#somehow completely managed to ignore the dumbfounded part I AM SO SORRY

[save-the-villainous-cat]

may I request a really really really smart villain. but somehow the hero manages to outsmart them, and even though villain is completely dumbfounded, they find it incredibly hot???

gl, if you wish, but im fine with anything !!

“You’re scared,” the villain whispered. “I know what that feels like. I know what it can do to a person.”

Their fingertips traced the hero’s clavicle gently, as if they attempted to calm a startled deer by stoking it.

“It’s not a pleasant emotion. It certainly isn’t one anyone should be used to. So I’m curious, do you need my help?” the villain said. Their eyes scanned the hero curiously. Almost as if they could absorb everything about them just by looking at them.

Something about the hero seemed to pull them in, something seemed to fascinate them on a grand scale and the hero couldn’t tell if they loved the challenge or the attention.

“Would you mind?” the hero asked. They nodded towards the villain’s fingers on their body and clearly, the villain received their message. They pulled away and smiled. Curiosity seemed to be their big weakness.

“I apologise, of course. I’m fond of pretty things.”

“As every crow is.”

“That’s a compliment.” The hero didn’t answer. They knew the villain was toying with them; they were fully aware of their sweet words and their kind smile.

The villain wasn’t easy to understand and that was a big problem in this whole mess. Incompetent people proposed a threat to the city because of their lack of intelligence. They weren’t easy to understand, they were unpredictable.

Usually, the hero could argue with smart people, could get into their minds and understand their motives but the villain was a complete minefield. Their unpredictability came from several unrelated plans that intertwined and altogether made up a whole picture.

They were ten steps ahead. Always.

Suddenly, a missing professor, a burning bakery, a sick child and a stolen book were parts of a chain that would make sense to the hero much, much later. Ordinary things could play huge parts in these reaction chains, something they liked to call “controlled butterfly effect”. It made the hero think of all the details, all the little crimes in the city. It made them overanalyse every little conversation they had with the villain.

Was the villain giving them clues?

Was there a way to decipher these riddles?

How could anyone be at ten different places at the same time?

How was it possible to get information you’d have to torture out of people without actually talking to anyone at all?

“I’ll have to change my address for the third time this month,” the hero said. “You should apologise for that as well.”

“It’s not my fault you make it so easy for me.” The villain looked around the hero’s living room and in some weird and strange way, the hero felt superior to them, now that everything was done. It would’ve been foolish to say they were relieved. In fact, the villain was right. They were terrified. “New choice of plants, I see. You like orchids?”

“Why exactly are you here?” the hero asked. They assumed the villain knew about yesterday. They also assumed the villain was here to talk about that. “So you can make fun of me? Humiliate me in my own home?”

“Without an audience? Please, I thought you knew me.” The villain’s eyes found the hero’s again after what they deemed to be enough observation.

“You like it more intimate. You like it when it’s just us.” Now, the villain looked intrigued.

“Touché,” they said, almost as if the hero had defeated them with a single word. The hero wished it had been that easy.

“Again. Why are you here?” The hero crossed their arms in front of their chest. It was getting quite chilly in just a shirt and underwear.

In response, the villain took in a deep breath and sat down on the hero’s couch. They lounged.

“When Hannibal crossed the Alps, do you think he was scared? I mean, all that responsibility on his shoulders? It was dangerous, he could’ve lost his entire army.”

“Is this supposed to be some metaphor for me being Hannibal and you being…what? The Roman Republic?” the hero asked. Sometimes, it was laughable where the villain’s mind went. It was hard enough to keep up with them already but the amount of knowledge the hero acquired from talking to them alone was insane.

It was the type of learning experience that required failing repeatedly to get to the answer. The hero didn’t enjoy it.

But the villain only chuckled.

“I was trying to say that being determined and scared can coexist. You did something that demands great courage.” They tilted their head. “And yet, it is a very scary thing.”

With slow steps, the hero approached them until they were close enough. They sat down on the villain’s lap. Unsurprisingly, their nemesis didn’t protest.

They weren’t proud of what had happened, they weren’t proud of what they’d done.

“How can a person obtain information no one dares to whisper?” the hero asked. “How can that person receive it within seconds?”

“You tell me,” the villain said. An invitation. It would’ve been illogical to decline.

“You had two helpers. Someone who can teleport. Someone who can turn invisible. I don’t know how you convinced them but they were heroes once.”

The villain nodded.

“The Romans had to learn the hard way how important spies are. They learnt it from the Carthaginian. Like I learnt from you years ago,” the villain said. It was difficult to imagine that all this was the hero’s fault. “Now, tell me what you did when you found out.”

The hero was quiet until the villain’s palm brushed their thigh softly. The villain seemed unfittingly euphoric.

“I knew they wouldn’t be easy to keep in a cell.”

“So?”

“So I killed them.” The villain nodded.

“You killed them,” the villain agreed. “Did you know crows wait for other predators to tear open their prey?”

The hero waited. The villain wasn’t angry. They were fascinated. It hadn’t even occurred to the hero that this was the solution up until yesterday.

And still, even though this was a major success when it came to stopping the villain, it wasn’t satisfactory. Killing two of their own people hadn’t been pretty.

“Did you know curiosity killed the cat?” the hero asked back. Behind their back, they clenched their fist to stop their hand from shaking.

Within seconds, several red laser dots pointed at the villain. With the hero on their lap, pressing them into the couch, there wasn’t anywhere to go. The sharpshooters wouldn’t let the villain move a muscle.

And behind the shocked expression, the hero saw something they weren’t sure if they loathed or liked: a certain admiration for only them.

#villain it’s a trap u stupid ahh #I am behind you I always find you I am the tiger #somehow completely managed to ignore the dumbfounded part I AM SO SORRY #I’m not even close to being able to write smart characters but I hope this is ok 👹 #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

[dxrkdreamer]

Not So Bad

Modern Sukuna x Reader

Working late had been the bane of your existence, only getting worse when a certain man started showing up to your store’s parking lot to light his joints.

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: 18+ implied sex, mentions of weed.

(A/N: should I make a part 2? It seems pretty popular

Couldn’t come up with a name for the store so I used Anavrin from ‘YOU’)

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

“11:00 pm? Again?” you rubbed the back of your head trying to hide your frustration, the store manager nodded his head, sighing you agreed to stay late at work again since the closer frankly did not want to stay. So now here you are grumbling as you finish sweeping the floor and checking it off your log. You worked at a high end grocery store named Anavrin, a store that swore to sell organic produce and products to the best of quality. You took up a job here in your senior year of high school, planning on working for a few months to save up for college. And yet… 4 years later you’re still here grumbling at the extra hours you had taken. After your second year of working you had a promotion to supervisor… woo hoo!!... but it turned out it was more responsibility than expected. But it paid a little more and you could not argue with that.

‘I should be a little more optimistic, I’m graduating uni this year’ you’d tell yourself anytime you wanted to pull your hair out because of your measly job. You finished turning off the lights and locking the door, sighing as you felt the cold fall air hit your tired face, taking a deep breath of fresh air… wait a second “Who the fuck is smoking weed!” you yelled in a girly voice, as if this day was not long enough. Since you were in charge of a proper closing you marched off towards a tall man leaning against the back of the store, laughing and conversing on his phone. It was a little nostalgic, you remembered your highschool days, sneaking around and smoking pot in strange places. But he was not as young as a teenager, in fact his build made him look older than you.

“Hey! I’m going to ask you to leave, this is a smoke free property” You tried saying sternly gesturing to the sign right above them that read “no smoking” in bold letters. But your short stature compared to the man made you look like a kid waving your arms around attempting a snake dance.

“What on earth is this?” a man with pink hair and face tattoos said “I’m so scared, I should be so ashamed for not reading the sign” he cackled as he pressed the joint to his lips and inhaled again. “My apologies”

He did not look sorry at all.

“Look, I’ve had a long day. I’d like to go home so please go to a proper location or I’ll-” but you’re cut off with the joint stuffed to your pretty lips.

“You’ll what cutie?” he smirked as you stared at him dumbfounded, the joint stuck to your lip as you tried to figure out a reaction. But the man was already on his way towards his motorbike. Of course he had a motorbike. “First one’s always free darling, next time I’ll charge ya” he winked as he put his helmet on and sped off.

“Mother fucker” you swore and banged your head against the brick wall. ‘Never am I staying late again’ you groaned. You walked to your car, but not without tucking the joint safely in your pocket for when you got back home.

---

And that was your first of many nightly encounters with the pink haired man. You were not surprised to see him anymore in the parking lot, either smoking, laughing with friends or just sitting on his bike staring at his phone. You learned his name was Sukuna… you had asked for it during the nth time you threatened to call the cops. You also learned he sold weed to the store manager, so he pretty much had a free pass on smoking here.

“Working late again (name)? My, they must pay you a lot for you to stay here.” he smirked, watching you with grinning eyes. Your annoyance shot up at the mention of your little over minimum wage pay. They definitely were not paying you enough for the store, but giving you a delinquent like this guy… you had written your resignation letter a few times after his nightly visits. You ignored him as you walked to your car, heavy footsteps followed “I brought ya a little something” He grinned handing you a baggy with a cookie “It’s on the house, made ‘em myself”. Eyes narrowed as you tilted your head up to glare at him, but realized you were a lot closer than you expected. You could hear him breathe, feel the heat off his body and smell the spicy cologne he was wearing as you breathed a little too loudly trying to inhale the scent. “Not today darling, that package is for another date” he winked.

Oh my God.

What have you done? Sure he was hot and you didn’t mind the view, but his mouth made up for that. He was like an evil version of a talking cat. Opening his mouth to smite you, prideful like one and given the opportunity would sit on your face if you were lying down. Wait what?

“I’m not interested in you like that!” you squeeked.

He tilts his head to the side, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand “Then how are you interested in me?”

“I’m not interested unless you’re a customer, or an employee here or something!” Frustrated, you grabbed the zip loc with the cookie in it “And I’ll be confiscating this!”

“Sure thing, I made it just for you. It's a special recipe”

“I’ll let the cops know!” you yelled getting in your car, throwing the cookie on the passengers side as you sped home for the night.

“So if I was an employee…or something...” he wondered gazing at the stars, his thoughts frenzying around as his mind came up with the most brilliant idea. Cackling loudly “you’ve really outdone yourself this time me.” Laughing as he got on his bike, speeding towards his apartment.

---

“A new employee?” You mused, It was pretty hectic at work recently, one of your employee’s had quit and they finally found a replacement “I wonder what they’re like”. You asked yourself as you prepared a training checklist to go over, making sure to not make it too hard on the new guy- you heard it was his first job after all. “Hello! And welcome to the Anavrin family!” you say smiling with closed eyes, as you open them your mouth went agape. ‘What the….’ had the demon cat from the parking lot shrunk and gotten more youthful?

“Hi, I’m Yuji Itadori. You must be my brother Sukuna’s friend. He said to write your name down as someone who referred me to the job”

Chuckling nervously with the clipboard in hand you checked off the box for introductions “I’m (name) the grocery supervisor, and you would be working under me mostly.” Friends with Sukuna? Cutting your wrists open and watching them bleed sounded like the better option.

As the shift progressed Yuji showed you he was the complete opposite of his older brother. Always finishing his tasks, being kind and sweet. Everyone else loved him too, just on the first day. He was stocking milk and eggs the way you had shown him, one of the last tasks of the night. The crowd of customers thinned out as it got late and the store was closer to its closing time. You watched to make sure he was doing them correctly and if he needed any help. ‘This wasn’t so bad’ you thought, closing your eyes and leaning back.

“So how’s my little brother been (name)?”

Your eyes shot open at that voice God no please. “He’s been amazing, but you can’t just put my name as a referral without asking me-” There stood a tall Sukuna in a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled back, probably coming after finishing his day job. Majority of his tattoos were covered except the lines on his wrists that were exposed, making you gulp inaudibly. Suddenly feeling underdressed in your uniform’s polo shirt and measly work pants and sweater as you stared up at his glory.

“Sorry darling, I can’t do what?” he smirked. Mentally praising himself as his plan got into action. He couldn’t lie, (name) was interesting. Always yelling at him, cursing him and swearing that she would murder him if it was the purge. His usual charm not working gave him more of a challenge. Not to mention the way she was kind to younger brother made his heart swell a little.

The annoyance returned once you saw his shit eating grin “You can’t write my name down without asking me!”

As he opened his mouth to speak, the intercom went off, notifying everyone that the store was now closed and any remaining customers should bring their purchases to the front to pay for them.

“Yuji you can go home now, I’ll put this away and start heading out myself” you say massaging your temples with your fingers.

“See you soon (name).” Sukuna winked as he walked towards the exit, waving behind at you as he went outside to wait for his brother.

---

Unfortunately soon had never come… at least not for the last 3 weeks. Making you miss the tall man in more ways than one. Maybe he wasn't so bad now that you thought about it. The usual nightly teasing might make you seethe but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t laugh about it later in your car. Somehow his laid backness and mocking smile made your night light up a little. And the weed that you would “confiscate” really did help you unwind after a long shift.

“Maybe it was because he saw me in my uniform” you grumbled. That had to be it. You weren’t a sore look on the eyes. Right? But compared to him… you hissed as you felt your lower half heat up and tremble at the thought of the man. “Well it's only 11:00 pm… and my first class is at 9:30 am… and then I have work at the 4:00.” Debating your options…. ‘This is why I’m probably so grumpy all the time, I think too much’

“And probably need to get laid” you said aloud. Living alone did have its perks, no one could call you crazy for talking to yourself. Your friends always nagged you about your dry spell too, but one night stands weren’t really fun to you anymore. They were too shallow and you always found yourself feeling more frustrated by them than relaxed.

Quickly rummaging through your drawer, you found your lovely device and turned it on. The buzz filled the room as you fell on the bed and groaned. Your mind was wild as you thought dirty little things about the man. Your eyes rolled back and you felt little whines erupt from your throat as you imagined him on top of you with his signature smirk, choking you and teasing you, calling you terrible names and whispering dirty things in your ear.

But as quickly as you heated up, the device buzzed and suddenly stopped. Too hazy to think straight you tried turning it on and off again, soon realizing it was the battery that was dead. “For fucks sake” you threw the vibrator and it hit the wall and fell with a loud thud. Good. Pulling your covers up, scowling as you shut your eyes to sleep.

The next day only went further downhill. Your lecture was long and uneventful, you forgot there was a guest speaker instead of the usual prof, most of the class skipped anyways so you sat alone and pretended to be interested. And as you went home from campus, your car broke down on the way leaving you stranded in the heat as you waited for the tow truck. You really just wanted to buy some batteries and get some time to yourself before work. But life had another thing planned once you got home, you only left with half an hour before you had to leave for work. Which barely gave you enough time to shower, change into an excuse of an outfit, grab your uniform and run out the door. You heard a few whistles as you ran to the bus stop, most likely because of the skimpy outfit which was pretty much just a long t-shirt made into a dress with stockings. But this was not the time to be picking fights.

Work was more mundane as ever. Emptying, stocking, organizing and talking was all that seemed to happen. You frowned for the nth time in the day when you saw Yuji was not scheduled to work today and you remembered him mentioning that he was going somewhere with friends for the next two days. The boy could always turn a bad day around. He was a blessing to the department and the store as a whole. The long day finally came to an end and the weekend awaited. Stuffing your uniform in your bag as you walked out you saw a familiar motorbike and a man leaning against it getting ready to light a joint.

You didn’t think, all you could hear were your footsteps smacking against the pavement as you ran to the man. Blood rushed to your head as you slowed down, stopping barely an inch away from him. He was wearing jeans and a dress shirt and most important, that smirk.

“I didn’t realize you missed me this much darling, otherwise-” but he was cut short as your hands gripped his head and pulled him down to your lips for a not so innocent kiss. You had to admit, you liked the guy. But as he responded by deepening the kiss and sliding his wet tongue into your mouth to taste you, you realized you wanted more of him. And you found yourself in his apartment, stripped down with his face buried between your legs as you came down from your second orgasm. Him licking you clean and not missing a single bit.

“When” you panted “when is Yuuji-” but he shushed you by gagging his fingers deep in your throat.

“Not until Sunday at least” he smiled with a sinister look, your wetness coating his lips “we have the whole weekend darling” He had waited almost two months for this so he was definitely going to take his time and relish the next few days. How could he not? You were beautiful with a fiery personality, and that showed by the ways you disobeyed him on his bed to get a reaction. It seemed the roles were reversed, but this time there would be consequences. For you at least.

He was relentless but you were no pussy and would not back down either. Both of you with fire and heat taking over your bodies as you brought spark and life into the night, wanting to explore every bit of each other, not stopping until you noticed the sun starting to rise causing exhaustion to take over.

He had let you stay to sleep in, provided you with a clean shirt to wear and even made breakfast for you. Presented you with a “gourmet plate of eggo waffles with the finest Aunt Jemimah maple syrup” he said which earned him a giggle from your pretty lips.

“I can make pretty good waffles from scratch” you told him proudly, puffing out your chest in pride. But these were special to you, the whole moment was special.

“I intend on trying them,” he spoke after a moment. He thought it was out of character for him to ask for a relationship but he wanted to be with you more than just a few times. And wanted more of you in different ways. He wouldn’t get his brother involved if it was a casual fuck relationship that he wanted. Which reminded him he owed the brat 50 bucks.

“Maybe you should come over sometime” you smiled sweetly, blushing a bit.

“I’d like to see you more, take out and get to know you” he said, interrupting your invitation.

“I’d like that too.” you said smiling.

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #reader inser #ryomen sukuna #yuuji itadori #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna fic #sukuna imagine

[adorerdraco]

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1

Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks

Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)

A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.

It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.

Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.

Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.

That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.

"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.

“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.

“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”

Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.

“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.

Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.

He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.

In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.

He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday. 

“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.

“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.

“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.

“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.

“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.

You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing. 

Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.

“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.

“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”

Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.

“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.

You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.

You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.

Until now.

The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.

Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.

“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.

“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.

“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”

“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.

“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.

You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.

‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”

Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.

“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.

He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.

He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.

Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.

“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.

“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”

“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”

“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”

Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.

“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.

“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.

Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.

When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”

“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”

Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”

With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.

“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say. 

He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.

Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands. 

You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt. 

You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder. 

That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you. 

Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.

“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.

“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”

After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.

You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.

“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.

It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his. 

He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.

“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”

Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.

You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.

“Anytime.”

That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.

It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut. 

He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.

He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.

Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.

“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”

You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.

“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.

“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.

“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain. 

“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”

“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”

“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”

“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.

“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”

“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.

“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him. 

“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”

“Not long enough.”

You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.

“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”

Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”

Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.

Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.

“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”

Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.

When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.

So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.

“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”

And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.

PART 2

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x ravenclaw!reader #draco malfoy x gryffindor #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco imagine #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy x female reader #harry potter writing #harry potter imagine #harry potter

[strayinvelvet]

just another date, i guess

going on a blind date is something you completely hated but your cute date makes you wanna give it a shot

pairing: felix x reader

genre: fluff, blind date au

wc: 1.9k

warnings: none

a/n: this piece is for @dnceracha​ as part of the @districtninewriters​ winter fic exchange!! ta-daa i am your winter fic exchange buddy!! i am very sorry for being late :( i didn’t wanna give a half-assed fic. i hope you like this! 

You could call yourself an independent woman who needs no man by her side.

You managed to survive from birth up to date with no romance and you are not one bit regretful. Yet somehow, your friends find it ridiculous that you still don’t have someone you can call yours.

That is how you found yourself sitting in a nice restaurant you never imagined you would visit, waiting for your supposedly “nice date”. It’s only been ten minutes actually but at least for you, this is not a good first date impression. 

Truth is you haven’t even met this guy in person. Logically speaking, it is only right for you to ditch this scene for your safety and just prepare for the holiday celebration. However, your friends managed to throw in their best persuasion skills to force you to meet this man in hopes of getting you a date before the holidays because according to their belief, it is a crime to not spend the holidays with a lover (the way you mentally rolled your eyes at that).

Well, you can’t ignore the fact that they probably mean well and are just looking out for you. You knew they were bound to do this sooner or later, counting the many times you have made them worried due to your habit of relying on yourself more than others. So, you said yes. Of course, you used this as an excuse that this will be your christmas gift to them which they said yes to as long as you meet this guy. Hitting two birds with one stone. You’ll get them to shut up about your non-existing dating life and you will not have to worry about their presents. 

Now, the only thing you are worrying about is your date. Changbin, the man behind all this, probably won’t prank, you thought. But as more minutes pass by, you’re starting to think he is actually pranking you or your date ditched you. You don’t know what’s worse. You were about to message Changbin for a failed blind date when a man stood in front of you, hair disheveled while catching his breath. 

“Are you perhaps y/n? Changbin’s friend?” Oh, he must be the guy.

“Yes and are you..?”

“Felix, yeah nice to meet you. I am really sorry for being late but it was really traffic and I ran into a couple who knocked me down and squashed my flowers so yeah…,” he trailed off as he held out his right hand to show you the small bouquet of flattened flowers.

He looked really worried and judging from the way he was talking, he ran all the way from the parking lot to the restaurant. You couldn’t say you weren’t touched by his cute actions. What an adorable boy and an adorable face at that. He looks apologetic enough. Suppose you could forgive the bad first impression?

“Hey, it’s ok. Why don’t you sit down first? Should I order now?” you smiled probably because of his effort to explain or because he’s adorable. When you noticed he was about to put the flowers away, you immediately asked him why. “I will just buy you another one. It’s really not a sight,” he smiled apologetically once again. Wow, ain’t he the most adorable guy you’ve ever met but you could really do with ones he have right now.

“It’s perfect. I’d be glad to receive it,” you returned his smile to assure him that you find no problem with the half destroyed roses. It’s adorable and realistic, nonetheless. “Well if you really want it,” he gave you the roses and you accepted with a kind smile and a thank you. Few moments later, the waiter arrived asking for your orders.

It wasn’t until the food arrived at your table did you finally realize how ridiculous Changbin is for setting you up in an expensive restaurant. The prices are no joke. You’ve expected this but still, you didn’t expect a mini bowl of soup that tastes like leaves with a sprinkle of meat and salt to cost this much. To think that this is the cheapest in their menu, sigh. You’re a broke college student afterall and like hell are you gonna pay for a full course meal.

Just pretend you’re on a diet and drink lots of water. That would be enough. 

“So you’re also a business major?” you asked as an attempt to distract yourself from the disappointing food in front of you.

“Yeah. Changbin told me you’re a communications major. How is it?” he asked back. He doesn’t look like he has any problems with his food. Rich people have weird tastes, you think.

“Yeah, it’s not honestly not much. How about yours?” you answered, trying to keep the conversation going.

The conversation went as basic as possible. The typical where do you live, what are you majoring in, what do you plan after you graduate and the likes. It ended as soon as you both finished your food, which was quite fast due to the unexpected small serving for the huge price. Like any other date, this couldn’t end without the who-will-pay debate. In the end, you managed to split the bill in half which unknowingly for you, is a win-win for Felix as well. 

“Thank you for the night, Felix I had fun,” you said as he held the door for you as you exit the building. “No worries! I had fun as well. Ah, you live in that area right? Since I live there too, I’ll give you a ride!” 

Now that is an offer you can’t decline. A free ride after spending that much. Why not? “Sure. Thank you,” you said trying to sound as gleeful as possible, trying to hide the still lingering disappointment from the food you just had.

The ride towards your apartment was quiet except for the short conversations that were thrown every now and then. It was, well, awkward. You couldn’t blame him though. He has a nice personality and all that, it was just the first impression kinda had a strong impact on you. Especially that the date was in a venue you definitely wouldn’t pick  if you were just asked. 

“Thank you for the ride,” you said as you hopped off the car. Felix watches you finally get off. “It’s nothing really. I hope to see you soon,” he said with a hopeful look.

“Me too,” you smiled for the last time before closing the door and entering your apartment complex. Felix waited for you to be completely inside before going off. 

Both of you sincerely wish you could meet again. Felix was just mesmerized by the way you tell your stories and you were mesmerized by his adorable clumsiness. But the date left a too strong impression  to make a plan anytime soon. Maybe next time when the earlier mess have turned into a fading memory. 

Both of you didn’t want it to be but you guessed, it was just another date again.

Later that night, your stomach was rumbling. Ah, it was finally acting up after giving it only one soup. Maybe one pack of ramen wouldn’t hurt? It’s vacation anyway so no one will see your bloated face next morning. You hastily got up, making you a bit dizzy, and fished for your wallet before running to the convenience store.

The moment you entered, your plan was set. Ramen and a serving of kimchi. Once you located the target, you immediately paid for it before cooking the cup ramen. You can already smell the spicy glory and it only made you more than hungrier. The soup was still hot yet you couldn’t care less. You dived for it like it was your last meal. Man did that restaurant really starve you. 

