thing she noticed was the smell. Instead of the florally pine forest that surrounded her family’s main manor, she was greeted with the scent of sea salt and the sound of cawing birds. The sun had long since risen, the temperature a pleasant warmth to her skin after she’d spent a year in the cooler English air. 

Y/N stepped forward, towards the looming white structure that she assumed was her beach cottage. Her feet sunk in the sand as she made her way across the beach. Did he even know she was coming then? She would’ve thought he did, considering that anyone approaching the safe house unannounced would no doubt send everyone into some sort of a panic. 

Finally, she made it to the front door, tapping her wand on the enchanted knocker to signal that someone was at the front door. It creaked, and all of a sudden she was looking into the silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. He looked less pale than he did the last time she’d seen him, like he’d actually begun to spend time in the sun instead of locked away in the Slytherin dungeons. His hair looked somewhat sunbleached. She could see the faintest beginning of unfamiliar freckles across his nose. 

“Hi,” she said shyly, toying with her nails in front of her and not sure whether or not to embrace him. “I’m not sure if you knew, but your mother wanted someone to review the material you missed this year and Hermione didn’t want to, so--”

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he crossed through the door, swept her up, and kissed her with conviction. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he whispered when he pulled away. Her eyes pooled with tears as his voice re-registered in her head. 

“I missed you,” Y/N managed. She let her fingers run over his cheekbones and the rest of his face and hair like she couldn’t believe he was actually there in front of her again. “I thought something had happened to you.”

“Something kind of did,” he admitted. “My aunt died.”

“So I’ve heard. Sorry about that.”

“It was her own fault. She brought a dagger enchanted with dark magic and it messed with the energy.” His smile had morphed into something more tense, so she stood on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his lips, a bit tentative after not touching him since March. 

“You were all I could think about,” she admitted. “I’m not going to be much good at teaching you anything because I honestly stopped paying attention after you left…”

Draco’s smile widened, and she felt her legs turn to jelly. “I don’t mind. You were all I could think about, too. If you ever run out of things to teach me…” His fingers ghosted along her jawline as he spoke, “...I’ve had three months with nothing better to do than to think up ways to make up for the time we’ve spent apart.”

As she basked in the warmth of his embrace and the gentle sound of the Mediterranean ocean lapping at the earth, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in months. There was a war on the horizon, her friends were in danger, and her parents were once again risking themselves to aid the Order. But she’d gotten Draco out of his task. They had at least a summer left together. And at that moment, that was enough. 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, tugging her chin up to meet his eyes once again.

She shrugged. “Nothing. Just kiss me again.”

And so he did.

final a/n: thanks for hanging in there! i hope you guys liked it! first off, apologies if my fluff scenes are choppy or repetitive. i’m not very experienced with writing them yet. also, i decided to write draco this way last minute because i like to imagine him as someone who has never had to actually admit feelings for someone and put himself on the line--instead i think he’d try his hardest to get you to confess that you like him if he’s afraid of messing it up. also if you were confused the quidditch bracelet is supposed to be the magic equivalent of a tennis bracelet lol...when i was shopping w my mom i may have been inspired when i saw those bc literally who wears diamonds around their wrist that cost thousands of dollars every day? i asked the saleslady how much the smallest one was and she was like “only 4k and you can wear it anywhere!” like girl i work a minimum wage customer service job and that shit would break in a few seconds. no i would not wear that everywhere. tennis bracelet rant over but anyways ig i was saying that a tennis bracelet def has draco malfoy energy per se

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