In the midst of your enjoyment, a deep voice interrupted you. “Hey, let’s share your kimchi. I’ll share my potatoes,” he said and you were confused. Wow. People are too courageous these days to ask a stranger to share food. 

You looked up at the man with your mouth full of noodles only to choke on them when you realize that the man in front of you is the same man you just had a date with. His eyes also widened at the sight of you but he recovered faster upon the realization that you are choking. He immediately patted your back and gave you some water which you accepted and drank. When the lump subsided, you managed to look at him again and ask, “Felix?”

“y/n?”

“Why are you here?” you asked dumbfounded.

“I told you I live in this area too.”

“Yeah but why are you here in the convenience store at this time of the night.”

“I … was… hungry…” he paused, “I am not insinuating anything, I was just really hungry,” he was hesitant to say it due to the fear that you might think the date was bad. But truthfully, you were the same.

“No it’s okay I was hungry too,” you also contemplated before continuing but it is best to be honest now that you met again, very soon than what you expected, “to be honest, I am not a fan of that restaurant.”

Felix, who unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief looked at you with twinkling eyes, “you know what? Same! I had to ask Changbin why on earth did he set us up in that place when it’s way too expensive.”

You giggled at his cuteness, “he was the only one who could afford it,” you rolled your eyes at Changbin like he was with the two of you at that moment. It was Felix’s turn to giggle, “Right? Maybe we should have asked him to pay for our food.” With that, you both laughed sincerely like you were given a chance to let your run loose and be carefree.

When your laughs died down, you cleared your throat softly and asked him, “so, do you want some kimchi?”

He smiled a large on slid his pack of instant crispy potatoes to your side, "sure thing, lady. And here's my potatoes," he wriggle his eyebrows.

"Can't believe you asked a stranger to share food," you went back to your ramen to blow on it before continuing your snack. "I was desperate, okay? I was really hungry so I just reached for whatever I could find but then I saw your kimchi and I wanted one too but my money is not enough," he replied without looking at you, focusing on his own food.

You noticed, for the second time, his habit of overexplaining things and, for the second time, you found it extremely adorable. You reached for one of his potatoes using your chopsticks and chomped on it. "Well, your potatoes don't taste too bad."

"That's why I said let's share not let's exchange."

Laughter again erupted from your mouths and you finally felt it. A conversation that is free flowing. One that is not forced or made just to lessen the awkwardness and the stiff air around. There wasn't even a stiff air around this time. It was just the two of you, your instant noodles and your amusement of each other.

Felix felt it too, how this night felt more of a date than the earlier dinner. There were no flowers, fancy plates and dresses. It was a night (midnight) that does not require masking to satisfy the other. He was in his pajamas and you were in your hoodie. How much more raw could it get?

Finally, both of you felt like this time, it was a proper date.

It was past two in the morning when you finally got home. Time seems to fly during your unexpected midnight snack with Felix. You didn't mind spending more time with Felix but he insisted that all the rendezvous today must have made you exhausted. And you agreed. It was only now when you finally felt your aching calf from the heels earlier that evening and your heavy eyelids. You were more than thankful that Felix was considerate enough to walk you home. When you thought you were about to fall asleep, a notification rang your phone.

Felix (changbin friend): See you tomorrow, maybe?

Y/n: See you tomorrow. :)

Guess it wasn’t just another date after all.

#districtninewriters #inkidz #stray kids #stray kids au #lee felix #stray kids x reader #skz au #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenario #felix x you #felix x reader #i got some inspo from the kdrama cheese in the trap

[cursed-ice-spirits]

You ever wonder how Duncan Ashe died? And what happened that night? You’re about to find out. Special thanks to @angrynar for teaming up with me for the @hphmbang2020! Hope you guys enjoy <3

Late. It was very late. It had been hours since he last rested and he wasn’t even remotely done. Duncan Ashe groaned and peeled his face off his book, feeling a sharp crack as he etched his head to the left. Rubbing at the dull ache that shot from his neck to his shoulder and fingertips, Duncan squinted at the spinning words in his notes, trying to force himself to stay awake. His head seemed to pound.

There was no time to rest.

He needed this done, and an Erumpent potion required all his attention.

The door suddenly opened with a loud creak, sending light into the room. Duncan lunged for his wand, grasping it around the handle and whirling around to face the intruder, but relaxed when he saw who was standing in the doorway.

“Jacob,” he said, breathing a breath of relief, lowering his wand. “Did someone follow you?”

The other boy shook his head, pursing his lips as he pushed into the room. “Snape almost did,” he admitted, looking just as exhausted as he felt. “Managed to get him off my tail, though.” Jacob shrugged off his bag and tossed it aside, ignoring his friend’s half hearted glare when it was thrown haphazardly against the table. Gripping the back of the chair, he leaned over Duncan’s shoulder, squinting at his notes. “Your handwriting is shit,” he muttered. “How’s the potion going along?”

“Not as bad as yours.” Duncan eyed the cauldron sitting against the wall. “It’s doing fine, at least I hope it is. It has to settle for…” he glanced over his notes. “Twenty more minutes. Then I’ll have to…” He trailed off when he saw the way Jacob’s face flickered with guilt. “Jacob, what’s going on?”

Jacob rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the wall for a moment, then heaved out a sigh and reached into his robes, withdrawing a note. “I’ve gotten word from R,” he said tiredly, sliding it over. “They, well, it’ll be better if you read this yourself.”

Narrowing his eyes, Duncan slowly took hold of the note and drew it closer to him. As he continued to read the note, a deep anger started curling inside his gut, rolling down his throat like red hot lava, until he was throwing the note aside and pushing himself out of his seat. He turned slightly to search through his bag. “Tell them fuck no.”

“Duncan—”

“Don’t ‘Duncan’ me!” He snapped, turning sharply. “Do they not understand an Erumpent potion? A potion containing the parts of an Erumpent requires you to be delicate and patient, and rushing it will cause it to backfire and then we’ll have to start all over again! Tell them no!”

“I already told you several times before,” Jacob said, heaving out a heavy sigh. He pushed his hair out of his face, looking exhausted. “I can’t.”

This again…. he wanted to shake him. Why can’t he give clear answers for once?

“Why not?”

“You know why!” Jacob tugged at his hair and turned away, starting to pace. “They have resources. If we pull out now, we’ll trip over ourselves and we’ll never get what we need!”

Duncan stared at him for a moment, clenching his jaw. “Do we really need the treasure from the Cursed Vaults?”

“What kind of question is that?” Jacob stopped pacing and whirled around, staring straight at him, disbelief clear in his eyes. “They want it! We want it! Of course we do! Isn’t that what we agreed on when we started this?”

“Yes, but I can’t continue! We’re risking our lives for R!” Duncan snapped. “They’re asking for the impossible! I can’t brew this potion by tonight! I know we agreed to search the Vaults together but… come on, this is too far. I can’t do this anymore — even I know when to back away.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Jacob’s gaze wavered. “So you’re just gonna leave me alone in this?”

Duncan’s throat closed up. “N-No that’s not what I’m saying at all. Don’t twist my words and stop manipulating me — I’m saying this is too much—“

“I’m not!” Jacob roared, slamming his fist on the table. “I thought we agreed we were in this together! I thought we agreed to find whatever’s in the Vaults together! We can’t just… stop. Not now…”

“Yes we can! And I’m saying we’re gonna end this together!” Duncan stepped forward, gripping Jacob’s shoulders, desperation at his throat. “Come on, Jacob, once they have no use for us, they’ll throw us away and leave us to rot. They don’t care about us. We’re nothing but tools. We’ll die if we continue. Are you willing to risk that?”

Jacob worked his jaw furiously and glanced away, something dark and cold coming over his face, something that sent shivers down his spine. Duncan’s throat dropped to his stomach. He can’t possibly…

“Come on, Jacob… say no. Come on, you can’t seriously be willing to risk that for the Vaults, come on…”

Jacob placed his hands on Duncan’s own…. and pulled them away. “I’m sorry, Duncan, but I have to do this, regardless if you’re in or not.”

Duncan gritted his teeth, tears of frustration forming in his eyes. No matter what he says or does to convince him to back out, he can never get to him. Every word he throws at his face is being hit against a brick wall.

He can’t get to him.

He opened his mouth. He could say no. He could tell him he wants no part of this anymore. He could tell him he’s out. He could leave and he could stay out of this damn mess, because there was no way he was going to convince Jacob not to go after the Vaults. He knows who’s possible to be saved out of a situation and who’s completely hopeless.

Jacob’s hopeless, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

But looking at him now…. Duncan faltered. No. No, he can’t say no. He can’t leave Jacob alone in this. He can’t let R do whatever they want with him now that he’s gone and out of the way.

He can’t. He cares about him way too much to leave him alone with R. If he leaves now… if he leaves him around… he’ll do something stupid, something that he can’t wiggle out of.

He can’t let that happen, no matter how stupid Jacob is. He can’t lose Jacob like they lost Olivia.

Duncan rubbed his thumb against the corner of his eyes and turned away. “You’re impossible. Fine, I’ll brew the dumb potion.”

Jacob blinked, the coldness disappearing. He looked dumbfounded. He didn’t blame him. Hope and relief lit up his face, and it hurt. “You… You will?”

Duncan huffed and folded his arms. “I’m not leaving you alone in this, am I? Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”

Slowly, Jacob’s face split into a grin, before he threw his arms over him. “I knew you’d come to your senses! I’ll go prepare for tonight. I’ll come back in a couple of hours, alright? Remember to have this finished tonight. See you then!”

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, forcing tears away as he hugged back briefly, before pulling away. “Yeah yeah, Whatever. Just do your thing. I’ll try my best to finish.” He paused for a moment, before insisting, “I promise.”

“See you in a few hours.”

Arms pulled away from his shoulders. Jacob lifted his bag from the table and headed off. As footsteps slowly walked out of the room, Duncan shook his head and sank into his seat, staring at his notes in despair.

There will always be something he’ll always do for him no matter what, huh? Gritting his teeth, Duncan dashed his hand across his eyes and made for the cauldron, slipping on his dragonhide gloves again.

The time was up anyway. He’ll have to finish this. Maybe it’s impossible to finish this potion by tonight, but if he pulls every trick he knows about potions...

He’ll finish it. Somehow. But he will.

He promised after all.

-

Hours pass by. A thick haze clouded his mind as his hands moved automatically. Adding ingredients, chopping them up, crushing them, measuring out the proper measurements, turning up the heat and waiting.

He lost how much time passed by.

Add 5 slices of an erumpent tail. Stir until it's dissolved. Wait. Etc…

Grind the horn into fine powder. Crush it with the knife. It’ll be easier. Measure it. Add it into the potion. Stir. Let it boil for maybe 30 minutes. Etc…

It goes on and on. Duncan’s eyes were starting to sting, and sweat drenched his brow as he turned up the heat just a little bit more, using far too many shortcuts to save time in order for it to be finished by tonight. Is it dangerous? Yes. Is it risky? Yes. But it needed to be done by the time they got to the Vault.

Duncan pushed his hair out of his face and wiped sweat off his forehead, taking a moment to himself to just breathe, rubbing aching and trembling fingers. He’s just so tired. Tired from so many sleepless nights, tired from being worked to the bone, but he promised. Swore to Jacob’s face he promised to finish the potion by tonight, and he always stuck by promises, no matter what, or how crazy it is.

Onto the last step. Duncan levitated a small vial full of yellow liquid out of his pack. It looked small, harmless, but it was the fluid that allowed an Erumpent horn to explode. One wrong move and it’s over.

Taking a deep breath, he shakingly let it out as he carefully opened the vial.

The last step: Add 10 drops of Exploding Fluid. Measure 5mg. There should be a black ring of smoke hovering over the cauldron for each drop. The liquid should bubble. This is because of the explosive fluid mixing with the potion. Wait until the smoke clears to add the next drop. Boil at 82 degrees for an hour. The potion should turn yellow.

This is… the most critical step. Exploding Fluid is something to be handled carefully. No shortcuts.

Holding a hand to the vial, Duncan carefully tipped the vial over, and watched the first drop roll out of the vial and down into the unfinished potion.

As it dropped into the potion, a ring of black smoke rose, circling over the cauldron. The liquid itself was starting to bubble, not gently, but not too violently for it to be worrisome. Duncan swallowed and set the vial down.

Now to wait.

Slowly and before his eyes, the black smoke started to disperse and rose to the ceiling, particles slowly disappearing into the air. Duncan leaned over, gripping his wrist with his other hand to add the next drop, and leaned back as the black smoke started to form again. Rinse and repeat. His hand was starting to shake and ache from working for so long. But he was so close to finishing… he can’t stop now… he promised...

It was at the fifth drop that things… went wrong. He didn’t know what went wrong. Maybe he made a mistake or two earlier and it just acted now. Maybe he wasn’t careful enough. But it did.

And it went so horribly wrong.

As Duncan added the fifth drop, the mixture suddenly turned black and fizzled violently, the liquid sloshing inside the cauldron and expanding. Pausing, he carefully set the vial down and leaned away, watching the mixture warily. By the time he realized what was happening, he only had a few seconds to dive for the table before the cauldron exploded into a literal ball of fire.

The blast exploded through the air, followed by flames, sending him crashing hard against the wall. Heat seared through his clothes as flames licked at his heels, rubble crumbling from the walls, large chunks spilling out as the flames quickly started spreading. Duncan’s gasps of pain became swallowed by smoke, ash, and soot, even as he shoved his hand to his mouth and coughed harshly, spitting and sputtering.

His ears were ringing. His chest burned with agony. Duncan crawled out from the walls of flames, doubling over in fits of coughs, eyes watering, trying to fix his vision on the door...

He had to get out. Get out…

Jacob.

Jacob.

Shouting wavered slowly through his ears outside. They hurt, but he knew help was out there. Duncan gripped his burning fingers on the ridges of the floor and dragged himself up, wrapping one arm around his burning, burning torso. Too much smoke. Too much pain. It burns. Everything hurts. He can’t breathe. He’s not gonna make it—

He’s not gonna make it.

He’s gonna die. Everything is over. He didn’t even graduate yet. He didn’t even get a chance to spend a normal life with Jacob and having fun without having to worry about stupid Cursed Vaults trying to take over their lives and now Jacob is gonna be all alone with stupid R and stupid Rakepick and stupid Dumbledore—

As he made his way to the door, flames licking at his sides and sending burns that stung as they made contact with the rubble scattered along the floor, he parted chapped lips to call for help, but the resulting noise ended up in coughing fits and wheezing breaths that rocked against his ribcage. He doubled over, curling into a ball, pain wrecking his body.

He’s not gonna make it.

He slumped against the floor, too weak to continue his journey to the door, his vision blurring at the edges. Someone was shouting orders outside. Dumbledore? Snape? He‘ll never know.

Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, smoke filling his lungs, as he took his last breath just as the door banged open hard enough to smash against the door and bounce back, voices shouting.

I’m sorry, Jacob.

-

“What do you mean something happened with Duncan!?”

Professor McGonagall hesitated. He should have taken that as a bad sign. She never hesitated. “There appears,” she said slowly, “to be… an incident, with Mr Ashe.”

“What kind of incident?” Jacob stressed, fixing the Transfiguration Professor with a look of dismay. “What happened, Professor?”

McGonagall gave him a mournful look. A look that burned into his eyes. “...it’ll be best if you see for yourself,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder and leading him to the direction of where he last left Duncan.

“I don’t understand… why can’t you explain it now?!”

“His… condition is very delicate. Please understand…”

Her voice turned to white noise. The longer they walked, the more fear started building up in his gut, hands shaking as his fingers dug into his palms, until he finally tore himself from McGonagall’s grip and raced up ahead.

He saw it before it came.

Students surrounded the outside of the room, smoke pooling up into pillars to the ceiling. The teachers were right in the middle, arguing as Snape and Pomfrey disappeared inside the room to search for something. Or… someone.

Realization dawned on him.

No…

He’s not…

It can’t be…

They went too far. He pushed him too far.

Jacob surged forward, tearing across the floor to the crowd.

He should have known, Duncan always keeps his promises no matter what, he should have never took advantage of that and now—

“Out of the way!”

He shoved someone carelessly aside and pushed past the crowd, ignoring the startled yells after him and students trying to stop him. He didn’t care. He needed to get to Duncan.

“DUNCAN!!”

He pushed past the last student and forced his way to the door and… stopped.

An explosion had completely wrecked the room. The door was wide open, revealing the damage done. The cauldron Duncan used for the Erumpent Potion had its top blown clean off, and it laid discarded against the wall, completely destroyed and unusable. The table had been blown into pieces, charred pieces laying about, drenched with water (possibly from Aguamenti), embers flickering weakly in the wreck. Soot covered the walls, and large chunks of rubble were scattered inside and outside the room. Dust filled the air.

He wasn’t focused on any of that.

He was focused on the boy being carried out in the arms of Snape and Pomfrey.

Duncan Ashe laid limp, burnt robes in tatters around him and eyes squeezed shut, an arm wrapped loosely around his torso. Burns littered his body from what Jacob could see, blistering red. Sweat and water drenched his face, smearing the soot over his cheeks and uncovering his skin. Ash and spot drifted through his hair, and his skin was colored a gray pallor.

Jacob surged forward.

“DUNCAN!!”

Hands gripped around his injured friend and pulled him out of the Potions Professor and Matron’s reach. Snape opened his mouth, a look of anger flickering over his face as he looked down at Jacob, before Pomfrey put a hand to his arm with tears in her eyes, shook her head, and led him away.

Where he didn’t know, nor cared.

He was focused on his friend.

Jacob wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him closer, using his other hand to shake him, desperation wrapping its arms around his throat and strangling him.

“Duncan…. Duncan!... Duncan, wake up… wake up please…”

Duncan’s head rolled back and forth, chapped lips gaping slightly. Jacob gritted his teeth, twisting his fist into his burnt robes. His vision started to blur from tears.

“Duncan please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I should have listened! Come on, wake up so Pomfrey can heal you up and we can quit together — come on, wake up, this isn’t funny!!”

Still no answer. He reached out a trembling hand and wiped away some of the soot on his face. It smeared his fingers and colored them black. He didn’t care.

“Duncan!!”

No answer. Why wasn’t he answering him?! He pressed his forehead against Duncan’s, tears rolling down his face as he gritted his teeth, a small cry of pain escaping. He couldn’t feel his breath against his face. He wasn’t breathing. He moved to press his head against his chest.

He didn’t have a heartbeat.

He wasn’t waking up.

There was a dull roaring in his ears as he pulled away and looked down at his friend. Duncan laid limp as always, a look of pain etched permanently on his face. Tears rolled down his face. Numbness seemed to take over.

Duncan Ashe is dead.

Duncan, I’m sorry.

He was unaware of the ghost figure that watched as McGonagall gently pulled Jacob away to let Madam Pomfrey treat the young Slytherin, only for her to give a shake of her head seconds later, a shadow of sadness crossing her face, nor did he see the look of anger on the ghost’s face as he put the blame on himself.

The ghost turned away.

Duncan Ashe is dead.

#hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm bang #hphmbang2020 #duncan ashe #hphm jacob #reverse bang #hphm reverse bang #hphm fanfic #hphm fanfiction #hphm fic #lunar writes #writing this hurt thanks

[ahmedmootaz]

Magica is trapped in an alternate timeline where Scrooge never became the richest duck in the world.

I-It’s been five thousand years...but finally, finally, I have finished writing, @veryman ! It’s been around six months, and for that I am sorry, but I had little time to write lately.

Either way, I finished the prompt which you sent me, and I’d like it if you would tell me your feedback! I expanded a bit on what you gave me; I added Poe as a secondary protagonist, and I added a bit more before the disappearance of Scrooge, and I do hope you do not mind. But regardless, I am eager to hear your feedback! I appreciate every comment I get, so do leave one, please. Again, my sincerest apologies for the wait.

Here’s the story:https://archiveofourown.org/works/29333367

And for anyone who does not want to visit Archive of Our Own for whatever reason, here’s the story on Tumblr! Just note the italics don’t go over too well.

Mount Vesuvius was like a wonderfully drawn painting; it managed to capture many elements at once, and yet showed little of them at a time. Its grey, ash-covered surface was only stopped by the occasional greenery or shrubs, grown from the rain's puddles on its cliffs. A towering mountain, its silhouette gave a grandiose sense to the city it was in. The contrast between the calm forests below it and the harsh towering structure, like any great painting, only added to the beauty of the panorama it created.

And, of course, like any great painting, it hid a secret. A teeny, tiny secret, really; it was a volcano. With enough power to completely melt the colourful villages surrounding it, alongside the better part of Naples. No one often went to the top, as its unpredictable eruption patterns made it a dangerous venue. Besides, the summit was completely barren, with only the rare lizard or the few bushes up there. Only a madman would even think to consider it "hospitable."

Well, barring the small, comfortable looking wooden house on its top. That looked hospitable enough. Old and nearly falling apart, it was a miracle it didn't need supports at this point. It was as if it was held by magic. On this summit, there was nothing. A cold, harsh breeze that encouraged none to remain there, and the dead atmosphere certainly clashed against the small farm and the clothes left to dry in the sun. The unusual sight would perhaps intrigue a traveller who managed to get to the summit, but the few crashed cars next to the hut would probably dissuade them from going any further.

In this calm wasteland, where the air never relaxed, every second more tense than the last, silence reigned supreme, utoppab-

-"BWAHAHAHA! I did it, Poe! I did it! At last, I managed to brew the perfect potion! It'll finally give the Lucky Dime to its rightful owner, destroy my greatest enemy and make me the greatest sorceress on earth!", well, it was dominant for a moment, at least. The victory cries from this little abode came from none other than Magica DeSpell, the solitary sorceress who called it her home.

Standing before a large cauldron, a large potion-book beside her and several jars of materials arranged in a neat order on the table next to her, her joy was a sick, intoxicating one, filled with villainy and vengeance. On that table stood a raven, much larger than the average one, almost twice the size, with its only distinct feature being a small summer hat, black with a white stripe going around it.

-"Yes, very wonderful, Mistress Magica.", adding to the unusual situation, the raven spoke back, both admiring and giving the sorceress in front of him a reprobating glare. "Though I have to admit, it wasn't easy very much to gather the ingredients. We almost lost our lives three times too much getting these things...", he added, turning his neck to the pots and bottles of the materials they gathered throughout the month. The sorceress, however, appeared irritated.

-"Oh, for goodness' sake! We're alone, Ratface, why can't I call you by your real name? If you keep pestering me with that, then I'll have no choice but to keep reminding you of your awful grammar.", she complained, hunching her back a bit, an invisible pang of guilt hitting her chest for a second before she shook it off.

Magica DeSpell was known for many things, but guilt was, perhaps unsurprisingly, not one of them. It wasn't a trait preferred by Villainesses such as herself. An exception to that rule, however, was her brother, Poe. Or as he went by these days, Ratface.

Once a regular duck like her, he was the closest person she had left. He'd accompany her on pretty much anything, alongside her raids on Scrooge. One fateful day however, a spell ricocheted of a wall and hit him, and she never forgave herself since. It was supposed to hit a blank! But of course Scroogie had to have a mirror behind him...why wouldn't he? At this point, everything she did was always countered by him somehow...And of course the spell had to be an irreversible one. Why wouldn't it have been?

-"Well, this time he'll pay...", she mumbled to herself, having forgotten about the outside world for a second.

-"Hm?", the raven inquired, and when she ignored his curiosity, he gave a glare before speaking. "We must speak like this, Mistress, because otherwise we may end up revealing our identities by accident in front of someone who shouldn't them know.", he explained for the umpteenth time at this point, trying to redress his hat with his wings. It was difficult to get used to them at first, however, he eventually managed to somewhat use them as hands. "And we don't want these people to know, because they can black-mail us. And because I don't want anyone discover that now I am a raven.", he added, ignoring the mumbling from his 'master'.

-"Yes, yes. Whatever, Ratface. Besides, you don't get to lecture me; I am the boss-lady after all, eh?", she shot back, enjoying the eyes of her 'familiar' as they narrowed and his beak as he grit it.

-"While that may be true,", he started, a bit calmer than you'd expect, not wanting to lose this teasing contest, "I also have my rights to input my optional completely suggestions, boss-lady, and I believe they have been proven to be quite useful in the past.", he added, stopping for moment and looking at the sorceress in front of him, who fully turned to him and gave him a wide, fake grin.

-"Hmm...They're fine points, but is there something that reaaaaally to force me to listen to you?", she repeated, hoping to break his constant mantra of hiding his identity. Partly because she wanted to be able to call her brother...her brother, y'know, 'call a duck a duck' sort of deal, and partly to escape this guilt she felt by teasing him, trying to forget her guilt for the moment.

Poe wasn't one to care much what people thought of him. He was a man that went on his way and never looked back. Too many times, anyways. They were basically a dream-team until this stupid raven stuff happened. But now, ever since that incident, he merely avoided anyone who knew of his existence and kept this fake-name. She suspected it was out of shame, and it weighed heavy on her, trust her. She tried waving these thoughts away as she watched the bird in front of her almost simmer at this point.

-"B-Because, dearest mistress, me-am a bit older than you in raven-years, which gives me a-", he stopped his imminent rant, sniffing something in the air. "THE BREW!", he yelled, dragging the tall magician's attention and making her run to the pot, which was on a gas cooker. Hey, they had the old log-chimney pot, but they were modern magicians, and when they were pressed on time, it was simply easier than to collect logs or buy them. Freaking inflation and rising wood prices...

-"Alrightalrightalright, so now we...uh, the lizard tail, sewn with tarantula silk to a lizardfish tail, we put it in...", Magica mumbled to herself, picking up the ingredient and throwing it in. Trust her when she said tarantula silk wasn't cheap, but the results were going to be so, so worth it. "And we mix things up until it turns dark-blue.", she finished, bringing a wooden spoon and turning it in the boiling, sickly-yellow liquid.

-"That's it? No 'innocent's blood' this time?", the black bird next to her spoke as he moved closer to the pot. She shook her head, knowing where he was getting at. For some reason, a lot (a lot) of spells needed blood for one reason or another, and it often had to be 'pure duck blood'. It often was an issue for most accomplished sorcerers to find it, and despite it being an advantage to the pair, they didn't really enjoy sticking needles into their own arms and using their blood...

As he sighed, relieved at what meant that he wouldn't have to take a pinch of his blood this time, as they did alternate that role, he watched the viscous brew boil more ferociously, unnaturally strong as it started getting darker and darker while the duck brewing it kept stirring and stirring, carefully avoiding the splashing from the bubbles.

-"Alright, Ratface!", she announced as the potion's colours darkened in front of their eyes, her voice going low and becoming more and more sinister by the second, "This is the Magnum Opus of an entire month's work! The Bougeaia Autrepart!", she proudly boasted, a smile growing on her pale, green-ish face.

She quickly moved her hand to shut off the gas, probably waiting for the awe her partner-in-sharing-the-household would give her. Not that he did so much, as he wasn't one to be entirely surprised by her actions given his time with her, but when he did, it made all of her effort a lot more worth it, if only to see a dumbfounded expression on his face while she proudly explains her plan.

-"Very well. It is one of the most difficult potions a magician can make, and we have a quantity very large. It is perhaps one of our better devised plans.", he devilishly added, not really that surprised. She found it hard to blame him when they both worked for around 25 days to gather the ingredients and the money; somewhere down the line she must've told him. Or maybe he read up on what they were going to create.

-"Indeed it is, and now, hand me the doll, Ratface!", she commanded, raising a clenched fist for dramatic effect, He shook his head at the dramatic display and went to the other end of the table he stood on, picking up a small doll that vaguely resembled Scrooge McDuck  with his claw and handing it to his 'mistress'. "Just be a bit careful. It wasn't easy to make this thing.", she called out, cringing at the inelegant handling the raven gave the doll.

-"Oh, tell me about it. I was with you at the Hydra's lair, you know that? And I gathered half of the Mortal Sand we got there, so don't think I don't know how precious is this.", he complained, remembering something for a second, "Speaking of which, you never did make up for that hat I lost there.", he reprimanded, trying to cross his wings. He didn't have much success, but it looked good enough, and he couldn't ask for more, really.

-"Yeah, maybe later.", she ignored him, and before he could begin scolding her for the umpteenth time today, she picked up a ladle and started submerging it in this 'Bougeaia Autrepart.', taking care not to spill any on herself before she started coating the small doll in her hand with the liquid, watching as the dark blue colour got embedded in its cloth.

-"You know, I'd like a quick reminder on what we're doing here before we get started. Don't want another plan where I have to figure out the details as we go on, because those just work so wonderfully.", Ratface...or, well...Poe? Whatever, he asked, looking a bit worried as his sister laid the doll on the ground in a neat and clean corner or their household, one that was made for spells which required some space.

-"What, Alzheimer's gotten to you that quick?", she shot back at him, not daring to look at him before she finishes laying the doll on the ground. When she noticed he wasn't going to argue with her, she started explaining. "Honestly, we were just talking about it...but fine, here's the general outline: We both agreed that taking Scrooge is pretty difficult on its own, yes? So how about a world without Scrooge in the first place? The Bougeaia Autrepart is designed to move people into other places, but with some of the additions we've made, in combination with this little vodoo doll, it's going to be rather interesting, and we can remove Scrooge from this world!", she repeated the plan they'd agreed on, trying again for her dramatic accent.

-"Right, right. And we're just going to take the dime in his absence.", he completed, scratching his 'chin'. "I don't know, Ma- Uh, Mistress, our luck with reality-altering spells is pretty...", he hesitated, trying to find an accurate description of their experiences.

-"Is pretty much the definition of the word 'failure' in every single language on this earth?", she finished with him, somewhat bitterly.

-"Well, when you put it that way, I'll just have to agree.", he agreed, shrugging.

-"Yes, yes, I know, but trust me, this time this time, it'll be different!", she argued back, somewhat on the defensive. "See, this time, with Scrooge never actually in this world, it can't go back to bite us; we're not playing with the rules against Scrooge, he's not there in the first place.", she laughed, basking in the glory of her flawless plan. "...You're still not impressed, are you?", she narrowed her eyes as she stared at the raven, who seemed lost in thought.

-"I don't know...these things are so vaguely written in the books, and always it turns out to be un-complete. We practically re-wrote half of our tomes, remember?", as it turns out, several of the Elder Sorcerers were, believe it or not, villains, and trying to keep the most knowledge to themselves, their writings were often incomplete, especially the bigger spells. They had to applaud their tenacity at first, but a few failed plans later, it started becoming less interesting and more devastating.

-"Well, yes,", Magica admitted, looking at the floor for a moment, "But the worst possible thing that could happen here is it not working, or being temporary. It can't be that bad."

-"I mean...The offer of Scrooge just poof-ing away is tempting...And I can't think of a too terrible outcome...", he slowly came around, and the green-ish duck immediately jumped on the opportunity to convince him. Well, not so much convince him so much as it was to quickly to the spell before he starts thinking too much about it.

"See? You were just being stupid, But worry not, my dear familiar, I, Magica DeSpell, am not without mercy, and I will forgive this outrageous way of talking if you just help me do this spell as quickly as possible.", she proudly boasted, bringing a hand to rest on her chest. His blank stare gave her the impression that he wasn't all too impressed with her gloating. "Just come here and let me finish the recitation, alright?!", she snapped at him, having had enough of his cynical behaviour.

-"What, with these clothes? Shouldn't we prepare for something or-", he started, looking at her 'battle-clothes': her cloaked witch robe, stained with their various ingredients. But before he could even finish his sentence, she'd already turned to the wall, sat on her knees and opened her arms to both sides, as if she was awaiting an embrace.

-"Too late; I'm starting it now.", she turned her head back to him, sticking her tongue out for half a second and ignoring the 'Wait!' he produced. "O' sanguina del mon enemmi mortel, repondra O' appels que t'entendra, O' abyssum qu'attend, repond à ma voca!", she started the chant, immediately letting the room darken and letting loose some purple sparks from the lifeless doll, which started levitating. "Bring my greatest wish true; with the final words of my mouth, McDuck shall be gone like a moth!", she suddenly spoke, the doll spinning a bit too violently for her taste.

The room kept on darkening, and some of the pots and containers she had began to hit each other. Which was basically the same thing that happened with every other spell nowadays. It lost its original impact. Regardless, she felt Ratface beside her, and the doll started emanating even stronger sparks, making a dull, constant humming that kept getting louder and louder.

Her breathing got heavy for a moment, alongside her head, and she felt herself blacking out as if something was choking her. The air grew heavy for one fateful moment, and then with a 'zap', everything returned to normal. Her breathing suddenly cleared, and she took a deep breath to celebrate it. She noticed Ratface also took a gasp. Apparently, this one didn't just affect the caster, but the entire area. That was something they'd have to add to the spell book. She hoped there weren't too many others.

-"...That's it? Feels rather underwhelming, but maybe it's my experience with spells that affect the caster.", her brother suddenly managed out. Of course his first action after this would be bragging. Why wouldn't it?

-"Oh, zip it, feathers, I heard your panting. Bragging doesn't change the reality.", she looked at him as he felt his small hat and straightened his feathers, some of which had puffed out due to his quick breathing.

-"And so I shall, Mistress, O' queen of humility, if only the entire world is humble as you were!", he praised her, raising his wing up above him, as if to glorify the duck beside him. "Then you'll find out how terrible you are at boasting.", he added under his breath, a wide grin on his beak.

-"Oh why you...!", she got on her legs and reached for him, hoping to catch him, but he was faster than her, and his wings were infinitely more developed, and so he took to the skies...or, well, to their roof, avoiding her grasp and yet flying just out of reach. "Just wait until I've had my hands on you, you walking grammatical error! I'll pinch each and every one of your feathers off!", she yelled after him, shooting a few simplistic spells at him, which he avoided with ease.

-"Sure, blame the italian guy you forced to learn English in two weeks, typical.", he shot back, his wide grin still present, the only spells catching him barely grazing his tail. A few moments later, she gave up on de-feathering her brother, stopping to take her breath.

-"Oh, bugger off, you've had far more time to practice. You're just messing with me.", she countered, looking at him as he lightly flapped above her. She turned her head away from him with a frown and looked at the outside. Yep, still as sunny as ever. It wasn't really ideal weather for staying inside, but villainy did not take vacations!...Well, that was a lie, but she'd take one right after her great success with this plot. "The outside!", she suddenly yelled out, running for her door and opening it, walking onto her 'Welcome' mat before stopping and looking around.

-"Uh, Mistress?", her familiar said as he landed on her shoulder, something he'd been practising for a while now; he didn't hit her head anymore. "Is there something about the sun...?", he suggested, looking around him. The same small magical farm, their clothes were in the same position, and the same pile of crashed cars.

-"I don't know...Guess I thought there'd be some change, I guess.", she answered, scratching her head. "Which isn't that smart. Now what? How do we know if something's happened?", she asked him, turning back to enter her home.

-"...Probably from the bald, skinny vulture we have on our dart-board now.", her helper suddenly noted, and she turned her head to the wall where she had Scroogie's head on display. As a picture, unfortunately, but all in time. What interested her, however, was that her nemesis' picture's was now replaced by a vulture. An ugly one, too. And it's not like Scrooge was Mr.America, but this one had wrinkles.

-"What the heck? I thought the spell removed Scroogie from the world! What did that have to do with this chuckleschmuck?", she walked to the picture on their dart-board, focusing on their apparently new rival, who had a few darts scattered around various parts of his face.

-"Unless...", the raven on her shoulder started, bringing a wing to his face and trying to imitate a knuckled fist. "Unless it removed him from this timeline in first place, after, making someone else become the richest duck in the world. Or richest vulture in the world.", he theorized, his tone becoming a little too aggressive at the end. "Another addition to the tomes...", of course. It could never be that easy. Why would it be?

-"...Great.", well, at least she could openly complain about it this time, given that there was no warning of this beforehand. She brought a hand to her face and quietly facepalmed, shaking her head for a bit. "So we still have some old, ugly miser we have to take care of. And we don't have any memory of fighting this guy.", truly a situation that couldn't be envied. The one time the casters of the spell are unaffected by the changes to the world, it happens in a world where they'd do better to have some memories of the changes. Well, she couldn't say it was the worst thing a spell has hidden from them, truth be told, but still.

-"Well, what now?", ever the planner, the bird on her shoulder asked the only question that could be asked. He narrowed his eyes and extended his neck a bit from where it was, trying to read some writing underneath the picture. It used to scare Magica  a bit whenever he did that, now she mostly got used to it. Mostly. Stupid bird biology creeping her out. "What are we going to doing to this...Bradford Buzzard?", he squinted a bit, making out the letters. He then turned to their T.V. with a curious motion. "Ma-uh, Mistress, look."

As the green-feathered duck turned her head, she noticed something. They had stolen their T.V. from one of Scroogie's enterprises, mostly out of spite. But their current television had "Buzzard Enterprises" on it. Apparently, this vulture had truly inherited everything the old miser had, including their rage. She felt a slight tingling in her chest, but she ignored it to focus on the more important matters they had at hand now.

-"So, apparently we're struggling to get the dime from this old man?", well, considering they're not rich right now, and that Poe was still a raven, that meant they still had the same problems as they did with Scrooge. Not good, if you ask her.

-"And apparently he, too, managed to turn me into raven.", Ratface spat out, growing very, very bitter. Unsurprising, really; this 'Bradford' did not seem to be able to move much. How did he manage to turn Poe into a raven this time, then? "Besides, are we trying to get his dime? I'm certain not what we were doing in this timeline up to this point, and I don't suppose we've been writing our memoirs to help us out.", he...uh, he joked? Deadpanned? His tone wasn't too amused, by the looks of things. Not that she could blame him, given how things weren't quite going according to plan.

-"You tell me.", the sorceress sighed, not really in the mood for the demoralisation Poe could offer at this time. He didn't mean to be such a pessimist (probably), but his constant remarks didn't do much to improve the mood. Her eyes then spotted a small purple ball on the ingredients' table. It was a small teleportation spell, using some materials from the area where she wanted to go to, it was a nice substitute for those who both lacked the Teleportation branch of magic and didn't have time to travel by broom. "That's it!", she suddenly yelled, getting up and nearly dropping her brother off of her shoulder.

-"W-What's it? What are you-"

-"We'll go pay this Bradford a nice little visit, and we'll see what he's really made of! We already prepared to go to the Bin, what's the worst that could happen?", she encouraged both him and herself, picking up the teleportation spell to Scroogie's bin and another one back to her home, quickly pocketing them in her robe and scavenging for some offensive spells to take with her, alongside her Sumerian amulet, of course. "Do not answer that!", she warned her brother, earning a sceptical look. "Listen, we've seen almost everything from Scroogie, we'll see what we can do this time, and then...well, I don't know, but we'll manage!", she finished triumphantly, quickly putting on her heels and going out of her house, stopping mid-way through her throw of the teleportation spell. "...You're not convinced, are you?"

-"Are you?", well, he wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right, either. Everything deserved a shot. Even if that thing had a very small chance of working. Maybe. Probably. Listen, Magica DeSpell was many things, but she wasn't willing to give up now! She never did, perhaps to her own detriment, but it wasn't this old vulture that was going to stop her now, she fought against Scrooge McDuck, this was barely even a challenge!

-"Could you not rain on my parade for five minutes?", what was a challenge, was keeping Poe positive on this mission.

-"Alright, alright. Here we go, Mistress! Go get that fool!", he put on an enthusiastic façade, making the sorceress grin as she resumed her movement, throwing the spell on the ground with a large 'Bang!'. Aquamarine smoke came out and covered the area where they both stood, and when it was gone, so were the both of them.

Now, it was only a matter of time before they faced Bradford.

Bradford Buzzard was perhaps the single most boring person she'd ever had the displeasure of fighting.

It wasn't that he was difficult to fight against, oh no, in fact, she was surprised he managed to stop them for so long in this timeline, but he always played by the book! Not a single interesting move! He didn't boast, make dramatic moves, or do anything Scroogie did, really. All he did was avoid, dodge, and stand behind his fancy machines. Which...yeah, okay, it wasn't that bad, but he was terribly uninteresting to fight against. The Bin stayed in its regular shape, and so did most of Duckburg, though it had a bit of a fancier design when it came to buildings.

Regardless, Bradford didn't even try to seem interested. He always seemed (and most likely, was) always annoyed, always spiteful, and just...indifferent. He didn't care about anything she and Poe did, he just wanted it to end. His immediate reaction to their arrival wasn't to fight...it was to sigh and complain about how he didn't have time for them. Which wasn't only rude, but incredibly hurtful. He had no idea how much these teleportation spells cost, and she truly did her best to deliver a spectacular entrance to her foes. The least he could do was at least seem interested.

The worst part is that apparently, in this timeline, they had never plainly told him they needed his dime; they were after his fortune. Which she probably realized they did because they wanted a challenge, considering the fact that the moment they asked for the dime, he handed it over.

She was so dumbfounded at first that she thought it to be a prank. A trap, even. But no, apparently Bradford cared just as little about his first dime, talking about how "He can always make a copy." or some such thing. If she didn't know any better, she'd have said he was searching for an opportunity to get rid of it, and yet a quick curse-check from her part revealed no dangers. He was just...boring. And it's not that he was scared of their power, at least that might've made up for something, he just gave them the dime and told them to go off.

So there she was, back in her hut, Lucky Dime in hand, an unbelieving expression across her unfocused eyes as she sat on her television's couch, still trying to reflect on the events of the day, trying to see if she misunderstood a word or a euphemism from the vulture's monotonous voice. She found none.

-"I mean, it's been a while when we saw the Dime last, Mistress.", throughout the long silence, from their unceremonious return to them now sitting, unable to decide what comes next, this was the first thing Poe muttered. It wasn't bad as an encouragement, but it didn't quite catch Magica's attention, either.

-"Mhm.", she mumbled absently, not even opening her beak.

-"Sure, it wasn't as spectacular as we both thought, but that doesn't matter! Do you know what this means, Mistress? Do you know just how much power we have in our hands?!", now, Poe was known for many things following his unfortunate transformation, but optimism was not one of them. That actually made her turn some of her attention to him. "It's the end of the old-centuries rivalry between us DeSpells and the...Mc...Ducks...", he slowly realized, opening his eyes a bit more. It wasn't the fact that they had gotten the Dime so easily which was bothering Magica, it was that she didn't even know if it was worth it.

She spent little under fifty-five years fighting against Scroogie. At some point, both of them knew that there would be no Scrooge without Magica, and there would be no Magica without Scrooge. Every single victory she had in her life was directly or indirectly caused by a desire to earn revenge on Scrooge, he was her greatest goal, and defeating him would be her Magnum Opus. Years upon years of work, blood, tears...all for some vulture to hand this over.

-"...Is the Dime even useful now?", she muttered, her eyes going to Poe, pleading, almost unsure of her every word. He seemed to have gotten the gist of why this victory in particular was unsatisfying, but now he simply blinked at her, not wanting to cause her any grief. "I-I mean, why did we even go after his Dime in particular instead of killing him or...or whatever?", her voice shaky. She knew the answer. She always did. She just had to hear it from someone she could trust.

-"We wanted it because it was Scrooge's the most important coin; it was his first, imbued strong emotional attachment, and we could use that attachment for our magic, alongpart the hate we had for him.", he repeated their goal slowly, trying to get where this was going. "Using the immense power extracted from it, we would do as we pleased. We'd turn me back into a duck, turn stones into gold...its possibilities were endless.", he finished, the massive smile on his beak dropping for a bit.

Bradford had handed them the Dime without a hitch. If he had any attachment to the Dime, then it wasn't enough for him to care about it. This would mean the Dime was useless...it couldn't do them a thing, or if it could, then it was severely weakened. Even if it wasn't, it didn't...it didn't feel as if they earned it. Okay, this was stupid, since they were villains, after all, they weren't about being fair, but after all these years, having such an underwhelming encounter...it just left a sour taste in her mouth.

-"Who gives a flying duck?!", a groggy, loud caw was the answer she got to her suspicions. "So what, we had a disappointing enemy, we have the Dime of the richest du- vulture in the world! So what if it not has emotional attachment, we'll find another object with emotional attachment! Anything would be better than Scrooge!", he yelled, sensing the conflict his sister felt and trying to set the record straight. "Anything would be better than being stuck as a crow."

The speed with which she spun her head to him could perhaps snap many necks, but Magica didn't care for the pain in her neck so much as she focused on the bird on her shoulder. She knew exactly what he was getting at; Poe was stuck as a crow for nearly five years at this point. He never loved his situation for even a second ever since the accident with McDuck and his two ducklings. Throughout these years, he worked with her for the Dime less out of a general desire for villainy and a want to help her, he worked with her because he also wanted the Dime's power.

And now he probably feared she was going to throw all away, just because wanted a 'real' fight.

-"R-Ratface! How dare you suggest I'd do something like that!", she vehemently denied. She then resisted the urge to slap herself because she just admitted to something he was yet to accuse her off. She stared at him, the eye he turned at her undecipherable. He remained silent for a moment before speaking up.

-"Do you want us to talk, Magica?", he offered, and she looked surprised. He seldom called her by her real name, and it was often a sign she could call him by his. She swallowed before nodding, as if the word 'Yes' would take too much energy out of her. He nodded in return, jumping off of her shoulder and landing beside her. "What's the issue, Magica?"

-"It's...It's stupid. I know it is. You wouldn't approve, and I know you taught me that the only good victory is a quick and easy one, but...but...It's just so maddening, you know?", she began, hunching her back and turning her head to him, a twinge of uncertainty in her voice. "I spend all my life hunting Scrooge McDuck, wanting his head on my wall, and when I finally win, I don't even win against him. I don't even know if I got the right object in this world.", she complained, bringing her hands to her face and covering it. Her entire life was built on waiting for this one, singular moment! All of her moves, triumphs and losses. So why wasn't she satisfied?!

-"...I get what you're saying.", the raven replied after a moment, trying to understand her, apparently. "I get it. It feels as if we were robbed of our moment, doesn't it?", her sat down on the couch, trying his best to imitate a regular duck sitting. She hesitated before nodding, almost afraid of his answer. "...I cannot say it doesn't leave an undelicious taste, to be honest. We've worked so hard for this moment. And yet, what other choice do we have? What were you planning on doing? What do we have to gain from a Scrooge in this world?", he questioned, not with a hostile tone, but a rather intrigued one, as if he truly wanted to know more about this situation they found themselves in.

-"I- You know what? Forget it, we'll melt this dime and find the strongest emotional object here-"

-"Answers, Magica.", he firmly repeated, turning his head to her.

-"I don't know!", she yelled out, partly angry, partly anxious. "How should I know? I spent all of my life fighting Scroogie and I'm not even the one to take him out! It's all a stupid spell...And I can't bring him back, because this stupid spell will account for the past, and that means the source of our power, the one in my hand right now, would be gone.", she started laughing out of desperation, holding the Dime up in the air and trying to channel some energy into it. It emitted some energy, sure, but it wasn't as strong as you'd think or want. "And so would any of chance of turning you back to a duck since we'd need the power it grants for a chance at reversing back the irreversible...", she venomously spat out, frowning at her momentary meltdown and at the situation.

Magica DeSpell was known for many things, and losing control of herself was not one of them. It wasn't publicly known, anyways, but this...this mess was a whole new low. They'd failed before, but never before had they gone so horribly right, and they never found themselves in a situation where they had to ponder if bringing back their biggest enemy would be a good idea or not.

-"We could find another McDuck, Magie.", he tried soothing her, reserving his own thoughts for later. "Someone must've made it out there. Be it hero or villain, there must be someone like Scrooge. There have to have been.", he comforted her, trying to his best to rest his arm on her shoulder. Or his wing on her arm, in this case.

-"I know, Poe.", she sighed heavily, leaning a bit onto his arm before quickly rethinking that decision as he struggled against her weight. "But there's no Scrooge McDuck. There's always someone like him, but there's never the Scrooge McDuck.", she bitterly admitted. He was a worthy rival. Many had come and go, and most were able to face her again. Some couldn't continue on living, for that matter. All but Scrooge had fallen to her.

At first, she had only rage and fury for him, but as the years went on, she started to love their fights more and more, her schemes became more and more elaborate, her plans became works of art that she spent more time on than she cared to admit, and she invested so much emotion to her fight against him that seeing him gone in such an anti-climatic way was...depressing, honestly. Scrooge brought out her worst, in a way no one else could, and for that, she (secretly) thanked him; her worst was scarier than her on a rampage, and that didn't just say something, it spoke volumes.

-"So? You'll bring him back? Just because of that?", another caw, this one a bit more inquisitive and pushy. She tried looking the other direction. "Down here are my eyes, Magie.", he pushed her. She looked at him, a twinge of guilt in her eyes.

-"I don't know. We didn't do much in this world, y'know. We can live like this never happened.", she suggested, her voice a mere whisper. One that sounded like a yell in the dead silence in their home. Her brother kept staring, part sympathetic, part...was that sadness in his eyes?

-"Magica,", he began, trying to find his words, "We're villains. We're the worst people on God's green earth, and we care certainly not about who we hurt, maim, and kill. And when you're a villain, you fight against Karma and the universe magically siding with your enemies, not mention having to work with The Evil Overlord List to keep everything in check.", he explained to her, his eyes never leaving her. "It's not about who we're fighting. I just want a world without Scrooge. How bad can whoever replaced him be?", he begged, stopping for a moment before adding, "My freedom could be a battle away."

Well, he was certainly making the choice easy, wasn't he. So? So what? Does she just leave her brother to suffer? The one, and so far, only man to stay with her for all of her life? Just for another rival? She prided herself on being heartless, but this...She didn't know anymore.

What was her happiness anymore? Could she not find happiness without her endless fight with Scroogie? Who was she? Her own independent person, or merely a shadow in Scrooge's massive figure, never to step out from under it? What was her life? An endless chase for a goal which she could only achieve in one way, lest she render it underwhelming for her? She's been building up the moment so much, for so long, and she sacrificed everything to have it. Everyone. Was the chase she started what defined her? Or had Scroogie won without realizing, making her little more than another person swallowed by the ever-greedy monster that was his shadow?

-"I don't...I don't know, Poe.", she hitched, suddenly realizing that this wasn't good for her figure. Not at all. She suppressed any emotional instinct in her body and brought her knees to her chest, resting her head on them. "I don't know what to do anymore. All this chase...All this madness. And I never won.", she closed her eyes, sensing a bit of a stinging sensation and trying to block it. "And when I did, I still lost.", alright, she wasn't going to speak now. Her voice was dangerously close to cracking.

-"You're wrong. You've won several times, and were -still are- Scrooge's most dangerous foe for years. Several set-backs, sure, but all great people have set-backs.", he started brushing his wing against her arm, not really able to pat. She interrupted him before he could speak further.

-"Isn't it funny? The day I win, I can't even be happy. I need Scroogie to be happy. Laughable, isn't it? I'm becoming less and less my own person. Just a planet in a star's orbit. My own shadow is slipping out from under me and becoming his.", she lamented, her hitches a bit more noticeable.

-"Then reign your shadow back in! You're Magica DeSpell, for goodness' sake! Control it, make be it yours!", the raven stood on his two feet, trying his best to be considerate. He was making her happier, sure, but he was not so truthful, was he?

-"...Maybe. I'm...I'm sorry about this Poe. This...idiocy. I guess I'm not as sturdy as I thought myself to be.", she sniffed again, looking at him as he stared back.

-"Nobody is. We all think we're invincible at one point. The only thing that matters is getting back up. Bigger, better, badder.", his voice lowered, and the pure devilishness in it was infectious. She smiled a weak smile, and he returned it in kind. "So, when are we going back to our timeline?", he suddenly questioned, and she opened her eyes wide at his question.

-"You...You're okay with it...?"

-"If I said I was, you'd know I'm lying. But it's not the biggest issue, either. This dime isn't solve my issue anytime soon with its power like that. And we have no real other target at this point. So it wasn't that close to me. I hope.", he explained himself, trying to have an air of dignity before swallowing and continuing, "...Since we're being truthful here, I won't say that this doesn't feels like a wasted opportunity. I've long dreamed of a world without Scrooge, but to tell the truth, someone like Scrooge will probably as be annoying as Scrooge. Probably.", he concluded, some of the sadness in his eyes washing away. He removed his eyes from Magica for a moment, looking at the ceiling.

-"I...And leave you as a crow? Do you have any idea what you're saying?!", she refuted the idea, earning a quick glance. "No, I...I shouldn't...I can't do this! We have to find the closest thing that'll help you! We must!", she started panicking, trying for once to think of him more. He smiled and rubbed her arm again.

-"Primarily, I am a raven. And I thought you were a heartless, selfish villainess? Or do we need to spend more time learning how to be proper villains?", he tried easing her worries away, a teasing tone in his voice for a moment before he cleared it. "Listen, Magica, whatever happens, one of us isn't getting what they want. If we go back to our timeline, there's always a chance we'll get Scrooge. A chance we'll find some other solution. If we stay here, there then won't ever being another McDuck.", he explained to her, his voice calm and collected, trying his best to keep her calm. "And you'd better do it when I'm in a good mood, because I'm sure this will bite my tail sometime later.", he added, deciding that perhaps some pressure is needed.

-"But-"

-"NOW!", he ordered her, and she jumped, surprised from his cry, heading to where she'd first preformed her spell, hastily picking up the Scrooge doll and covering it with more Bougeia Autrepart, setting it on the ground where it once stood.

-"O' sanguina del mon enemmi mortel, repondra O' appels que t'entendra, O' abyssum qu'attend, repond à ma voca!", she repeated the same chanting she said this morning, waiting as the puppet levitated once more and sensing her brother come beside her. "Bring Scrooge McDuck back and reset this timeline on the right track!", she cried out, letting the doll emit sparks once more, the spinning a bit faster than the first time they cast it.

The same suffocating sensation they felt this morning soon filled their house, forcing them to wait as the constant 'zaps' and 'bangs' started whittling down. It wasn't any more pleasant than it was the first time, but at least they anticipated it. A few painful moments later, their breathing regained its regular pace, and their house started becoming more illuminated.

-"...Ugh...", the small black bird on the ground tried holding his head between his hands as he stared immediately at the wall behind him. Yep. Scrooge was back alright. "We really need to find a spell that counters harmful effects from other spells. I don't think I want to keep do this...", he complained, allowing their home to bask in the silence for a moment. Even the air had stopped its continual blow for a moment. A moment of peace wasn't rare when the pair of them were both adults, but the whole 'evil magic' thing didn't also allow for too much peace.

Then there was a sob.

It wasn't a particularly sad sob. Particularly pained, either. It was simply reigned. Defeated. When he turned back, the green-ish duck was still on her knees, her hand covering her eyes, emitting another sob every few moments before interrupting it with a quick chuckle. He gave her the moment; no need to be pushy now. He already knew what was bothering her.

-"I guess...I guess I really am a screw-up...", she mumbled between her hitches. "Fifty years and I cannot get a  dime. Fifty years and I've also grown attached to winning by one single method...I'm hopeless, Poe. Hopeless.", she ended solemnly, not showing her face, afraid of even worse humiliation if she was shedding tears.

-"No."

-"Stop it. You're the best person I could ask for now, but lying won't make me better.", she bitterly refuted, making her hand leave her face as she tried tucking the threads of hair that made their way to her eyes away.

-"Then what will?"

-"I don't know! Winning? Not being a failure? Something along those lines! I've been working my bum off for years, playing off every failure as a learning experience, but it's too much. I've had it. I just want to win for once. Is that too much?", indeed, Magica DeSpell was not known for making such emotional rants, and yet, everyone had moments when they snapped. She just needed to let some steam off. That's all.

-"I meaning, we are villains. Winning isn't really something we do often.", well, he was certainly keeping his realist tendencies. That was fun. "...I don't know Magica. I wish I had some magical answer to tell you, but there really isn't. We're back to square one.", he stated as a matter-of-fact, quickly picking up the pace before she could reply, "But that doesn't matter. You're Magica DeSpell! Sorceress of the Shadows, Empress of Napoli, and my favourite little sister. You'll push through. Somehow, against all possible odds and against your better judgement, you'll rise up again. You always did.", he resumed, an encouraging tone in his voice. He held his had high, looking the sorceress in the eye. She seemed touched.

-"Poe...that was...Absolute malarkey.", she admitted, chuckling with him. "But you know what? I'll take it.", she laughed, opening her arms for a moment as the raven in front of her understood what she wanted and opened his wings. A small moment ensued before she went down and gave her brother a quick hug. A silent one, and those were rare, so he'd better cherish it. because she wasn't planning on giving much more of them. "Alright, that's enough."

-"Aw, and here I thought you were going to showing some more affection to me.", well, it wasn't that she didn't love him, but disregarding the rare outburst of emotion, she never showed much emotion to her brother. He, on the other hand, didn't try to hide it. At least, before the whole raven business. And now she was sad again. She snapped out of her internal thoughts when she noticed he perched himself on the couch, almost as if waiting for her to come closer. "So, what's the plan now, Mistress?"

-"The plan?", oh, right. A plan. A plan to reclaim herself. To try and fight against this feeling of hopelessness. "I'd...I want to try and train my Shadow Magic a bit more. Perhaps having more control over my shadow will make me get in a better place. It can serve me, and it's the most loyal helper I'll probably ever get.", she mumbled, earning a disapproving glance. "Besides you, of course.", she added, and the glance went away. "Besides, shouldn't you be a cold-hearted, uncaring villain? Why do you care whether or not I consider you loyal?"

-"No, I meant the plan to get rid from Scrooge. Or to win over him. Or any other plan.", oh, so that was how it was going to be? Now he was going to ignore her questions. We'll see about that, Mr. Tough Guy. We'll see. She wiped her eyes, making sure there wasn't anything in them.

-"Hey, when did your English improve all of a sudden? And why didn't the cracks show when we faced Bradford? Are you really sure you're just having some difficulties? Because I'm telling you, you won't get on my good side if I figure out you've been messing with me...", well, two could play at that game! She, too, could ignore his questions, although he replied to this particular question with a most satisfying answer: A shrug. One day, she'll kill him. Not today, however.

-"So, plan is being?"

-"Now you're just forcing it.", she rolled her eyes, walking a bit closer to him as a most devilish plan popped into her mind. "You know, I think I have a new plan.", she began, and he immediately became attentive. Or at least, feigned attention. "I'm planning a vacation."

-"A what?", the pure, raw confusion in his voice was priceless. If for nothing else, this plan in particular was already working.

-"A vacation. It is when someone takes a break from a particular work or job.", she dully explained, watching him mutter something under his beak.

-"No, I know that! Just...really? The last vacation we took together was in the seventies. It's an...uh, a strange extremely proposition.", he explained, apparently coming on board of this particular plan. "I guess you finally decided that some relaxation can benefit the both of us. So, where to, Mistress? I think Sardinia would to be very nice.", he suggested, a small list of places they could go to popping up in his mind. It's been a last while since the two of them actually planned a relaxing trip together. Usually they'd just yell at each other before one of them storms away for a few days and relaxes on their own.

-"Actually...I've been thinking about staying here. I mean, look at our home. It needs some work, that's for sure. We have some laundry, and to be truthful, when was the last time we walked around Napoli? Must've been three years at least.", she tried to remember, and he thought about it for a moment before agreeing.

-"You know what? You're right. We'd do better to stay here. Away from McDuck, away from our troubles in life.", there we go, he was starting to see from her perspective. "And our house does look like it hasn't been cleaned since the dawn of time.", well, that wasn't such a great perspective, but it wasn't wrong per say.

-"Alright, consider us on vacation from now on!", she announced, looking around their ancestral home for a moment. "I think we'd best start on cleaning this place up if we want to finish quickly", she stated, and she earned a nod from her brother as he went to a broom nearby. She then remembered something. "And...uh, Poe?"

-"Hm?", huh. He didn't immediately object to her using his name. That was encouraging.

-"Can we...you know, use our names from time to time? Maybe the weekends? Just...sometime when we can be ourselves for while, yeah?", she timidly suggested, trying to decipher his expression. Poe had donned Ratface as his name for a while now, and she knew that he didn't exactly like the name, only keeping it so that nobody recognizes how low he sunk. But she already knew who he was, so it wasn't that big of a deal...right?

-"...Sure, I suppose. Only on weekends though.", his murmured, his voice so low, almost as if he hoped she wouldn't catch it. He knew she did from her relieved expression, though. "Well, don't just stand there. Get in work; grab the mop.", he ordered, turning his head away.

-"Will do, Ratface, will do.", well, if there's one thing that this disastrous spell helped with, it's that it made the rift between them slightly smaller than what it used to be after the raven incident. Slightly.

As she headed off to find the mop, passing by Poe while he tried his earnest to brush the dust away, she couldn't help but reflect on this day. So, another thing to add to the tomes. Another failure, too, but this time, she couldn't help but feel it was self-inflicted.

She was this close. The Lucky Dime was quite literally in her hand -she quickly checked, obviously finding nothing- and she let it go. Why? Was this really the only way she could find her satisfaction, by defeating Scroogie herself? How far was she willing to go? How much more would she have to sacrifice?

Would she even get there?

Perhaps not. However, it was this 'perhaps' that kept her going; Magica hadn't expected Scroogie to be such a persistent opponent, to always be watchful, to always be determined to win, to always be so confident, yet never passing the line that would make many other fall for an over-inflated ego. And yet, he slipped from time to time. She knew that, as a villainess, the world was basically working against her, and yet...there were times where she came so close, she could not actually believe it. But he always bounced back up, striking her and Poe down at the last second.

And yet, she could not imagine any more hollow a victory than what she had today. For all she hated him, Scrooge was such a worthy opponent that anyone else simply could not reach the golden standard which he'd set. The snark, the fighting, the boisterous spirit that just felt so wonderful to crack with a devious plot...It all made her unable to imagine a victory over someone other than him when it came to the Lucky Dime.

The issue was that she feared he became less of a rival, and more of an obsession. Was she truly unable to accept winning over someone else? How much control did she have over this rivalry of theirs, really? She always thought that he'd be living in fear of her, making his every more around her fearsome existence, and yet it appeared she was the one who was losing her mind about him.

So what would she do? Realize she's become in his orbit? Accept it? Try to cut all ties and just stop going to North America altogether? It was all just so maddening...

And yet, the answer she found herself satisfied with was that she had to try harder. She couldn't possibly let Scrooge rob her blind; she was Magica DeSpell! She went so far to get to defeat Scroogie, and she wouldn't simply let go! She'd get better, stronger, more dangerous, and she'd have to balance this out a bit. Scrooge was not the main character of her life; she was. He wasn't going to out-shine her in her own life.

And yeah, the Lucky Dime is essentially her sole goal which she's been working towards, but perhaps trying to regain more control before going after Scrooge again will make her feel more firm about her position. Honestly, it was all so complicated that she couldn't help but feel a bit bad for leaving a Scrooge-less world behind her, but after all, a world without Scrooge McDuck is certainly not the world she was used to. She wouldn't simply leave the world behind her and run away, she'd stand up and get a hold of this situation again. It's what she did before, and what she'll be doing for a long time, or else her name isn't Magica DeSpell.

-"Mistress, what on earth is taking so long?! Have you forgotten what a mop is?!", and her name wouldn't be Magica DeSpell if she stopped doing dramatic monologues and forgetting about her surroundings, either.

-"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming you smart-mouth...", as she picked up the cleaning supplies and headed to where her brother was, she couldn't help but stare at Scrooge's picture, filled with darts.

Perhaps a world without Scroogie would be a world that's less dangerous. A world that's more successful for her. Far easier, too. But she did not care about easy, she cared about the challenge and the victory that followed. For now, she could handle a world with Scroogie. The question was: Could he handle what was coming next?

Oooooh, that was a good one! She had to write that down for her next confrontation with the old miser. Right after they finish their vacation, of course.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #magica de spell #poe de spell #duckverse #My writing #ask #Life crisises and siblings and magic #we have it all

[miss-tc-nova]

Bad Game of Chicken - Xehanort x Fem!Reader Pt 5 Finale

The end of our drama! Hope you enjoyed it. It was fun to write two headstrong-ish characters facing off. Usually I have a shy or generally sweet character to counterbalance the strong personality, but this was fun. 

~~~~~

Part 5: Prisoner’s Dilemma

Two criminals are arrested and told they can betray the other for a lesser sentence. If they both stay silent, there’s a one-year sentence each. If one betrays the other, the first goes free while the other gets a three-year sentence. If both talk, they both get a two-year sentence.

~~~~~

              I couldn’t sleep last night, not with the bombardment of memories and self-depreciative thoughts raining down on me. Having him at my mercy is a drug I probably couldn’t resist given another opportunity, but at the same time, it’s Xehanort: the very person who got me in this mess and is always trying to tear me down. That was a challenge last night and this is a game—but somewhere along the way, it stopped being a game for me. I fell for my own con. And I’m worse off than when I hated him.

              Eyelashes flutter in the blinding light. With a grumble, I roll, waiting for my vision to stop playing games and show me the time on my alarm clock—the broken alarm clock.

              I’ve never gotten ready for class faster in my entire life. In hopes of snatching anything for breakfast before class starts, I race into the cafeteria. My timing is terrible as a member of staff is exiting at the same time with a very hot cup of coffee. Apologies spew from my mouth while the drink soaks my arm, scalding as it drips. Food becomes no longer worth my time when the bell rings. I hear the staff member call me back but class has started.

              Lungs are set to burst and my heart is painfully sprinting by the time I barge into the classroom. Everyone is there, staring at me like a wild animal entered instead of a classmate.

              “You’re late,” Master Odin states sternly. “We were worried that you were sick.”

              “I’m sorry, Master,” I reply, bowing deeply. The muscles in my arm spasm from the sting.

              “What happened?”

              “…I slept in.”

              “Yes, but what happened to your arm?”

              Coffee stains the fabric of my sleeve, some dried along my hand, masking some of the raw skin. “An accident—I bumped into someone and they spilled coffee on me. It was my fault.”

              “Even so, you should go to the infirmary and have them take a look at it.” He gives me no chance to protest. “Go on.”

              “Yes Master.”

              So I slump my way to the infirmary where they clean and wrap the burn. By the time they’ve finished with me, I’ve missed the first segment of class. A variety of expressions are given as I reenter the class.

              Coming to class today was useless other than the attendance. I can’t focus, still plagued by worries and revelations. It doesn’t help that I’m staring at the back of his head during lectures and avoiding his gaze during work. I don’t want to talk to him right now; I know he’s just going to try to pry what happened from me and I don’t want to deal with that right now.

              Somehow, I manage to decently play off all the distress; when it finally does come down to interacting with the boy he doesn’t seem to suspect a thing—the game’s still on. Still, I let him know Urd is going to let me join her study group to help me better understand the material I missed. My information is casually accepted and we part ways after class.

              Studying goes about as well as one might expect of an internally dysfunctional person. Even just sitting here, it’s almost as if a seething guilt is seeping through me. It’s a competition between two people who despise each other but, here I am, happy and content in a relationship with my arch enemy who could never return those feelings. Oh and the pain that shoots through my heart at the thought that every nice thing he does is all just a strategy to win this stupid thing is unbearable. Gods, it dwarfs the broken bones and concussions I’ve received from keyblade training. I knew better than to agree to this game.

              Apparently, my anxiety shows as Urd slams her book shut and announces, “Alright, that’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Everyone is surprised but I tense when she turns on me. “What happened?”

              My response doesn’t come easy. “I-Wh-What? What are you talking about?”

              An accusing finger juts out at me. “Last month you and Xehanort were prepared to push each other off a cliff and then suddenly you two are still at each other’s throats but holding hands and going on dates?!”

              “Urd,” Hermod hisses. “That’s none of our business.”

              “They’re our friends! Look at her—she’s miserable! Of course it’s our business!” She’s got me dumbfounded. “Sure they seemed happy for like three weeks but clearly it’s not working out anymore!”

              Bragi interjects, “What did you expect from two people who hated each other? Though I don’t think I’ve ever seen Xehanort as upset as when he brought her back with that black eye.”

              I don’t like how they’re talking about us as if I’m not here. Urd turns back on me and I take it back: I wish they’d pretend I wasn’t here. “So? What’s going on?”

              “I…” The beating in my ears is deafening and that ache in my chest is running rampant. “I gotta go.”

              Hastily sweeping my books into my bag, I leave the trio behind. On my way out, I hear Bragi. “Good going, Urd. They’re probably in the middle of a break up.”

              But we were never actually together… The thought taunts me all the way back to my room. This is stupid. They don’t even know what they’re talking about. This is all just a stupid game that I never should’ve agreed to. And why is he so damn good at it?! Gods, how could I let myself screw up like this?! How could I fall for him?!

              Locked away in my room, I try to sort out this drama I’ve built up around myself. Hours pass in the emotional agony of reminding myself that this is a game made so one of us could embarrass the other—so he could embarrass me. We’re still adversaries; we’ve always been adversaries. For not a single moment of this last month have we been anything more than players in this bad game of chicken.

              An interruption comes just as it’s getting dark out.

              The knock is startling, causing me to kick my desk chair. Not another muscle moves in hopes that my mistake wasn’t loud enough.

              I was wrong and my boyfriend calls out, “I can hear you in there, doll. Let me in.”

              Dammit. “Go away.”

              “If you don’t open this door, I’m gonna kick it in.”

              “Xehanort—”

              “One.” Shit. “Two.” He means it. “Thr—”

              I tear the door open before I lose the privilege of having one. By the front of his clothes, he gets pulled inside and the room slams closed again. Facing him becomes a problem; I don’t want to reveal the distress I’ve been wallowing in since I last saw him.

              “Alright, spill it,” he orders. “What’s the matter with you?”

              An automatic response slips from my mouth. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

              “Then look at me.” I don’t. “Geeze, you’re a pain. Tell me what’s wrong.”

              There’s no answer for him—at least not one that I want to give. Rubbing at my eyes, I turn back. “I said nothing. Did you need me for something?” He needs to go ASAP.

              Brows knit together but that look of pity burns in my stomach. “Yeah, that doesn’t matter anymore. Why are you crying?”

              Fists curl so tightly nails dig into my palms in an attempt to remain in control. “Didn’t you hear me? I said it was nothing. So if you don’t need me for anything, get out,” I order.

              Arms fold, signaling his stubborn mode. “Nuh uh. That’s not how this works. Tell me what’s wrong.” Teeth grit together to hold in my tribulations. “C’mere.”

              He reaches for me, but I swat his hand aside. “Don’t touch me!”

              “Then tell me why you’re upset.”

              “No! Leave me alone!” If he keeps pushing, I’m going to break and I’m not prepared for that.

              Xehanort does indeed push, but not in the way I expect. Up against the corner, he’s got me pinned, planning to keep me here until I talk.

              “Get off me!” Gods, the tears are not helping my case.

               “You listen to me—as long as we’re dating, there are no secrets. You got that?” I glare in defiance yet he doesn’t relent. “Do you hear me? Not from you and not from me.”

              This game has come to a head—I’m done playing.

              “FINE!” I roar. All the force I can muster goes into shoving him off me, nearly toppling the man. “I QUIT!”

              That’s clearly not what he was anticipating. “What?”

              “I DON’T WANNA PLAY YOUR STUPID GAME ANYMORE!” Oh, I wasn’t even close to prepared for this level of breakdown: the tears are free, I’m going to ruin my voice, and I may collapse if my knees continue to rattle. “DO YOU HEAR ME?! I GIVE UP! YOU WIN!”

              In all the time I’ve known him, I’ve yelled at Xehanort, insulted him, ignored him, and even attacked him, but this appears to be a new level for him.

              Storming towards him, I jerk him towards the door. “Now GET! OUT!”

              Xe prevents himself from being shoved out but doesn’t look back. “Why?”

              “I don’t have to justify my reasons to you!” I snap. “I don’t want to play this stupid game anymore! You win; isn’t that enough for you?!”

              His response doesn’t come immediately. “No.”

              That strikes hesitation in me. Shaking it off, I shove towards the door once again. “Well I don’t care! It’s over! Get out!”

              Again, he resists me. “No—not until you tell me why you’re quitting.”

              “I. Don’t. Want. To. Play! That’s all the reason I need!” So much for ASAP—my willpower is deteriorating and I’ll probably have my breakdown in full view of the last person I wanted to see.

              When he takes my face to force my gaze, his grip is almost painful. Teeth bare as he snarls, “Fine! Then tell me why you don’t want to play!”

              For the second time, I shove him off me. “BECAUSE IT’S NOT A GAME TO ME ANYMORE!”

              That’s it—I’m done. I’m broken. I may never be able to face him again; I can’t even bare to look at him now. Knees hit the floor and fists futilely attempt to keep the devastation contained. Anger and heartbreak are both equal culprits in my sobbing and I just can’t believe I let myself fall this far.

              Before I completely comprehend what’s happening, my hands are pried away from my face. The next second surprises me—those unforgettable lips press against mine, full of a different kind of emotion than last night. I don’t know what to think or how to feel, so I just let it happen.

              Leaning back, Xe passes a thumb across my cheek. A soft adoration plays on his face—something unseen before but much needed to mend my self-battered heart.

              “Good.” Hatred and sorrow begin melting, creating more tears. “I was starting to think you always kiss like that in games like this—not that it stopped me from wishing I was the only one you kissed like that.” The exhale is shaky with relief. Arms pull me in, fingers trailing through my hair. “Stop crying. I’m not going anywhere, you big crybaby.”

              A month ago, I would’ve glared daggers or even spat back my own insult, but now I know it’s just an attempt to lighten the mood.

              A breathy laugh escapes me. “I hate you so much.”

              “Just wait until I pay you back for this hickey.”

#xehanort #xehanort x reader #young xehanort x reader #young xehanort #young master xehanort #ymx #fem!reader

[flowercrown-bard]

This is the secret santa gift for @yarpfish. thanks @thewitchersecretsanta for organizing this.

content warning: Christmas. I get that for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, it can be annoying to have the holiday shoved in their faces.

summary: Geralt really doesn’t want to play Santa for the primary school, unlike Jaskier, who may or may not be a bit angry that this handsom stranger got the part. And if they have to meet again to discuss Geralt’s audacity, well neither of them is going to complain.

Read on AO3

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Geralt stared at the text he had just gotten from his ex. Somewhere behind him, Lambert snorted und suddenly things made much more sense. Not complete sense, but at least he now knew whom to blame.

Geralt glared at Lambert. “Care to explain why Yen just send me a text saying Get the costume ready?” The days when he had worn costumes for Yennefer were long past.

“That, dear brother, means that you are going to be Santa. At the primary school.” Lambert barely managed to get the words out before his own laughter cut him short. “Oh you are going to look great! You already have the white hair. Now all you need it – “

“I need fuck all,” Geralt growled. “I am not going to play Santa.”

--

Yennefer looked up at Geralt from where she was sitting at her desk with not a hint of surprise, but abundance of smug amusement.

Geralt had all but stormed into her office past the young man who had just left it, looking crestfallen. Geralt didn’t care. He didn’t have time to think about some young father who had seen the principal of the primary school to complain about his child’s bad grades or whatever it was the man had been doing. Geralt had far more important things to care about. Like telling Yennefer that he was absolutely not going to dress up as Santa Clause and give gifts and sweets to the students.

“And why not?” Yennefer asked, one eyebrow lifted and her lips in a smirk.

Geralt huffed. “Are you serious, Yen? The real question is, why the hell would anyone think it would be a good idea to have me dress up and make an idiot of myself.”

“Lambert made some really good arguments.”

“Like?”

“Like it would be hilarious.” She ignored Geralt’s growl, suddenly turning serious. “And it would make Ciri happy.”

Geralt deflated. Fuck. Of course, Yen had to pull out the big guns and talk about Ciri. Christmas had always been her favourite time of the year and ever since she had found out that there would be a Santa coming to the school before the holidays, she had been adorably exited.

Geralt sighed.

“I really don’t want to do this.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But fine. I’ll think about it.”

“You better do. If you decide to chicken out, I will have to accept the only other guy who volunteered-“

“I didn’t volunteer. Lambert dragged me into this mess.”

“- and he is an overexcited idiot. I’d rather dress up myself than have him in my office again.”

Geralt sighed and left the principal’s office. He had barely closed the doors behind him, when a shout made him turn around.

“YOU!” Geralt furrowed his eyes at the man stomping over to him, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at him, as if accusing him of a heinous crime. “How dare you!”

“Do I know you?” Geralt asked, suddenly unsure.

“I am Jaskier. And you, Sir, are the reason why all my hopes and dreams are crushed.”

Geralt blinked at him, dumbfounded. “I think you have me confused with someone else.” Looking more closely, he kind of looked like the man he had just brushed aside to enter the office. That had been rude, sure, but it didn’t classify as ruining someone’s dreams.

“Oh do I?” Jaskier came even closer, blue eyes flashing dangerously. “Then you aren’t the one that principal Vengerberg just told me about when she said they already had a better candidate for the –“ he looked around, scanning the halls for any passing students, before he whispered “ for the Santa actor.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shot up. That was what this is about? That man had jabbed a finger at a stranger’s chest because he didn’t get to dress up as Santa? Slowly but surely, Geralt started to understand what Yennefer had meant when she had said that the other volunteer was overexcited. He certainly was passionate, judging from the way his eyes were blazing and his chest was heaving. But Geralt wouldn’t exactly call him an idiot for it. His passion for dressing up as an old man with a beard was certainly strange. It was amusing. But for some reason it was also oddly charming. Especially because Jaskier seemed to do his best not to appear charming. If anything, it looked like he wanted to intimidated him. Geralt’s lips quirked up.

“Oh, don’t go smiling like that.” Jaskier said, angrily brushing his brown fringe out of his eyes. “I am clearly the better choice here. I mean look at you…”

He trailed off, taking his time to follow his own advice. Geralt felt strangely insecure under his scrutiny. Still, he felt disappointed for some reason when Jaskier looked back up again.

“Well, I mean… you…” Jaskier stumbled over his words. His tongue darted over his lips and Geralt had to force himself not to let his eyes linger.

Jaskier’s stuttering was interrupted by the sound of children running through the halls. Immediately, Jaskier shut up and Geralt found himself almost missing the sound of him searching for the right words.

Once the kids were gone, Jaskier relaxed slightly. He sighed, but his eyes were still narrowed at Geralt.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this with children around. Wouldn’t want to ruin any dreams of Santa.”

Geralt hummed in agreement. “So, should we go somewhere else?”

Jaskier looked away. “Oh, like, you mean right now?” He started to fidget. “I don’t really have much time.” He let out a tiny laugh. “To be honest, I thought I could just berate you a bit and you would relent.”

Geralt’s half smile turned into a full on smirk. “That’s the Christmas spirit.”

That laugh escaped Jaskier again, louder and more sincere this time and something in Geralt’s chest started to glow. He wished he could hear that sound again. “Of course,” Jaskier said. “You have to get past the masses in the stores somehow. It’s fight or go home without having bought presents for your loved ones.” He stopped himself and knitted his brows, as if he was berating himself for saying that. Geralt supposed it was a bit strange talking like this with someone he had just yelled at. But he found himself wanting to hear more about Jaskier’s fight to buy presents. Or about anything really.

He hesitated. “Maybe we could meet some other time?” His smirk widened. “So you can yell at me for crushing your dreams some more?”

Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck, lowering his eyes. “Ah, yes, sorry about that. I guess I was just really disappointed. Still am, to be honest.” For a moment, his smile faltered, before it came back full force. “But sure, let’s discuss this later. I promise I won’t yell at you then.” He thought for a second. “How does Saturday sound? At 5 pm? That’s when the Christmas market will begin and I’ve been waiting to go for months.”

Geralt nodded and tried his best not to let the warmth spread through him at the thought that Jaskier – who was still practically a stranger, as he would do well to remember – wanted to spend time with him at a place he was excited about.

“Great!” Jaskier beamed at him. He looked like he was ready to leave, when he halted. “I forgot to ask your name.” His smile turned mischievous and he winked at Geralt, as if he wasn’t already flustered enough. “I think I should know the name of the man who is crushing my dreams, don’t you?”

Geralt could just tell Jaskier the truth. That he didn’t even really want to play Santa. That Jaskier could have that honour all to himself. He could just turn around, go back into Yen’s office and announce that he had made his decision. And yet… that would mean that this would be the end of his short acquaintance with Jaskier.

“Geralt.”

“Well then, Geralt. See you on Saturday.”

--

Geralt was late. He cursed himself for not thinking about the traffic. Of course everyone would rush to get to the opening of the Christmas market.

He weaved his way through the crowd, doing his best to spot a mop of brown hair or catch a glimpse of blue eyes. It was practically impossible. He was searching for ten minutes already. This was useless, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn around and leave.

He was just about to give up, when a shout reached his ears.

“Geralt!”

He whirled around, embarrassingly quickly. And there he stood. Squeezed between couples and exasperated parents running after their kids was Jaskier. He was beaming at Geralt, making his heart skip a beat.

Geralt should probably go towards him, but he was frozen to the spot. He could only watch, as Jaskier scrambled through the crowd until he was finally standing before him. His cheeks were red from the cold, he wore a cosy looking scarf and a beanie that hid almost all of his hair.

“So that’s why I couldn’t find you.” The words slipped out of Geralt’s mouth before he could think about how stupid they sounded. When Jaskier cocked his head to the side with a questioning look, Geralt could feel the heat rise into his cheeks. Gesturing vaguely towards Jaskier’s head he added: “The beanie. I was looking for your hair.”

Jaskier laughed, loudly and unashamed, but it didn’t sound like he was laughing at Geralt.

“And here I was thinking you wouldn’t show. Not that I could have blamed you,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I guess I didn’t make the best first impression.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Geralt hesitated. “You were…memorable.”

Geralt should probably just keep his mouth shut. All that left it was dumb. But the way Jaskier’s eyes lit up made it worth it.

“You’re pretty memorable too. Anyway – “Jaskier shoved something at him. More out of surprise than anything, Geralt took the mug. “I’m glad you showed up, or I would have been forced to drink two mugs of mulled wine. Oh, what a tragedy that would have been!” A moment later, he left the overdramatic tone behind and became sincere again. “But really, I’m glad you came.”

Jaskier lifted his mug to his lips and took a swig. Geralt could have sworn, he was trying to hide an embarrassed expression by doing so, but then his breath hitched when Jaskier’s tongue darted out to catch a droplet that clung to his lips and all other thoughts left him.

Someone shoved Jaskier from behind and he almost toppled over. Without thinking, Geralt stepped forward and caught him by the arm.

“Oh.” Jaskier lifted his head, looking up at Geralt in surprise. For a brief moment they just held each other’s gazes, before Jaskier cleared his throat. “Ah, thank you.”

He moved back and Geralt reluctantly let go of him.

“We should probably start moving. I don’t think people appreciate us blocking the way.”

“Good call.”

Jaskier all but dragged him to the nearest stall. Geralt didn’t pay attention to the wares. He was too distracted looking at Jaskier, the excitement evident in his eyes.

“What do you think, Geralt? It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Cute.” Geralt shook his head, forcing himself to look at the key chain Jaskier was holding. It was a tiny white cuddly toy wolf.

“It’s you.”

Geralt’s brows shot up.

A blush rose in Jaskier’s cheeks. Or maybe that was just the alcohol mixing with the cold.

“Ah, you know… because of the white hair – I don’t mean that in an offensive way, it looks really good, actually. And I don’t know if you notice, but you see, you keep growling and I just kind of… you know what, forget I said anything.” He put the key chain back.

Something about the way Jaskier’s eyes were downcast and his brows furrowed didn’t sit right with Geralt. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe it was just to see Jaskier smile, but Geralt plastered what he hoped was a teasing grin across his face.

“Do you think I’m cute too?”

Jaskier just stared at him for a second, the red in his face now unmistakably a flush. Shit, Geralt should not have said that. He was just about to play it off as a joke, when Jaskier sent him a mischievous wink. And didn’t say anything.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? You couldn’t just wink at someone and then not say anything! Maybe it hadn’t even been a wink. Maybe he had just blinked. With one eye. Surely, that’s something people did occasionally.

Before Geralt had come to a conclusion, Jaskier had already moved on to the next stall. Geralt stayed close behind him, telling himself that it was only so he wouldn’t lose Jaskier in the crowd. If their hands brushed together, then that was purely coincidentally.

Geralt couldn’t help the tiny smile, when Jaskier bought a Santa hat and put it on instead of his beanie. He spread his arms – as much as he could in the tiny space he had – and twirled around.

“How do I look?” He asked with a grin.

Geralt’s mouth went dry. Beautiful. Jaskier’s boyish smile made his heart race in his chest and the soft light from the Christmas decorations made Jaskier’s skin glow.

But then it hit him like a train, the reason why they were here. It wasn’t because Jaskier liked him, as much as it felt like they were friends. “You look like it was your dream to wear a Santa costume, for whatever reason.”

Jaskier’s smile fell a little and Geralt mentally cursed himself. He couldn’t have just let Jaskier enjoy himself. He just had to bring up the reason why they were here. He held his breath, hoping that Jaskier wouldn’t take the obvious hint and explain himself. Once this talk was over, there would be no more reason for them to spend time together.

“Ah, this is a rather fitting moment to talk about that, isn’t it?” He hesitated for a moment, before taking another sip of his drink. “Can we maybe keep walking while we talk? I don’t really like standing and facing you while I tell you my sob story. It’s kind of awkward.”

Geralt scowled, but did as Jaskier asked. “Is it a sob story? You don’t have to tell me, if it’s uncomfortable for you.” Just his luck to bring up something that took Jaskier’s joy away from something he had been looking forward to.

“Oh, no, don’t worry.” Jaskier let out a tiny laugh. “It’s not that bad. Honestly, I don’t know why I make such a big deal out of it. My parents… they weren’t exactly the loving kind. It’s fine that we didn’t celebrate Christmas, I know a lot of people don’t and that’s cool. But as a child for me, it was kind of hard to see how the other kids would get presents and go to the markets and all that. And they got to believe in Santa.” He huffed. “My parents obviously never told me about Santa and I still feel like I missed out on a huge part of that childhood experience. Except for when the guy dressed up as Santa came to our school and gave us chocolates and whatnot. I knew Santa wasn’t real, but for this one day, I felt like I was allowed to be a child.” He looked down, clutching his mug with both hands, as if it was protecting him from something. “I still don’t celebrate Christmas. I would love to. But all of my friends are visiting their parents over the holidays and heaven knows I’d rather spend time on a Christmas market with a stranger I yelled at, than going back home.” He cracked a small smile and suddenly he looked so unbearably vulnerable.  “So, thanks for being that stranger saving me from spending this time alone. I know it sounds silly, but I want to be that person for someone else. I want to be that stranger that makes others happy, even if only for a few minutes, even if it is just by me dressing up as Santa for some kids who need it.”

He avoided Geralt’s eyes and something dropped in his stomach.

“It doesn’t sound silly.” There was so much more he wanted to say, but it all sounded too personal, so he hoped that that was enough.

Jaskier glanced at him and quirked a smile. “Thanks.”

Geralt didn’t know what else to say, so they just continued walking in silence. Well, almost in silence. It took him a while to realise, but as the tension left Jaskier’s shoulders, he started humming. Geralt vaguely recognised the Christmas carols, but he was too fixated on his voice. It sounded nice. Beautiful actually, even though it was little more than a faint melody almost drowned out in the shouting of the masses around them. He wanted to say something, compliment his voice, ask him to sing louder, but there was a tiny fear holding him back. Maybe Jaskier didn’t even realise he was singing. Maybe it was just something he did when he was comfortable and happy – god, Geralt hoped that Jaskier was happy around him – and calling attention to his humming might make him stop. So he just contented himself to listening to the humming, only interrupted whenever Jaskier took a sip of his mulled wine.

“Ah, bollocks,” Jaskier said quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just – “ Jaskier shrugged sheepishly. “I probably shouldn’t have finished the wine that quickly. The mug was the only thing keeping my hands warm.”

An unbidden urge overcame Geralt, to reach out and hold Jaskier’s hands, warming them with his own. He fought the urge down. It was stupid. Jaskier wouldn’t want that.

Instead Geralt grunted “Stay here.”

He didn’t wait for Jaskier’s response before going back a few stalls. When he came back, Jaskier was giving him a confused look, which changed completely when Geralt thrust out what he was holding in his hands. The smile that split Jaskier’s face was enough to warm Geralt against the cold winter air.

“Geralt, you didn’t!” There was something strange in his voice, something Geralt couldn’t quite name. He hoped it was something good.

“Just take them. I can’t have you freeze your fingers off.”

“I really can’t – “

“Call it a premature Christmas gift.”

Hesitating, Jaskier put on the gloves that had yellow flowers embroidered. For a moment Jaskier just looked at them, his eyes shining.

“You really are trying to convince me that you would be the better Santa, aren’t you?”

“I… that’s not…” Geralt stuttered, his heart clenching uncomfortably.

Jaskier laughed and shoved his arm playfully. Geralt’s heart skipped a beat, when Jaskier didn’t pull away, but let his hand linger on Geralt’s arm.

“I’m just joking.” He tilted his head. “But I am rather intrigued as to why you would want to play Santa for a primary school.”

Geralt grumbled, suddenly unsure what to say. He had known it would come to this eventually, but after what Jaskier had just told him, he felt bad admitting that it wasn’t really his own idea to do this.

“Come on.” Jaskier tugged at his arm.

Geralt growled.

“Oh hoho, my white wolf, you are not getting away with growling at me like this. I told you my story, now you tell me yours.”

Geralt froze. He didn’t know what to focus on here. The fact that Jaskier obviously wouldn’t relent? The way that Jaskier already had a Santa laugh, and an adorable one at that? Or the fact that Jaskier had just called him a white wolf. His white wolf. While his head was still processing all of that, his heart had already decided to latch onto that last detail, replaying the words over and over in his mind.

He made the mistake of looking at Jaskier. His blue eyes looked so curious, so honestly interested in what he had to say.

“It was my brother Lambert’s idea.” For a brief moment he contemplated leaving it at that, but then he remembered Yennefer’s words. “But really, I am doing it for my daughter. She has a difficult time in school and Yennefer – “ Did he imagine the sudden closed off lock in Jaskier’s eyes? “- my ex-wife, says that it would make her happy.” His voice grew softer. “And I think so too. I love Ciri and I know she loves me too, but sometimes I just have a hard time bonding with her. I don’t know what a girl her age likes to do. She likes when I take her to see my horse and she enjoys play fighting with me, but apart from that. I just don’t know if I am enough for her. I never planned on being a single dad. And Yennefer is right. Ciri loves Christmas.” He smiled weakly. “I think she might be the only person I know whose enthusiasm rivals yours.”

When he risked a side glance, he noticed how strangely quiet Jaskier was.

Fuck. He shouldn’t have said that. Just because Jaskier had told him of his parents didn’t mean he had to go and tell him about his worries about his own family.

He felt Jaskier’s hand slip from his arm and his heart sank. Of course he would fuck this up. He couldn’t just let Jaskier have a nice evening at the Christmas market.

But then Jaskier’s hand found his and squeezed carefully.

“I think you’re doing a great job. I’m sure you are a great dad. Look at you, talking about your little girl like she is the most precious thing in the world.”

“She is.”

“And I’m sure she knows you love her. Making children happy. That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” Jaskier bit his lip. “I’m sure you’ll be a great Santa.” Something in his tone changed, took on a cheery note that didn’t sound quite right. “I mean look at you. You’re definitely going to be less exhausted from carrying the bag of presents than I would be, what with all your muscles.”

He poked Geralt’s arm with the hand still holding the empty mug, giving him a lopsided grin, that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Still, he sounded sincere when he said “It’s alright, Geralt. I can do it next year. You go make your daughter happy, will you?”

Jaskier hesitated for a heartbeat. Then he brushed his lips against Geralt’s cheek, quickly, a barely- there touch that set Geralt’s skin aflame, before slipping his hand free from Geralt’s and disappearing into the crowd.

--

“Yen, please.”

For the first time since Geralt had stomped into her office fifteen minutes ago, she looked at him. Really looked at him.

Geralt knew he was treading on thin ice. He knew that it was almost impossible to change Yennefer’s mind, especially if it was about a man she had no patience left for. But this was important. To Jaskier. Which meant it was also important to Geralt, for whichever reason.

He held his breath as he watched Yennefer contemplate what he had proposed. Something changed in her expression and a smirk stole onto her lips.

With a sigh, she finally nodded.

--

The beard was itching and Geralt was sweating under the Santa costume. He knew he looked ridiculous. When Lambert had seen him put on the costume, he had been unable to stop laughing – which was a blessing, since his laughing fits were the only thing keeping him from getting a good picture of Geralt in this ridiculous get up.

But it was good enough for the children. As Geralt asked them if they had been good kids this year, Ciri smiled at him. And when he turned and asked his elf-assistant to hand out the sweets, Jaskier’s whole face lit up. And somehow, returning the children’s smiles and relaxing came easy for him, when he knew he just had to look to the side to see that smile.

When Geralt stepped back and let Jaskier – wearing elf ears and ridiculously colourful tights and still somehow looking like the prettiest person Geralt had ever seen – sing carols with the children, his heart melted.

If anyone had told Geralt that he would long for time to slow down, while he was wearing this ridiculous costume, he would have laughed. But now the clocks all seemed to tick faster than normal, too fast, and before he knew it, his bag was empty and he was standing next to Jaskier just outside the school’s line of sight.

For a while they just stood there awkwardly, neither of them knowing what to say.

Finally, Jaskier broke the silence.

“Thank you, Geralt.” He sounded almost hesitant, but his voice is thick with emotion. “Really. I didn’t think Vengerberg would let me be a part of this and after what you had said at the market, I was so ready to just step back but then…” He looked down and Geralt’s heart dropped when he heard Jaskier sniffle and do his best to inconspicuously wipe away a stray tear. “then I got that call from her and I just… I can’t thank you enough.”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. “It’s nothing.”

Jaskier looked back up, his brows knitted together and a disbelieving smile on his lips. “Nothing? Geralt it’s everything! You made sure that I finally got to do what I had wanted to do since I was a kid!”

“You didn’t get to play Santa.”

“No,” Jaskier said. “But that’s not what it’s about. It’s about making others happy. And damn it, Geralt, you just keep making me so incredibly happy. Doing this with you was so much better than being Santa on my own.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say, so instead he just hummed and hoped it would be enough, that Jaskier would understand what he wasn’t able to put into words.

“Can I… this is going to sound stupid and you can absolutely say no, but-“ Jaskier wet his lips with his tongue, looking nervous suddenly. “Can I hug you?”

Geralt’s heart sped up. His mouth went dry. His mind had no say, as he opened his arms.

Jaskier lit up like a beacon, before rushing to embrace Geralt. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him close.

Geralt wasn’t sure if he actually heard the muffled “Thank you” against his chest. His heart was beating far too loud and the only thing he could focus on was the feeling of Jaskier in his arms. It felt right somehow. He never wanted this hug to end.

His breath hitched when Jaskier snuggled even closer and –

“Oh gods, this is terrible.” Jaskier coughed, mixed in with laughter.

Geralt’s heart plummeted, when Jaskier drew back, still coughing.

“Are you alright?” It wasn’t what he wanted to ask, but it was better than Was being close to me that bad? Did I overstep by hugging you back? Did I fuck up again?

Jaskier let out another laugh, which was cut short by a cough.

“Sure, I just –“ He lifted his hand, pulling something from his mouth. “I may or may not have breathed in your beard. As adorable as it looks, it doesn’t taste very good. God, there is so much hair in my mouth.”

He spluttered, and scrunched his nose up in what Geralt could only describe as adorable. No man had the right to look that beautiful while wearing elf-ears and coughing up hair.

“I should take it off,” Geralt said, lifting his hands to finally take the itching thing off.

“No wait!” He was stopped by Jaskier’s hand on his. “I need to take a picture of us! I want to have something to remember this by.”

Geralt didn’t fight when Jaskier pulled out his phone. He even smiled – really smiled – when he saw himself next to Jaskier on the screen. They both looked stupid in their costumes and Geralt wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jaskier put the phone away and the uncomfortable silence came back.  

This was it. Every moment now Jaskier would turn around and leave and this would be the end of their short acquaintance.

Geralt should say something. Everything in him screamed to say something, anything, to make Jaskier stay a little longer. This was the perfect opportunity. He could give Jaskier his number under the pretence of being send the picture.

But the moment passed. Jaskier gave him a half-smile. He waved as he turned around and left Geralt standing in a Santa costume on his own. He had missed his chance.

--

Christmas eve was always wonderful for Geralt. It was true, his small family was chaotic and he and Lambert would bicker about anything, while Ciri and Eskel laughed at them and Vesemir grumbled something while shaking his head fondly. The Christmas tree might have the strangest decoration, due to all of them having vastly different tastes – Lambert insisted on the tackiest decoration, just for shits and giggles – and the food wasn’t very festive. Geralt wouldn’t have it any other way. It was family. It was home.

The ringing of the bell ripped Geralt out of his thoughts.

“I’ll go,” Ciri piped up and left the room to open the door.

A minute or so passed, before Geralt heard her shout from the entrance.

“Dad, can you come, please?” A pause and then added with a giggle, “It’s Santa.”

It wasn’t unusual. Around Christmastime there would always be a few people dressing up and visiting houses. Most of them expected money in return for singing some carols.

Geralt was already fishing for some cash from his wallet, as he walked up to the front door, without looking up at the Santa standing there.

As soon as he got there, Ciri dashed past him, back to the others.

“Hello, Geralt.”

His head snapped up. It couldn’t be. But there he was, leaning against the doorframe with a lopsided smile on his face and wearing the Santa hat he had bought at the Christmas market. Where the hat didn’t cover him, a few stray snowflakes covered his hair.

Jaskier was the last person he had expected to show up on his doorstep today – or ever. The small part of him that wasn’t occupied with how radiating Jaskier looked, had a hard time comprehending that he was really here.

And so the first thing he said to the most beautiful man he thought he’d never see again was as smooth as sandpaper.

“How the fuck did you find my house?”

Geralt winced as soon as the words had left him. That was the stupidest thing he could have said. The last thing he had wanted to do was make Jaskier feel like he wasn’t welcome.

But Jaskier snorted. “I asked Yennefer. It was terrifying.” With a cheeky wink he added, “but absolutely worth it, if only for the warm welcome I received from you.”

“I… ah. Fuck.” Jaskier’s smile widened as he watched Geralt stumble over what to say. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too.” Jaskier hesitated for a second, his hands rubbing together nervously. Something warm and fuzzy swelled in Geralt’s chest.

“You’re wearing the gloves,” he said without thinking, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “The ones I bought you.”

Jaskier startled. “Oh, yeah. Of course! They are my favourite; they are just so soft. Do you want to feel?”

Geralt nodded automatically. He would agree to anything, if it meant Jaskier would stay here a little longer, before realising that he had absolutely no good reason to be here and left. Geralt expected Jaskier to pull off one glove and hand it to Geralt. Instead, Jaskier took a step closer to him and reached for his cheek. Geralt didn’t dare breathe, as Jaskier caressed him. Despite the cloth preventing their skin from touching, it felt like Geralt was on fire where they touched. He prayed Jaskier didn’t notice him leaning into the touch.

It was over far too quickly.

“Well?”

Geralt swallowed. “It felt nice. The glove, I mean. It’s… it’s nice.”

“Yeah…” Jaskier cleared his throat. “In fact it’s so nice that I figured I should give you something in return.”

Geralt drew back. “You don’t – Jaskier, I didn’t give them to you because I wanted anything in return. You were just cold and I thought…. I won’t take your money.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Good thing I don’t want to give you money then.” He reached inside the pocket of his jacket and brought forth a small present, holding it out for Geralt. “Merry Christmas.”

Geralt barely registered the uncertain look on his face. His heart was too preoccupied pounding in his chest.

“It’s not much. And the packaging sucks, because I still have no idea how to wrap gifts. But I thought maybe you’d like it. As a reminder of when you didn’t crush my dreams.”

Geralt huffed out a laugh when he peeled off the wrapping paper with Hohoho written over it. It should have been festive, but it only made Geralt think of Jaskier’s laugh.

The last of the paper fell away and Geralt held two key chains in his hand.

Jaskier rubbed his fingers together. “I told you it’s not much. I know it’s not the greatest gift.”

“A horse?” he asked without thinking.

“You mentioned that you took your daughter to see your horse sometimes. So… I assumed you like horses.” He pulled a face. “Sorry, that sounded weird.”

“I mentioned Roach once. In passing. And you remembered?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, a timid smile appearing on his face. “Of course I remembered. How often do you meet a guy who actually has a horse? That’s pretty cool. You don’t just forget something like that.”

Geralt was sure his face was fully red. In a pitiful attempt to distract from the fact that he was incredibly close to hugging Jaskier once more, he looked back at the other keychain. He couldn’t keep the smile of his face.

“And a wolf.” He held it carefully in his hand, just like Jaskier had when he had seen it on the Christmas market.

“I went back there and got it for you.” There was the smallest hint of hesitation, before Jaskier added, “And to answer your question…I do think you’re cute too.”

Geralt’s words of thanks got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t have heard correctly. But the words repeated over and over in his head, the suddenly timid look on Jaskier’s face the proof that he had actually said it.

“Anyway.” Jaskier rubbed his neck. “I just wanted to give that to you. I probably should go now. Wouldn’t want to impose on you.” The words were rushed and he was already turning around. “So, have fun with your family. Merry Christmas.”

Panic rose in Geralt. He had missed so many chances, he couldn’t let this one slip through his fingers as well.

“Stay with me,” he blurted out, desperate to keep Jaskier from leaving. If he left now, Geralt was sure he wouldn’t be granted another chance. “You said you don’t have anyone to celebrate with. So do it with us. Lambert, my brother is a bit rough, but I’m sure you’d get along with Eskel.” Geralt knew he was rambling, but he needed Jaskier to stay. “And Ciri already adores you for dressing up as an elf and I’m sure my father would like to meet you. And we always cook too much anyway and -”

Jaskier came closer again, a soft expression on his face that Geralt longed to see more often.

“And it would make me happy,” he ended.

A heartbeat passed. And Geralt realised what he had just said. He had invited someone whom he had known for less than a week to spend Christmas with his family. It was stupid. No one in their right mind would say yes to that. Least of all Jaskier, who was sunshine and loud laughs and soft hums. There was no reason he would want to spend this day which he loved so much with Geralt of all people.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. “You don’t have to,” he forced himself to say. “Forget I said anything.”

“I’d rather not forget it,” Jaskier said softly and suddenly his eyes lit up like a lighthouse, shining through a tempest. “I’d love to celebrate with you.”

He hesitated for only the briefest moment, before standing on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss against Geralt’s cheek.

With a grin he added, “And I’m sure, Lambert isn’t so bad. If I remember correctly, he’s the one I have to thank for meeting you.”

“Don’t you dare thank him.” Geralt’s grin belied his growl. “If you tell him that something actually good came out of him going behind my back, he will never let me live it down.”

Jaskier laughed. “We can’t that now, can we? Don’t worry, I won’t tell him that I owe him my happiness.”

He followed Geralt inside the house and throughout the evening stayed true to his word. Still, Lambert sent Geralt a knowing smirk. Geralt was sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it, but looking at Jaskier smile and laugh with his family, looking like he fit right in, made him think that this was definitely worth enduring Lambert’s smugness.

#geraskier #the witcher #fluff #modern au #lambert #lambert is a little shit #christmas #my writing #witcher fanfiction #fic

[mintymiknow]

Promise | Han Jisung

Summary: You didn’t mean to get involved, but funny how life works, right? But perhaps, Han Jisung was someone you could trust no matter what.

[Jisung x Reader] [Implied Gang AU] [WC: approx. 4.2k words]

Genre: Uhhh idk how to categorize this lol

Warning: Mentions of violence and other “gang-related” content

A/N: @hannie-squirrel00 had given me this prompt/idea a while back, and I only found time to do this recently. I know nothing about gangs/mafia AUs, so apologies if this was...off. HAHAHA hope y’all like it still~

*italicized parts denote flashbacks/past events

If keeping secrets were a super power, you’d probably be hailed as the greatest secret-keeping-superhero of the century.

If you earned a dollar for every secret you kept, you’d be filthy rich.

Why were you so good at keeping secrets?‌ You weren’t too sure either; technically speaking, you weren’t much of a gossiper anyway, but perhaps certain situations and people have brought you up to be an exceptional secret keeper.

What were you supposed to do either wise? It’s not like you knew, right?

Han Jisung. He was a regular at the cafe you worked at, always entering with a sunny-bright grin as he waved at your manager, Kim Yugyeom. You still remember the first time you took his order, as he maintained very intense eye contact with you. Back then, you thought the sun itself lived within his very soul – no, that sun itself was his soul. He never forgot to have small talk with you as he waited for another barista to complete his order.

His orders would range from various drinks in different amounts. There were days he’d drink it by the sunny corner of the café, and there were days he went on a quick run, opting to have his orders for take-out. You’d become accustomed to each other, talking and joking around like college buddies.

“Han Jisung, you can’t compare a latte to an americano.” you laughed, “They’re two different drinks.”

“No, hear me out, y/n.” Jisung said, but he isn’t able to finish his sentence as a fit of giggles take the place of his words.

You chuckled at his cheery personality, gently shoving him to the side as you proceeded to wiping a table. Jisung pouted his lips before leaning over from behind, grabbing the damp cloth from you. “Ah, Jisung!” you protested.

The male held the cloth away from you, smirking victoriously, “We’re not done with this argument, y/n. Don’t ignore me.”

You huffed out a deep breath, raising an inquisitive eyebrow, “Are we having this argument because your friend Minho doesn’t like lattes as much as you do?”

“That…” Jisung nodded, looking at you with serious eyes, “that is partly the reason.”

You smirked, crossing your arms across your chest, “Jisung, I need to finish all these tables before my shift is over.”

“I’ll help you then.” Jisung beamed, immediately getting to work on wiping the table’s surface.

You stood there almost dumbfounded, scoffing in disbelief as a smile curled at your lips. “This is my job, mister.”

A light chuckle escaped Jisung’s lips as he stood straighter. He didn’t say anything and merely looked at you, a gentle grin gracing his lips. It was already afternoon by now, and so the sun barely filtered through the café’s large glass windows. The sky was slowly painted hues of pink and orange, casting a hazy, soft glow onto Jisung’s features, making him look warm and inviting.

With another light chuckle, Jisung winked, “What? Is there something on my face?”

You rolled your eyes, ashamed and embarrassed for being caught staring. In response, you grabbed the cloth from him with one hand, reaching out with your other to pick a very small crumb from the corner of his mouth. “You really like the bread here, don’t you?” you laughed, showing him the evidence.

Jisung blinked, eyes shifting between the crumb and your face before finally stopping to look directly in your eyes. “I guess I do.” he chuckled, tearing his gaze away almost too quickly for his liking.

Over his next few visits, Jisung would even help you clean tables and sweep the floors if the day was busier than usual, and you’d take that opportunity to spend more time with him – he was, after all, someone you ended up crushing on.

That all somehow changed one evening.

You had the night shift, and contrary to what your other co-workers thought, you preferred the evening shift. Yes, Jisung usually dropped by in the morning or afternoon, but evening shifts were much more relaxed and calmer than the busy rush hours of the day. Less rude customers, less annoying kids screeching with their parents – those were some big reasons. Yugyeom was usually in his office, but tonight, he had an emergency to run to, leaving you to close up the café.

You were just about ready to leave – coat on and keys in your hand – when a loud thud caught your attention. Perhaps you should have locked the door.

Though a part of you was nervous and afraid, you had no choice but to check what made that sound. Who would be dropping by for the coffee run at 11 in the evening? You exited Yugyeom’s office, clutching a pair of scissors tightly in your hand in case this person were to harm you. However, you were met with a familiar blond head behind the counter. Tilting your head in curiosity, you approached him. Jisung never visited at night. Why was he here now? Nonetheless, you were excited to see him once again, smiling and laughing at your café misfortunes for the day.

However, you were not ready to see him bleeding, his exhausted figure sitting on the floor with his back against the counter table. “Jisung!” you gasped, rushing over to kneel next to him.

He chuckled lowly, waving his hand around for you to hold. As soon as you gripped it tightly, he whispered, “Don’t freak out, y/n. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not!” you hissed, “Jisung, what happened?”

He was silent; his hand slipped from your grasp, lips pressed into a tight line and eyes coldly staring straight ahead, doing their best to avoid your line of sight. He looked so different.

“Jisung.” you said softer this time, carefully bringing your hand up to hover above a bruise on his cheek.

The male took your hand into his, squeezing it gently. “I’m not who you think I am, y/n.” he said, a sad and bitter smile painting his features.

You blinked rapidly, eyes darting to every wound and bruise on his face, “What do you mean? You said…you said you were a fresh graduate currently undergoing training to be a forensic officer, right?”

“You believe things too quickly.” he chuckled, the sound darker and less friendly than usual, “That’s what you’d call a cover-up, y/n – a fake identity.”

You swallowed the ball-sized lump in your throat, shaking your head in the most subtle manner, “I’m sorry, what are you trying to say, Han Jisung?”

Jisung sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the counter, “You should probably forget about me, y/n. It’s for the best. You shouldn’t have anything to do with me.”

“Well, you’re the one who walked into the café, Jisung.” you nearly glared, “Explain yourself. You look horrible.”

He smiled, the cut on his lip stretching with a violent red color. “You’re a smart person, y/n, so I’m sure you know what gangs are, especially in districts like ours.”

It hit you. Gangs were a prevalent ruling force in your district, and while most gangs did not harm normal citizens and did things underground, a few select were notorious for various violent public crimes, sparing no one. Was Jisung one of the latter kind?

You backed away from the male, grabbing the scissors you had brought from earlier. Jisung noted your tense disposition, the fear in your eyes visible even in the dark. In contrast to his ungodly, beaten appearance, the smile he flashed you was gentle and warm. “I’m not going to hurt you, y/n, please. I’d never do that.” he brought his hand to the scissors, lowering the object away from his face.

You felt like crying and just running away; report him, call the police – anything. But you didn’t. “Why are you here?” you said, voice barely audible.

Jisung chuckled, closing his eyes, “Minho and I had work to do, but another gang got in the way. We ended up getting separated. I think Minho’s got enough strength and skill to make it back to the base alive, but…well, here I am.”

“Why are you here?” you repeated sternly, hoping Jisung got the hint.

Jisung shrugged, cheeky smile visible once again, “Instinct? There’s a reason I’m so close to your manager, y/n. Think of it as a symbiotic relationship.” he opened his eyes, chuckling again, “This is like a safe place for me and my gang members. I just…”

He looked into your eyes, his gaze burning you on the spot. You gulped, frozen and heart thumping with a crazy speed. Jisung’s smile melted into a gentler one, hand reaching forward to caress your cheek, “I just didn’t expect I’d meet you and get this attached.”

“What do I have to do with anything?” you choked out, vision getting blurry.

Jisung looked apologetic, guilty eyes landing on your shaking fists, “Rival gangs know you, y/n. Somehow, they know you’re…affiliated with me. I don’t know, maybe they’ve seen us talking and having fun here, I really don’t know. My leader’s figuring things out, but right now, I’m afraid I’ve dragged you into a messy thing.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. It broke Jisung to see you scared; he’s always seen you smiling and carefree like the summer breeze, but to see the cracks and despair painted so visibly on your face hurt him even more than his current injuries.

And it was somehow his fault. His fault for getting close to you.

“I’m so sorry.” is all he managed to whisper, hands enveloping your shaking ones.

He knows it’s against the rules, but Jisung pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your trembling figure. You can’t explain why, but the action washes you with a sense of relief and safety. You found yourself burying your face against the crook of his neck, tears staining his already-dirtied shirt.

After a moment of silence, Jisung pulled you away just enough to peer into your eyes, “I know I messed things up for your life, y/n, but I promise I’ll take responsibility.”

“Jisung.” you breathed out, hands delicately going up to cup his bruised face.

“I’ll protect you no matter what.” the male declared, leaning his forehead against yours, “I swear on my life.”

Things got slightly more complicated ever since that night; Bang Chan had no choice to make sure that their gang – known as SKZ – would have to keep a close watch on you every now and then. Jisung would be doing it most of the time, but if he had a job or mission to take care of, Lee Felix, Lee Minho or Hwang Hyunjin would watch over you. Though they were cold at first, they eventually warmed up and became friendlier.

You also had to move to an apartment closer to their base, were given a separate phone to communicate with them, and made arrangements with Yugyeom to not have the night shift so as to avoid staying out late.

A year had gone by, and unbeknownst to you, you and Jisung had developed deeper feelings for each other. Chan discouraged any sort of relationship, but after much consideration and persuasion, he allowed Jisung to formally “ask you out”, as long as the relationship was kept in secret; that would include absolutely no PDA, no exclusive dates out in public, and absolutely no skinship. Everything was to be done in your apartment.

Your lifestyle and dynamics adjusted to how everything was by now. The SKZ members were never to be seen around you, but you could always feel their presence, somehow like how you’d read about guardian angels in the novels you desperately enjoyed going through.

You had just finished washing the dishes when you heard faint shuffling in your living room. Eyes brightening and heart thumping, you knew it was another one of Jisung’s “surprise” visits. You wipe your hands dry and briskly walk towards the living room, eyes crinkling with happiness when the said male flashes you a bright grin.

He opens his arms wide, “Hey, y/n.”

“Jisung.” you chuckle as soon as you fling yourself towards his figure, wrapping him in a tight hug.

The male hugs you back, breathing in your scent as he buries his face in your hair. “Is it ok for you to be here?” you ask, leading him to sit on the couch.

Jisung nods with a smile, “Yeah, Chan knows. I can’t stay long though.”

You pout in the slightest, nodding your head in understanding. Jisung continues to speak, gently caressing your cheek as a cheeky smile presents itself on his lips, “How was work?”

You shrug, giggling as you recall how you and Son Chaeyoung had made a mess in the café, laughing it off as you cleaned up. “Um…very eventful.” you reply, winking at the male next to you, “I have the day off tomorrow though.”

“That’s good. At least you can sleep in, right?” Jisung jokes, “Maybe Chan will let me spend the day with you.”

“That would be nice,” you start, booping his nose, “but don’t push him. Chan’s already done enough for us to be together.”

“I know. He’s the best.” Jisung chuckles, kissing your cheek, “Oh, speaking of which. I was going to tell you something funny that happened to me and Changbin!”

Your eyes glistened as you nodded for Jisung to continue talking. As soon as he got comfortable, he began to recount today’s “hilarious event”. You couldn’t take your eyes off the man, looking at him with so much awe and delight. Little stars had started to dance in his eyes – the same eyes that have witnessed death, violence, and a thousand underground mysteries. But none of that shone in his eyes, replaced by an illuminating glow that could rival the heavens.

“So, you could only imagine how pissed Minho and Hyunjin were.” Jisung ends his story, wiping a tear away from his eye as a result of his sudden laughter.

You do the same, slapping his arm in response, “Why’d you and Changbin do that in the first place?”

“It seemed fun.” Jisung says seriously, “And we weren’t wrong!”

“Ah, you boys.” you shake your head.

Jisung spends a few more minutes with you, curled up on your couch as the moonlight filtered in through your thin curtains. You lay atop the male, listening to his steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep. His fingers combed through your hair as the day’s exhaustion caught up with you. When Jisung hears the soft snores escaping your lips, he chuckles to himself, gently shifting so he could sit up. With careful movements, he manages to carry you back to your room, placing you down on your bed with so much tenderness, you wouldn’t expect it from someone who was in a gang.

With one last soft kiss to you lips, Jisung whispers a sweet “goodnight” before disappearing into the night as per usual.

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

As expected, you woke up late the next day. Thankfully, Yugyeom gave you the day off, so you spent it having breakfast in your favorite restaurant, strolling in the park, visiting an antique bookstore, and watching your favorite dramas. You even did a little “cleaning-up” of your slightly messy apartment, which then gave you some sense of satisfaction and achievement.

Night fell, and you were just about ready for dinner. However, you completely forgot to do the grocery and didn’t have enough ingredients for that dish you were planning to make. You already had delivered food for lunch, so you chose to buy something from the convenience store nearby.

Yes, you’ve considered the risks of going out at night, as per Chan. But, the convenience store was just two houses away from your apartment building. Grabbing your wallet, you headed out.

It was a quick trip – enter the convenience store, grab the packed meals by the freezer, pay at the counter, exit the store, and begin walking back to your apartment.

That’s how it was supposed to be.

You knew you should have walked back immediately, but when you heard faint sobbing at a corner nearby, you failed to do so. Instead, you carefully approached the sobbing sounds, only to end up face to face with a young woman, sitting on the ground with her head between her hands.

Her sobs were more audible by now, and you could clearly see the huge gash on her knees. If Chan or Jisung were there, they would have been furious, but despite that, you gently kneeled in front of the woman and whisper, “Excuse me, miss, are you ok?”

She shakes her head, sniffing as she carefully lifts her head. Her eyes were swollen with tears, nose all red and runny. Pointing at the gash on her knee, she sobs, “Someone accidentally pushed me while he was running and I ended up tripping really bad.”

“Is the guy still around here?”

“No, he was jogging, so I guess he’s long gone.”

You sigh, inspecting the injury she had sustained, “Well, I don’t have anything to clean this up with. You should get home immediately to get this washed. Or, there’s a convenience store really close by. You can buy disinfectants and bandages, ok?”

She nods with a weak yet gentle smile, weakly asking if you could help her stand. You comply, bringing your arms around her to help her up. However, as soon as you both are standing upright, the woman harshly shoves you down.

The action shocks you, especially when your back hits the ground hard. Without a moment to register what happened, the woman lightly steps on your chest, keeping you in place. At the exact moment, two more men approach, snarling and snickering as they grab your arms.

You’re violently pushed against your will, unable to scream as one of the men had covered your mouth. Despite the constant kicking and lashing around, the men still have a death grip on you, having now dragged you to a secluded alleyway. They let go of you, and your panic-filled brain thinks of it as an opportunity to run away.

As soon as you take one step, one man grabs the back of your neck, throwing you back onto the ground. You grunt in pain, whining at the sharp sensation that floods your nerves. The woman was gone by now, but the other man picks you up by the throat, slamming you against the bricked wall. A choked gasp escapes your lips, your scratching doing nothing to the man’s callous skin. “Let go of me!” you rasp, kicking at anything and everything.

“Hmm, cute.” he snickers, tightening his grip on your throat, “Where is Han Jisung?”

“Han – who?” you glare, using all your strength to try and pry his hands away from you, “What are you talking about? Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie, sweetie.” the other male smirks, driving a knee to your stomach, “You’re the one our sources talked about. Han Jisung’s pretty princess.”

You grit your teeth, bringing one hand to the man’s leg. You try to get his knee away from pressing into your stomach, but it’s no use. Your silence only aggravates them more; the man who was strangling you gestures towards his companion. The latter then whips out a small knife, pressing the cold metal to you cheek. “I’ll repeat my question.” he hisses, “Where is Han Jisung?”

You can feel the fear settling in your bones like a thick, inky liquid. But, despite common sense telling you to just fess up, you shake your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man clicks his tongue, twisting the knife so that the sharp edge dug into your skin. He drags it along your cheek at an agonizingly slow pace, drawing blood that coated its tip. You let out a shriek of pain before the man who had a grip on your neck snarls at you. With his free hand, he covers your mouth, allowing his companion to carve another diagonal cut to your collarbone.

By now, tears have started to escape your eyes, pupils shaking in horror as fear finally swallows you whole. You’re just about ready to succumb to the darkness when you hear a gunshot.

There’s blood on your face. Was it blood from your cuts, or was it blood from the man who was shot in the head? You couldn’t tell, and you began to fall on your knees.

The other man is instantly on guard, aiming his own gun somewhere at the shadows. A familiar figure appears from the shadows, gun pointed at your assailant. It’s not Jisung – it’s Lee Minho, his best friend. With his usual ice-cold eyes, he glares at the man, “Step away, asshole.”

“Here I was looking for your gang when you voluntarily show yourselves.” the man smirks, refusing to back down.

Minho glances over to you, gesturing behind him. You get up and ready yourself to run. The man turns around to halt your steps, but Minho fires a shot to his leg. “It’s you and me, pal.” he smirks viciously, and if this were a movie, Minho would have blood-red eyes glowing in the dark.

With whatever strength you had left in your legs, you sprint behind Minho, and as soon as you’re behind the male, a pair of arms circle around you. You squeal at the suddenness, but a voice hushes you. “Y/n, shhh. It’s ok, it’s me.” Jisung whispers so quietly, only you hear it.

Your tears have mixed with the blood on your face, but you don’t care; you bury your face against Jisung’s chest, clutching onto him like he was your only lifeline. “Jisung, go.” Minho growls as he tackles the assailant.

With a clear opening, Jisung holds your hand tightly, sprinting away from the scene. The last thing you hear is the man’s choked screech echoing into the night.

Now, Jisung had you seated on your couch, tending to the wounds on your face and collarbone. It was so silent, so deafeningly silent. You had fallen into a daze, eyes empty and lifeless as Jisung concentrated on your cuts. You stay quiet, but Jisung explains how he and Minho were supposed to drop by your apartment when they heard screaming and shouting nearby.

When he had finished patching you up, he kneeled in front of you and carefully enveloped your hands in his. He stays like that for a minute, watching your tears trail down your cheeks. The soothing patterns he brushes on the skin of your hand calms your trembling heart, and somehow, you give him a broken albeit assuring smile. Once you do, Jisung does the same, reaching one hand out to cup the cheek without a cut. You melt into his touch and take a deep breath, closing your eyes.

Jisung sighs and whispers, “Y/n, I’m so, so, so very sorry this happened.”

You shook your head, gently opening your eyes to gaze directly into Jisung’s worried ones, “Sung, please. This isn’t your fault. I should have went straight home after buying food.”

Jisung lifts himself to sit next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I promised I’d protect you, and I failed. I failed that promise, y/n. You got hurt. You witnessed things you shouldn’t have to.”

You don’t respond; instead, you bring your arms around Jisung. He encases you in a hug that makes you forge everything, that makes you feel safe and secure. With gentle rubs to your back, Jisung whispers against your temple, “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“You saved me, Jisung. You and Minho.” you pull away to smile at the man, “Minho may have taken care of the men, but you came as well. You held me, you brought me home, you’re taking care of me right now.”

Jisung kisses your forehead, nose, and lips before giving another melancholic smile. “No one will ever touch you again, I swear.”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear that had managed to slip from the male’s eyes, “I trust you with my life, Han Jisung.”

He kisses you, careful not to be too strong with you being in a delicate and fragile state. You both remain in each other’s arms for the next few minutes when someone knocks at your door. Agitated yourself, Jisung smiles gently and whispers, “That might be Chan and Minho.”

He stands up, carefully opening the door to reveal the two said males. You weakly wave at them, immediately apologizing to Chan for causing trouble yet again.

“That gang’s been after Jisung for a while.” Minho explains with a shrug, “Those two men were stopped by Sung when they tried to distribute drugs.”

Chan nods, sitting next to you on the couch, “Y/n, you’re lucky to have gotten out of there alive. How are you?”

You give him a weak smile, “I’ll be fine, Chan. Thanks. I am still hungry.”

“Where’s the food you bought?” Jisung asks.

Minho leans against the wall, holding up the plastic bag with your convenience store food, “If you’re looking for this, might as well feed it to the dogs. Those assholes managed to step on it while getting to you.”

You lightly giggle, sighing as your eyes fall onto the mushed-up packaging, “Ah, I really wanted some dinner.”

Jisung and Minho look at each other with identical grins before turning to Chan.

Their leader clasps his hand around yours, giving it a light squeeze. Despite the title of “leader” lingering above his head, Chan had a gentler disposition to match his warm eyes. “Maybe you should have dinner in our base for now.” he shrugs.

“And for a while.”

#stray kids #han jisung #jisung #jisung scenario #jisung imagine #han jisung scenario #han jisung imagine #skz #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #skz scenario #skz imagine #scenario #imagine #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #mafia #gang #au #mafia au #gang au

[yoontopia]

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗺𝘁𝗵 𝗽𝘁.𝟮 | 𝗺𝘆𝗴

pairing: min yoongi x reader; genre: fluff; words: 2k (lol what was i thinking)

warnings: none!

prompt: “Stay with me” + “Well. Yell, scream, say something. Anything” based off this prompt list. requests are OPEN!

Read Part One 

You tried to focus on the work in front of you. It was a regular Tuesday afternoon at the office and your surroundings were quiet – the whirring of the photocopy machine in the background acting as white noise. Staring daggers at the spreadsheets in front of you, your brain refused to absorb any of the information. Your ears were tuned into the humming of a muted rap coming from the cubicle next to you, and a sound that you usually managed to ignore was somehow the one reason you couldn’t focus today.

Ever since a couple weeks ago, when your usually noisy and annoying work neighbour had offered you a hot drink and his spare clothes, you couldn’t get him out of your head. It was after a particularly bad day, what with you being dumped over a text and then ending up getting soaked in the pouring rain. Min Yoongi had gone from being someone you despised to someone you were now constantly thinking about at work.

‘All because he was nice to you once,’ you berated yourself mentally. How pathetic were you? To let one kind gesture affect you like this? Although, to be fair, Yoongi’s incessant teasing had significantly decreased over the past couple weeks. He was almost nice to you – he still joked and teased you, but it was now in the form of cheerful workplace banter and you found yourself not minding it one bit. And as if that was not the worst part, you had started to notice the little things you had somehow overlooked before.

Like how Min Yoongi was actually a very handsome man.

Letting your forehead hit your desk, you let out a light groan. Tapping your feet angrily on the floor you sighed.

“You okay there, squirt? You sound like you’re in pain.” a voice piped up and you lifted your head slightly to see the dyed white blonde of Yoongi’s head poking into your cubicle. One earphone still in, the other hanging down his chest, he had his eyebrows raised as he looked at you. You hated how cute his scrunched-up nose was.

“Yeah, m’fine,” you mumbled, waving a hand weakly at him. The last thing you wanted was for Yoongi to read your mind, he was weirdly good at doing just that. Yoongi looked at you disbelievingly, but he changed the subject.

“You coming tonight?” he asked. You tilted your head, so your cheek was resting on your desk instead, facing him. That’s right, tonight was the monthly work social. The human resources department, in desperate attempt to increase inter-work bonding, had arranged these. The email reminder you’d received yesterday stated that this week it would be laser tag. You usually passed up on these events, not really being too friendly with anyone you worked with.

“I don’t think I will.” You told Yoongi, hoping he’d drop the subject. Was that a flicker of disappointment on his face?

“Well you should,” he said instead, returning his focus to his own computer and typing away. “It’ll be fun and then I’ll have someone to show off my skills to.”

“Skills?” you snickered. The typing sounds stopped and Yoongi’s head reappeared outside his cubicle.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I am extremely talented at laser tag,” He stated, mock offended. “I’ll buy you a beer so you can come, and I can prove it to you.”

“Damn you really want me there to show off your skills,” you said, chuckling, pushing yourself off your chair in order to go make some coffee. When Yoongi didn’t answer you looked back at him. He was looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Of course, I want you to come, it’s not fun otherwise,” he mumbled, his face unreadable. You blinked, your heart picking up its pace. What did he mean by that?

“Fine, if you insist, I guess I can stop by,” You said softly, playing with a strand of your hair. His face visibly brightened at that, making your heart flutter when he shot you a particularly wide gummy grin. “Do you want some coffee? Black right?” His smile faded again as he looked at you, expression unreadable once more. You desperately wondered what that look meant and a petty side of you wondered if he looked at other women like that too.

“Yeah, thanks, I’d love some.”

You stared at the meeting spot for the social in disbelief. It was a bar. You double checked the email on your phone to make sure this was a place, but you didn’t need to, since you heard your name being called. Looking up, you grinned at perhaps the one person you knew slightly well at work.

Jung Hoseok made his way over to you, brown hair curling, and his signature wide smile on his face. Hoseok worked in human resources, and you had a sneaky suspicion that laser tag had somehow been his idea.

“You came!” he yelled over the loud music.

“I thought we’re supposed to go to laser tag,” you responded jovially. Hoseok made anyone around him feel comfortable, and it was hard not to be friendly.

“We’re going after this,” he grinned, raising the bottle in his hand at you.

“Drunk laser tag? Really Hobi?”

“Please the place is full of like, ten-year olds, we need that extra kick,” You laughed at that and accompanied him to the bar to order yourself a drink. “How come you’re actually here though? Didn’t think this was your scene.”

Your fingers clasped around the cold bottle of Blue Moon that the bartender set down in front of you.

“Min Yoongi made me.”

“Min Yoongi – as in – the Min Yoongi in your department Min Yoongi?” Hoseok stuttered. “The one you got into a yelling match with at the Christmas formal two years ago?”

“Yes, the very same,” you sighed. “Where is he anyway?”

“Excited to see him, are we?” Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. You scowled and flipped him off, but he only laughed good-naturedly.

The rest of your time at the bar was spent with Hoseok, Yoongi nowhere in sight. Trying to hide your disappointment, you laughed at all of Hoseok’s jokes and forced him to show you pictures of his dog. What felt like an eternity later, Hoseok said it was time to head to laser tag. Downing your second beer of the night you eyed the boy next to you.

“I’m gonna go round up everyone – wait for me by the doors?” he said before scampering off to go find others from your company. You slapped a few bills on the bar and made your way to the exit. Not wanting to look lonely, you fished out your phone and scrolled through twitter. Not for the first time you mentally berated yourself for not being more social.

“Hey, you,” a familiar voice said, and you looked up. Yoongi stood there, dressed in what you could only call a stark contrast from his usual semi-formal work attire. A cream baggy t-shirt, and ripped black jeans complete with a leather jacket. His ears glittered with multiple earrings, dangling every time he moved his head. His platinum hair shined in the lighting. You blinked at him, dumbfounded, trying not to hover over the fact that his gaze gave you once over. You hoped your casual sweater and jeans were up to standard. “How’s it going?”

You blinked again. You’d never known Yoongi to be the type to make awkward conversation openers. But you played along.

“Waiting for Hoseok so we can head down,” you answered, putting your phone away. Yoongi pursed his lips. “Where were you anyway? I arrived ages ago.”

“With the guys,” Yoongi gestured to a group of people you weren’t familiar with. When had he made friends at work? He had seemed even more anti-social than you, but you had assumed wrong. “I saw you with Hobi and didn’t want to interrupt.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, you heard your name being called for the second time. Looking up, you felt your stomach drop – but not in the fuzzy way it had when Yoongi had arrived.

Your ex-boyfriend stood there, looking surprised. It seemed he’d just arrived.

“It is you!” he said and made his way over. You gulped. “How have you been?” Your tongue felt tied, but you couldn’t help the burning anger that was bubbling up inside you. Yoongi must have sensed your change in mood.

“Hey man, I’m Yoongi.” He said casually, sticking out a hand.

“Hansol,” your ex said, taking it, a questioning look in his eyes. “Are you two--?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replied casually and you whipped your head to look at him. His face didn’t betray anything. “We are. Let’s go,” he said, the latter part of his sentence addressing you. He grabbed you by the elbow and began dragging you out before you could say anything.

Once you were outside you huffed, pulling yourself out of his grip.

“I could have handled that,” you said angrily. “I’m not a damsel.” Yoongi shrugged.

“That’s him, right?” he asked, and you raised your eyebrows. “The reason you arrived soaked to the core that day.”

“How did you know?”

“Your expression,” he shrugged again. “Haven’t seen it since that day, he must be some scumbag.”

“You still didn’t need to do that,” you said, although your anger was fast dissipating. “I wanted to tell him off.”

“Well,” he said. “Do it. Yell, scream. Say something – anything. I’ll listen.”

“I’m not going to scream at you,” you huffed. Yoongi flashed you a crooked smile.

“Don’t take your anger out on people that don’t deserve it,” he said sagely. “But you also need to let it out at some point.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked abruptly. You assumed the alcohol in your system had given you the courage you needed to voice the question that had been plaguing your mind. “You weren’t before.”

“Ah,” he mumbled, scratching his ear nervously. “I’m sorry if I came off as mean. My brother told me that I was going about it the wrong way, but I think it was just a defense mechanism to tease you incessantly. Doesn’t make it ok though.”

“Going about what wrong?” He stared down at you; lips pursed.

“I’ve had a massive crush on you pretty much since I started working,” He said, his voice quiet. Your ears were ringing and suddenly your hands were feeling warm. “And I didn’t know what to do about it – and then I waited too long, and you had a boyfriend.”

“Hansol and I weren’t even serious,” you whispered.

“How was I to know that?” He stared nervously at you. “Have I made you uncomfortable? I could leave—”

“No,” you said, your voice still hushed. “Stay with me.”

Yoongi froze, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket. You smiled shyly up at him. Before you could say anything else, he was leaning in, his hands coming out to cup your cheeks, tilting your face up.

His lips were soft and tasted like rum. The kiss was full of hesitation, but when you reached out to fist your hands on either side of his jacket and opened up to him, you felt him lean in, hands traveling to your head, fingers gently sifting through your hair. You could stand here all day getting drunk off Yoongi if it wasn’t for the rude interruption that came not seconds later.

“And what do we have here?” Hoseok’s coy voice sounded, surrounded by a few people from work who were emerging out of the bar, and you jumped. It seemed Yoongi was caught off guard too, for he let you go quicker than lightening.

“Shut up Hoseok,” you hissed, your ears going warm. Hoseok grinned as he moved his gaze along from you to Yoongi, who seemed to be suddenly very interested in the night sky. You reached out to hook your fingers through Yoongi’s, much to his surprise, and smiled when you felt his grip tighten around you.

“Don’t get left behind,” Hoseok said slyly as he turned and walked down the street. You groaned loudly and Yoongi laughed, a tinkling, delighted sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“I live just around the corner actually,” he coughed. “You wanna ditch?”

“I thought you wanted to show off your laser tag skills.”

“Are you kidding? I only said that to try and get you to come. I’m not about to get beaten in a virtual game by preteens in front of the girl I like.” He was smiling his full gummy smile down at you, and dazedly you thought you could get used to this.

#min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fluff #min yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenario #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #yoongi #myg #writings

[wickedbarnes]

𝕬𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖌𝖚𝖎𝖘𝖊 (Pt. 3) | John Wick x Reader

Part 2

WARNING: Abduction. Angst. Violence.

--

It had been about two days since you last seen Iosef and as much as you'd love to know how he's doing, you just couldn't bring yourself to do so just yet. Viggo had been doing business and his presence is much needed if he wants to keep all the fortune he has right now. So he has no choice but to leave you alone at the mansion.

You weren't entirely defenseless since you refused to be. The moment you knew the dangers of bearing the Tarasov name was the moment you had secretly took up Jui-Jitsu class and Krav Maga. You knew that if you told either Iosef or your father about this they'd immediately make you stop. Especially when you had recently took up shooting classes. You found out you had quite the skill in holding guns and shooting them.

But that secret was just that. A secret.

Despite all those, you had no choice but to have guards watching over you. And somehow, the situation almost made you laugh even though you were scared deep down inside. You already knew what was to come.

You had tried to mentally prepare yourself for it. John Wick is a man of focus and sheer will. You knew that he would get and finish what he started under any circumstance. So him going after you wouldn't be such a stretch since that's how it works in the underworld.

As long as you're a relative of a certain target, you'd also be a prey.

The thought of being a possible target caused your hairs to stand up in your body that you just had to go out of your room and make your way down the kitchen. You didn't even feel safe in your room anymore. The guards that had greeted you didn't assure your thoughts of being away from the Baba Yaga. You knew that he could take all of them in a short period of time.

Meanwhile, John had successfully snuck in the back entrance of the mansion. According to Marcus, Viggo had left about twenty of his men roaming around with a duty to protect you. While he left about ten to Iosef at the Red Circle. Once he gets you to the Continental, he'll be on his way to find your brother and put a bullet in his head.

Shaking his head, John had proceeded to make his way further inside where he began to fight a swarm of men that charged at him. All of which were very easy to kill. His gun was a dead give away of his presence inside the Tarasov residence. Maybe he should've carried a silencer instead.

Once he made his way through the huge living room, John tucked his gun in his pants and proceeded to grab his knife where he quietly stabbed the remaining guards that roamed around until he had finally reached the kitchen where you had your back towards him as you quietly made a cup of coffee.

Your hunch was right when you said he'd come for you. The sound of guns going off and the guards running around in panic were an obvious sign that the Boogeyman is in the same vicinity as you. But surprisingly, you didn't feel the need to hide. Nor run away despite the fact one of the guards had reassured you that you'll be escaping the mansion once they take care of the situation.

But the silence that lingered inside the whole house was enough to tell you that John had killed them all.

You stirred the coffee in your favorite mug after you had put the creamer in. Raising the cup to your lips, you blew on the drink softly before carefully taking a sip just as you felt the cold metallic feel of a gun against the back of your head.

"Good evening, Mr. John." You greeted and almost smiled at the name you had once called him before, your voice void of any fear or panic but you made sure you had repressed that deep down. You had refused to let John know that you're scared.

"Fancy having coffee with me?" You asked, taking another careful sip of your drink.

John was somehow taken aback by your reaction. He expected you to hide or beg him not to hurt you but he was surprised to see how calm you were and even go as far as to drink coffee while he was holding you at gun point.

"I would but I don't have much time." He replied, his voice deeper and huskier last time you remembered.

"Shame. My father always told me I make the best coffee. Would've loved to get your opinion on that. You love coffee, don't you?" You asked, taking a bigger sip of your caffeine drink since it began to get colder.

"I do." John replied and let out a deep sigh, "Y/N, I really don't want to do this to you but I-"

"We should go before Papa calls on more backups." You said, completely cutting him off as you placed your mug on the sink and moved away from the counter before making your way out of the kitchen, leaving John standing there a bit dumbfounded.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, turning to look at you confusingly. You took a deep breath before you had finally turned to face him, ignoring the fact that he looks much better than he did all those years ago. You have seen just how older he got but he was handsome nonetheless. Raven hair gelled to perfection while he sported his usual three piece suit. But now wasn't the time to admire him.

"I said we should go before Papa calls on more backups. He's probably contacting the head of security but I assume he's somewhere in the house laying in his own blood." You stated nonchalantly before nodding your head outside the kitchen, "Let's go."

You were insane. You just had to be. In all his years of being in the game, John has never seen someone so calm about being abducted or possibly killed. But somehow, he found himself walking behind you, completely ignoring the dead bodies that loitered around the hallway as you lead him back to the back exit where you saw a car waiting outside.

"New car?" You asked as you both walked to the sleek looking car.

"Just borrowed it." He answered, making his way over to open the door for you.

You raised your brows at him but didn't question him any further as you hopped inside the car before he closed the door.

It amused you how he didn't forget the act of chivalry even when he was potentially abducting you. It didn't take long before he hopped inside and drove away from your home to God knows where. You nervously fiddled with your fingers but made sure to do it discreetly.

Despite the cool facade you had put on, the fear in your body never left. You were surprised you still managed to put up the act that you were unbothered by all this. But somehow, your mind and body told you that John didn't seem like a man that would kill you just because you were Viggo's daughter and Iosef's sister.

John was an assassin but he wasn't a monster. That's what you knew and kind of held on to.

"You're an odd one." John would say after some time as he kept his eyes on the road.

"I know." You replied, your gaze never leaving the window as you passed by the busy city of New York.

"You do realize what's currently happening, right?" You felt John stealing a glance at you and you couldn't help but smile slightly as you nodded your head.

"Indeed I do, Mr. John. I wasn't born yesterday. I know what my brother did." You sighed and shifted in your seat, "I'm sorry about your wife. I tried to convince Iosef not to do what he did but he's very hard-headed."

"What do you mean?"

"The night he broke into your home, stole your car and... killed your dog, I warned and tried to persuade him not to do so. But I didn't know it was you who he was going to be messing with. I just told him not to go through with his plan since for me, it was stupid. And that one day, his ego and pride would end up with him having a bullet in his head. It seems that the prophecy I foretold is coming true."

John tightened his grip on the steering wheel and gave a solemn nod to your explanation as he focused on driving safely to the Continental.

"I'm sorry." He said after some time.

"I am too." You would say, "But apologies don't really work in situations like these."

"How can you be so calm about this? I'm going to kill your brother, Y/N. I'm sorry, but my decision is set on this. And if your father interferes, I might kill him too." His words tugged at your heartstrings and you had tried your best not to cry at that moment.

The feeling of hearing your family's possible demise from the man that's going to kill them hit really different. But you had no choice. You knew this was a dog eat dog world. You either kill or get killed. And you understood that Iosef took something precious from John despite the fact it was only a car and a dog. But somehow, you knew those two things were worth more to him than anything else.

"I know. But I'm not stupid, John. An eye for an eye. I'm calm about this because I already know what's going to happen. Don't get me wrong, I love my father and my brother more than anything in this world. After my mother died, they were all I have. And I'm sure you were like that with the gifts your wife had left for you." You swallowed the lump that was forming in your throat as you noticed John stopping the car in front of the Continental Hotel.

Turning the engine off, John turned to look at you but your gaze was still on the window, silently watching the people walk by.

"And if I was in your place I would be doing what you're doing right now." You said, finally having the courage to look back at him.

"I'm calm not because I want them dead. But because I have no choice. I can only do so much, Mr. John." You forced yourself to smile softly at him as you possibly could but John is not a man that should be fooled.

Because underneath that smile, he saw utter sorrow. Sorrow that he knew all too well. Because there was nothing more painful than losing the people you have left in your life and you couldn't do anything about it.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagines #john wick fic #john wick fanfiction

[s13e06]

Recuerdos Perdidos Pt 3

Draco Malfoy / Female Reader

Harry Potter AU

Warnings: mentions of vomit/ puking

Words: 3.1K

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4 

-

Chapter 3

It was clear to you that whatever Draco had to say, it must have been serious. Judging by the nervous gulps and tense posture, you knew he didn’t want to do this. But you deserved to hear the truth… and he must have known that much too.

“What I’m about to say may be a little hard for you to believe. But I can promise you that it’s all true.” He told you after clearing his throat. The look he gave you was so intense and focused. So even though you wanted to laugh about the notion that it would be hard for you to believe, you simply nodded your head in understanding and waited for him to continue.

“When you came here five years ago I had no intention of becoming acquainted with you in any way.” He began, talking slowly. The anticipation to hear what was to come ate away at you. “But despite all my efforts to keep you away… you never learned to quit. You were so persistent in getting to know me that eventually, I surrendered to you completely. Not just in terms of friendship…” he paused, looking into your eyes carefully.

“What do you mean?” you asked even though you already had a good idea of what he was alluding to.

“We became lovers… not overnight or anything. It wasn’t just some simple summer fling. No… it was so much more than that. I’d never let anyone in the way I let you in. I never knew I was capable of feeling so many things. It was the first time in my life that I felt truly happy” he spoke with a smile playing at his lips.

It wasn’t easy to process his words. The fact that you had been in love with each other years ago was jarring enough. But the fact that you couldn’t remember anything about it… that was… well, it made you feel almost mournful over a past you couldn’t even recall.

A part of you wanted to reject his words outright. To call his bluff and leave this stupid mansion for good. But you knew deep down that he was telling you the truth. His eyes… the way they looked into yours. You knew they were sincere.

The way he was speaking combined with the way he was looking at you now was completely different than the man you had been talking to previously. This new version of himself that was in front of you now was so very vulnerable.

“What happened to us?” you asked, choosing your words carefully.

Draco seemed to hesitate at your question, body shifting uncomfortably as he thought of what to say.

“You found out about something that you shouldn’t have…” he spoke in a whisper. You leaned forward to hear him better, the puzzled look was visibly apparent on your face. “It was only a matter of time before you figured it out… and a ridiculous part of me even hoped that it wouldn’t matter.” He swallowed. “But... what I am… who I am… it proved to be our downfall.”

His words were so vague you felt yourself becoming upset again. He wasn’t necessarily lying to you but he was certainly avoiding key details. You couldn’t keep dancing around the subject like this. Whatever he had to say. You needed to hear it.

“Who are you then?” you asked, voice stern. “Who are you really?”

This time he didn’t hesitate to respond.

“I’m a wizard, Y/N”

The look on your face must have perfectly reflected how dumbfounded you were because he immediately started explaining it to you further.

“You mentioned regaining a memory. One of a stick-like object” he questioned rhetorically. You nodded your head anyways. “Did it happen to look like this?” he asked while reaching into the side of his coat and producing a long, thin object.

As soon as you saw it you gasped in surprise. It was the same object you’d seen in your head and as you stared at it in his hand you felt the all too familiar pain begin to bubble in your brain once again. “Yes, that’s it” was all you could manage to reply as you fought to ignore the rising pain.

“This is my wand.” He spoke flatly. “One day you saw it by accident and after that, I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I thought you’d be afraid of me… or even call me crazy and leave forever. I was so scared of that. But instead, you laughed and said it was amazing. You accepted it so easily and began to barrage me with endless questions about my world.” He chuckled lightly as though recalling a fond memory. “I thought for sure that you’d be hesitant to accept me for who I was… but you said…” he paused for a moment, looking up to meet your eyes before quickly shifting them away again. “Well, you reassured me that it didn’t really matter how different we were.”

Now you knew what he meant when he said you might not believe him. This was a rather hard pill to swallow. However, something in your gut was urging you to trust him. So you did.

“I believe you. But what I still don’t understand is why we had to separate. You said yourself it was because of who you are that we had to part ways. Yet you’re telling me I accepted you unconditionally?” you questioned.

“It was my family… they would never approve of such a thing and they saw to it that what we had would be eradicated with absolutely no loose ends.” He stated coldly.

So it was his family that disapproved? But why?

“What didn’t they approve of exactly?” you asked warily.

“You’re not one of us… in any way” he replied quietly.

“Because I’m not a wizard too?” you asked a little unsure.

His face twisted a little. It was clear that he was thinking about his explanation carefully.

“Not just the fact that you’re a muggle… even if you were a witch you would have to be a pureblood of high status if we were ever to be approved of” he told you flatly.

A pureblood? It was a term you didn’t hear used often in modern-day yet you could guess what it meant. Some sort of squeaky clean family tree of sorts. No mixing allowed with so-called “muggles” like yourself. But something else that he said was sticking to your brain. The word approval. It was clear ha he came from a wealthy family so you were sure that he was most likely at their mercy; careful not to displease them. But so much to the point that whatever you to had… it wasn’t even worth fighting for? He’d give it up so quickly just because they wouldn’t approve? You didn’t understand much about the social dynamics in magical societies but you knew that he was still a person with free thought like you were. So it was clear where his priorities lied in the end.

“Ok… I think I understand what happened now. We were together but your family would never approve so you made me lose my memory or something with magic so I’d forget you and now here we are.” You replied blatantly.

His brows furrowed a little in discomfort at your words. Judging by his face you guessed that he felt a little hurt by your emotionless response. But why should you feel anything for this man anymore when he just admitted to throwing you out of his life forever to stay in his family’s good graces? You were intrigued by him in the sense that he used to be a big part of your life. A part that you’re curious to rediscover. However, whatever feelings you once had for him were definitely gone… and you had no intention of reigniting them.

“Yes… now here we are” he repeated slowly, looking into your eyes as though he was dying to say something more.

“Well…” you started while taking in a deep breath. You knew what you had to do now. “The past is just that… it’s not the present. I’m fine with that fact. But I’d be lying if I said I was ready to leave it here. I want my memories back. Not for us or what we used to have but for me… because I need to fill this missing gap in my mind” you said softly.

He was silent for a long while before he finally muttered a reply.

“I’ll see what I can do”.

The air was tense now. A thick uncomfortable feeling hung in the air. You both just looked at each other waiting for something else to be said. You weren’t sure what exactly was going through his mind but as you studied him you found that he looked quite distraught. Not in a very obvious way… no, this man was someone who was used to keeping a straight face, you could tell. But the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly mixed with the careful furrow of his browns said enough to you. Not to mention the fact that his body was oddly stiff. Like he was so tense not eve his fingers could relax.

You wondered what he was thinking about…

Just as you were about to ask though you heard footsteps coming from outside the door. They were distant but heavy. As though the person responsible for them was walking with purpose.

Draco’s face somehow became even paler as his body jerked into action. He grabbed ahold of your wrist and dragged you into the far corner of the room.

“Whatever happens he can’t see you here” he breathed out anxiously.

Who was he?

You didn’t have time to ask though before Draco was pulling out his wand and mumbling something quickly under his breath.

It felt like you were being squished. Like your whole body was being sucked through a tight vacuum. You couldn’t really see anything but the sensation in itself was nauseating. It only lasted a few seconds at most but it had felt like an eternity.

When you felt yourself on stable ground again and able to breathe you quickly ran into your bathroom and vomited like there was no tomorrow.

Wait a minute… you thought.

Your bathroom?

Looking around you confirmed that you were indeed back in your grandparent’s home, in your room to be precise. But how did you get here so fast?

Walking slowly out of the bathroom you saw that Draco was standing awkwardly by your bed, awaiting your return from the rather unpleasant sight in the next room.

“Sorry, I didn’t really have time to warn you that first-timers usually get sick,” he told you a bit sheepishly.

“What did we just do?” you asked a little bewildered.

“Something magical” he laughed a little.

You rolled your eyes as a smile grew on your face. He was teasing you.

“I gathered that much, thank you!” you huffed before walking over to your bed and plopping down.

He was smiling down at you now and for a moment you seemed to get lost in his expression. Something about his face at that moment… felt almost like home to you.

But you weren’t about to let yourself get caught up in such thoughts.

You cleared your throat a little before glancing to the side at your nightstand. The only thing that sat on it was a small candle and an old digital clock. You weren’t staring for any particular reason other than not wanting to look at him any longer.

Then you suddenly remembered. The pictures. You still had them in your jacket pocket. It may be a little awkward now but you figured he had the right to see them and maybe even shed some light on when each one was taken.

But just as you were reaching into your pocket he spoke.

“I suppose I should be going then”.

You glanced back up to meet his eyes as your hand slowly retreated from your pocket; nothing came with it.

“Okay, I’ll see you again… when you find out how to fix me” you replied with a little chuckle, even though you knew it wasn’t really a laughing matter.

“I promise” He smiled at you softly. He stared at you for what seemed like a long while before turning away and with another mumble of syllables and a loud crack he made himself vanish just as before. Except for this time you stayed where you were.

-

It was three days of complete silence.

Not in the literal sense but you hadn’t heard another word from Draco. You certainly hadn’t gone near his house since. Well, something of that size couldn’t really be called a house but the term was broad enough to you and mansion just felt… so unnatural.

Walking around outside your grandparent’s home you closed your eyes as the sunlight bathed down on you. A slight wind was beginning to pick up and something about the way it rustled your clothes made you feel so free.

Which was a rather welcomed feeling considering how lost and confused you’d been lately. In a way, you wished that you’d never even found that box. Never saw the pictures. Why couldn’t your lost memories just stay that way? But it was too late. Because once you knew they were lost… well, you just had to find them.

When you opened your eyes you jumped back slightly. Shocked to see someone standing maybe fifteen feet from you. It was a woman. She stood so still you could’ve sworn you were imagining it. But she was definitely real. She was tall and thin, quite elegant really, and her long brown hair was done up nicely around her head. She wore a long purple and black dress that wrapped around her body as though it was made just for her. Her skin was pale but not in a sickly way. Overall it was like she was from a completely different world than your own.

You just stared at each other in silence before she simply turned around and started walking away from you.

The whole encounter gave you goosebumps and you felt completely frozen to the spot as you watched her figure slowly fade in the distance.

Who the hell was that?

-

By the time you had finished dinner with your grandparents, it was nearly half-past seven and they were sure to go to bed soon. You, however, had much on your mind. That strange encounter with the woman from earlier was still stuck in your mind. The way she stared at you was almost disturbing… as though she was evaluating you for something. You didn’t bother to ask your grandparent’s about her because you had an inkling that they were just as clueless as you.

Making your way up to your room you decide to try and forget about it so that you could at least have a peaceful night’s sleep.

However, any hope of that vanishes from your mind as soon as you stepped into your room. For there stood in the middle of your room was none other than Draco himself.

His back was to you but he turned as he heard you come in.

“Sorry for the intrusion” he choked out before clearing his throat a little and twisting to face you completely, his hand falling to his side.

Something was off.

As you shut the door behind you, you walked closer to him, studying his features intensely.

His eyes were bloodshot and wet, the surrounding skin was red and puffy. His body was slightly rigid and as your eyes trailed down to his hand you saw that he was holding the pictures of the two of you in his hand.

He was… crying while looking at them.

Your face twisted into confusion which was quickly replaced by pity, as you reached up to touch his face softly.

He jolted a little at your touch as his eyes widened.

You didn’t want to overstep but you couldn’t help it. Whenever someone looked so helpless in front of you it was like you went into a different state of mind completely. Your heart ached as you took in his sorrowful state and you wanted nothing more at that moment but to comfort him.

So without another word, you wiped the lingering tears from his eyes and slowly embraced him.

At first, his body was tense against your own, completely in shock by the sudden contact. But eventually, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around you in return.

“Are you ok?” you asked him in a whisper, still hugging him as you began to rub your hand on his upper back in an attempt to soothe him.

You felt him let out a shaky breath before he sighed a little.

“I’m better now”.

Pulling away from him you looked up to meet his eyes. His face was only inches from yours and for some reason being so close was making you a little nervous. But you didn’t pull away further, not yet anyway.

“I’m glad” you smiled at him.

He stared down at your face with a look of conflict before he began to lean forward slightly.

At first, you were confused but as he got closer you realized what was happening and strangely enough, you didn’t make a move to stop it. Instead, you just stared back at him waiting for the moment his lips would meet yours.

But they never did.

Just before they were about to touch, he stopped himself. He pulled away completely and backed up a few steps before looking away from you.

You watched in confusion as he sighed in frustration and reached up to slide a shaky hand through his well-kept hair, completely messing it up.

Although… admittedly, he still looked good.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry,” he said with a notable hint of contempt in his voice.

“You didn’t do anything” you frowned. You weren’t sure if you were upset that he was beating himself up over it or… if it was something else you were disappointed about.

“But I almost did” he replied quickly.

“Draco, really it’s ok. It was just the moment. Don’t worry about it” you said trying to brush the whole thing off. Your feelings were beginning to confuse you.

Did you want him to kiss you?

“I promise I won’t do it again,” he said with a rather serious tone.

You simply nodded in response but didn’t miss the way your heart seemed to ache at his words. What exactly was happening to you?

“I can assure you I didn’t come here to cause such an awkward situation such as that,” he said while looking off to the side a little in disdain.

You raised a curious eyebrow as you studied his expression again.

“What did you come here for then?” you asked.

He turned to face you again as he spoke.

“I’ve found a healer”.

--------

AN:// Wow! I’m really sorry for the delay on this one. It feels like I’ve just been having the busiest year so far and we’re only in the second month. I neglected my writing for so long that this chapter came out a little rushed but I hope you all like this update regardless. Please let me know what you think and I promise that chapter 4 will come quicker than this one did!!

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader

[ofstormsandwolves]

The Parent-Teacher Night

Teen

Modern AU

Giles/Joyce, Buffy, Faith, Xander, Willow, Gwendolyn Post, Snyder

Swearing, implied/ referenced child abuse/ neglect

Part of Sunnydale 2019 (full order on AO3)

Read on AO3

Buffy Summers is not looking forward to Parent-Teacher Night. Particularly with Principal Snyder out to get her...

“Buffy, don’t forget we’ve got parent-teacher night tonight.”

At her mother’s words, Buffy froze with a spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth. She hadn’t exactly forgotten about parent-teacher night, she just hadn’t actively tried to remember it. Time was, she could have gotten away with just not mentioning it to her parents. But when your step-dad was the school librarian, it sort of became difficult to hide those sorts of things.

“Why do I have to go?” Buffy asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “Come to think of it, why do you have to go?”

Joyce fixed her daughter with a look. “To talk to your teachers,” she said pointedly. “To find out how you’re settling in.”

“But Giles works there,” Buffy argued. “If one of my teachers had a problem with me, they’d have already spoken to him about it.”

The man himself was simply watching the conversation unfold as he leaned against the kitchen counter sipping tea and reading the paper. He glanced in Buffy’s direction, and she glared back at him, hoping he picked up on how unhelpful he was being.

“Well, I still want to meet your teachers,” Joyce retorted, and her tone left no room for arguments. “I’ll meet you and Rupert in the school library at five, and we’ll go see them.”

Clenching her jaw and realising she wasn’t going to win this particular battle, Buffy reluctantly turned back to her breakfast.

The car ride to school was tense and silent, Buffy choosing to scowl out the window rather than talk to Giles. To his credit, he seemed to pick up on the fact she didn’t want to talk, and he didn’t force conversation on her. But when they reached the school parking lot, he cut the engine and turned to her.

“There really is no need to worry about tonight, you know,” he said, and his tone was somewhere between caring and amused. Buffy was glad he found the whole thing so damn amusing. “I’ve had no complaints from any of your teachers, and while your grades are perhaps a little lower than your mother and I would like, they aren’t bad and we know you’re working hard.”

But that didn’t exactly reassure Buffy. “Principal Snyder hates me though,” she reminded her step-dad seriously. “He’s constantly watching me like I’m some sort of criminal!”

“Buffy, Principal Snyder hates everybody,” Giles responded with a small smile. “He even hates me. And your mother is aware of that, so do try not to worry.”

Buffy fixed her step-father with an unconvinced look then, before climbing out the car. She heard Giles sigh, before he too got out the car. She set a fast pace towards the school, but somehow he managed to grab his bag, lock the car, and fall into step beside her.

“I’m sure it won’t be anywhere near as bad as you’re thinking,” Giles said calmly despite the brisk pace they were walking at. “It’s a fresh start, Buffy. And like I said, your mother and I know how hard you’re working.”

Buffy came to a halt just in front of the steps leading up to the school, and fixed her step-dad with a look yet again. “But what if it’s not enough? What if, however hard I work, I’ve still screwed everything up? I bet Snyder can’t wait to kick me out of the school! And what then?”

“That’s not going to happen, Buffy,” Giles argued, exasperated. “Really, you’re getting ahead of yourself. How about we just get through the day, yes?”

Jaw clenched, Buffy glared up at the school building for several moments. “I’ll see you later,” she said suddenly.

Giles could only watch as she stormed up the steps to the building.

 By the time five o’clock rolled around, Buffy was a jittery mess. She and the others had arrived in the library after sixth period, but while her friends had got on with their homework Buffy had fidgeted and paced and generally panicked.

“Geez, B, I don’t get the big deal,” Faith said with a frown as Buffy paced the library. “So what if some stupid teachers don’t like you?”

Jaw clenched, Buffy shook her head in frustration. “It’s not about whether or not they like me,” she argued. “It’s about whether or not I’ve completely screwed things up.”

Willow was watching Buffy worriedly, an anxious expression on her face. “But you haven’t screwed things up, Buffy. I mean, sure, there was the whole fire and graffiti thing in L.A but- but that’s in the past!”

It was then that the doors to the library opened, and Joyce stepped in looking a little anxious. “I’m not late, am I?” she asked as she crossed the floor. “I was a little late leaving the gallery.”

Buffy gave her mom a tight smile. “It’s fine. Giles is in the office.” She nodded towards the office then, but Joyce didn’t move.

“So, these must be your friends,” Joyce stated, smiling at Willow, Xander, and Faith who were gathered around the table. “It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Buffy and Rupert.”

Buffy rolled her eyes at that, and was relieved when Giles chose that moment to come out of his office.

“Ah, Joyce.” He greeted his wife with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, before turning to the children. “I’m going to have to lock the library up now. Were you three waiting for anyone?”

“I told Gwen I’d meet her in the student lounge,” Faith shrugged, shoving her half-finished science homework into her bag and crumpling it as she did so.

Xander got to his feet. “Well, lucky for me my parents don’t care enough to come to parent-teacher night.” He flashed a smile at Giles and Joyce, who both looked marginally uncomfortable with this news. “So me and Will are heading off.”

Giles frowned at that. “Willow? Your parents aren’t coming either?”

The redhead smiled and shook her head as she stood. “No, they’re away for work. They’re at a lecture in Rhode Island. They’re psychologists.”

“And you’re home alone?” Joyce asked, not looking remotely pleased about what she was hearing. “I hope it’s only a few days.”

“A week,” Willow shrugged. Seeing the looks on Joyce’s and Giles’s faces, she quickly scrambled to cover. “I- It’s ok though, I’m kinda used to it. And Xander’s coming over for pizza!”

The boy nodded eagerly at that, and Joyce pursed her lips before fishing a notepad and pen out of her purse and writing something down.

“I know you’ve probably already got Buffy’s cell number,” she said as she tore the page off the pad and crossed the room to push it into Willow’s hands. “But there’s our home number, in case you need anything.”

Willow didn’t seem to know what to do with that, and gave Joyce a tentative smile. “Oh, uh, thank you Mrs Giles.”

“It’s Joyce, dear,” Joyce responded with a small smile. “And I expect you to use that number if you have to, am I clear?”

Willow nodded at that, seemingly a little less uncertain than a moment or so before. Then she turned to Xander. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” he nodded, and the pair of them moved as one towards the door.

Buffy and Faith followed, and Joyce and Giles brought up the rear. As Giles switched the lights off and locked the doors, Joyce, Buffy, and Faith stood to one side to wait for him.

“Is it just your mother who’s coming to parent-teacher night, Faith?” Joyce asked suddenly.

“Mom,” Buffy started uncomfortably, “Gwen’s not-”

But Faith shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine, B,” she said, before turning to Joyce. “Gwen’s my adopted mom. My real parents fucked off when I was little, I don’t really remember them.”

“Oh,” Joyce said, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine,” Faith repeated, flashing Joyce a smile. “Gwen’s not that bad. Hell, she adopted me so I shouldn’t really complain. And besides, I don’t go in for that sob-story shit anyway. I’m not looking for sympathy or anything.”

“No,” Giles agreed as he joined the three women, “but if Snyder hears you swearing, you’ll be looking for a way out of detention.”

Despite Giles’s stern expression, Faith smirked at him.

“Yeah, and you know I’d find it, G. Anyway, speaking of finding stuff, I’d better go look for Gwen.”

She set off down the corridor then, and while Giles and Buffy were a little amused, Joyce seemed a little dumbfounded.

“So Faith’s, uh, nice,” she managed after a moment, looking to her husband for support.

“I’ll admit she has a nasty swearing habit,” Giles conceded as he started to lead Buffy and Joyce down the corridor, “but she really isn’t all that bad.”

Buffy tried not to notice how uncertain her mother looked.

 Despite Buffy’s initial nerves, it seemed that things were going fairly well. Dr Gregory seemed quite optimistic regarding Buffy’s work, even if she did sometimes seem to struggle with focusing in class, and Mrs Barton said much the same. In fact, almost all of her teachers had one thing in common; they thought Buffy was doing well, but an extra little bit of effort wouldn’t hurt.

“How much more effort do they want?” Buffy grumbled as they left the French classroom.

“Honey, this is all good,” Joyce reminded her daughter with a smile. “I hope you realise how proud Rupert and I are of you.”

With a hesitant smile, Buffy looked up at her parents. “You’re not mad?”

Giles frowned. “Of course not. Considering how difficult the last six or seven months have been, we’re very pleased with how well you’ve settled here.” He gave her a small smile. “And I did tell you not to worry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buffy said, though she couldn’t help but smile. “Quit rubbing it in.”

“I think we might need to make tonight a special dinner,” Joyce said as they headed through the school. “How does takeout sound?”

Buffy was about to answer, but before she could Principal Snyder appeared in front of them, looking frustrated.

“Mrs Giles?” he asked Joyce, point-blank ignoring Giles and Buffy altogether.

Joyce frowned. “Yes?”

“Principal Snyder,” the man said. “I need to talk to you in the office.”

Joyce looked to her husband then, a little confused and taken aback by the man.

“Will it take long?” Giles asked, pulling Snyder’s attention onto him. “We were about to head home. Buffy has homework.”

Fixing the other man with an annoyed look, Snyder took a moment to reply. “It will take as long as it takes, Mr Giles.” Then, looking back to Joyce, he added: “If you’d like to follow me.”

With a final confused look between them, Joyce and Giles reluctantly fell into step behind Snyder.

 The man set a brisk pace towards his office, never stopping to see if they were following. When they reached the office, Faith was stood outside, arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the wall.

“B,” she grinned, before turning her attention to Giles and Joyce. “Man, G, you must have done something real bad to be summoned to the principal’s office. You too, Mrs G.”

Snyder fixed Faith with an annoyed look, before opening the door and gesturing for Giles and Joyce to step through. When Buffy went to follow, Snyder stepped between her and the door, glaring at her.

“Miss Summers, why don’t you wait out here?”

And before Buffy could process what was happening, Snyder had stepped inside the office and shut the door.

“What was that about?” Buffy asked, turning to Faith.

The brunette grinned, and shrugged. “God knows. He’s got Gwen in there too. Bet he’s trying to rat us out, or something.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. “But we haven’t done anything!”

“Like that would stop Snyder,” Faith grumbled, before catching a look at the other girl’s panicked expression. “Chill, B. It’s five by five. G-man knows we’ve not done anything wrong, and Snyder hasn’t got a single thing he can pin on us.”

Heaving out a sigh, Buffy slumped down to sit on the floor. Faith joined her a moment or two later.

Buffy looked to Faith with a frown. “This is going to take ages, isn’t it?”

 Inside the principal’s office, Joyce and Giles had been a little surprised to find another woman already waiting. She had dark hair, and was smartly dressed, and looked a little surprised to see Snyder entering with two more parents.

“This is Mrs Post,” Snyder said as he moved to take his seat behind his desk. “She’s Faith’s adoptive mother. Mrs Post, this is Mr and Mrs Giles, Buffy Summers’ mother and step-father.”

But rather than looking at Giles or Joyce, Gwen was fixing Snyder with a glare. “You do realise,” she said sharply, “that being Faith’s adoptive mother makes me her mother?”

“What are you getting at?” Snyder huffed.

“What I’m getting at,” Gwen responded, “is that there is no need to stress the ‘adoptive’ part. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t.”

As Giles and Joyce settled in the two remaining seats facing the desk, Snyder pointedly ignored Gwen’s comments.

“I’m sure you are well aware by now,” Snyder told them with an annoyed look on his face, “but your daughters have been... Associating with one another.”

“Buffy and Faith are friends, yes,” Giles said with a frown. “Is that really why we’re here? So you can inform us of their friendship?”

“You are here, Mr Giles, so I can inform you that your daughters are troublemakers who have sought each other out in order to destroy school property and prank people.”

Giles and Joyce shared a baffled look at that, and Gwen arched an eyebrow.

“And do you have proof of this?” Gwen asked. “I’ve already spoken with several of Faith’s teachers, and nobody raised any concerns of troublemaking to me.”

“We’ve had the same with Buffy,” Joyce agreed, looking to Gwen as she spoke. “Everyone seems very pleased with how she’s settling in.”

Giles noted, with some amusement, that Joyce’s and Gwen’s apparent agreement was already frustrating Snyder.

“Regardless of what the other faculty members are saying,” Snyder announced loudly, and he gave a pointed look at Giles as he spoke, “I am telling you that I will not tolerate your children disrupting my school!”

“But they’re not,” Joyce reasoned. “They go to homework club every day after school, where Rupert keeps an eye on them. He’s never had an issue with them.” She looked to her husband. “Right?”

Trying hard to keep the smirk off his face as Snyder seemed to get angrier, Giles nodded. “Right. And they are, of course, friends with Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris as well. The four of them are very well-behaved.”

Gwen seemed quite pleased to hear this. “Well then,” she said, getting to her feet, “why are we here? I’m sorry, Principal Snyder, but unless you have any genuine concerns about Faith’s schooling...”

“Your daughter has befriended an arsonist!” Snyder said suddenly, jumping to his feet.

Gwen froze, a frown on her face, and Giles and Joyce both stared at the principal in anger.

“Buffy Summers is an arsonist,” Snyder continued, and there was a look of malicious glee that spread across his face as he spoke. “She was arrested for participating in arson and vandalism at Hemery high school in Los Angeles, and was expelled as a result. Is that really the sort of person you want Faith associating with, Mrs Post?”

Furious, Joyce got to her feet before Gwen could speak. “How dare you! First of all, Buffy was not charged with arson, she had nothing to do with the fire! She was coerced by older students to tag along, and she had no idea what they were planning. And secondly, we were promised when we enrolled her here that she would be allowed a fresh start!”

“Not at the expense of corrupting other pupils, Mrs Giles,” Snyder sneered before turning his attention to Gwen. “Although now I think about it, I do recall one or two unsavoury marks on Faith’s permanent record too. What was it again, Mrs Post? Booby-trapping classroom doors; TP-ing the entire gym; breaking into the faculty room to swap the sugar for salt... I could go on, but I think Mr and Mrs Giles get the idea.” He fixed the three other adults with a cold smirk then and leaned back in his chair. “So with all that in mind, I’m sure you can understand why I was alarmed to hear that Miss Summers and Miss Lehane had become friends.”

“They’ve done nothing wrong,” Giles snapped. “How dare you hold past mistakes or poor decisions against them!”

“But how do we know those mistakes and poor decisions are in the past, Mr Giles?” Snyder countered, and it was clear he was enjoying the whole thing far too much. “No. The only way to ensure that they do not cause any trouble is pre-emptive action. Starting tomorrow, I do not want Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane associating with one another.”

“This is ridiculous,” Gwen protested. “You have no right to force the girls not to see one another. I won’t allow you to do this.”

“This isn’t about what you’ll allow, Mrs Post, this is about what I am going to do. Talking to you tonight was simply a formality.”

“Then we’ll go to the school board,” Joyce responded sharply. “You can’t ban the girls from being friends, it’s ridiculous.”

“Indeed,” Gwen agreed. “I’m sure the school board would be quite interested in hearing about this.”

Snyder seemed to pale then, as Joyce and Gwen glared down at him as one. As angry as he was, Giles couldn’t help but be amused. It served Snyder right for trying to pit Joyce and Gwen against each other.

Jaw clenched, Snyder seemed to consider his options for a moment. “I’ll be watching your girls very closely,” he ground out after a moment. “So much as a whiff that they are planning something and I will not hesitate to keep them on separate sides of the school campus.”

“Well,” Giles said, getting to his feet, “we’ll bear that in mind, Principal Snyder. But I highly doubt that would keep the girls from spending time together outside of school.”

Ignoring the enraged look on the principal’s face, he instead moved to open the office door. Joyce and Gwen filed out, and just before he stepped out, Giles glanced back at the man behind the desk.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Principal Snyder. Have a good night.”

 “How bad was it?” Buffy asked worriedly as she and Faith followed their parents down the corridor.

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about,” Joyce insisted, giving the girls a rather unconvincing smile. “Just a little misunderstanding.”

Gwen still looked furious, and Faith wasn’t sure if she was amused or concerned about that. “How that man is running a school, I don’t know,” the woman huffed in frustration. “He’s not fit to be in charge of a paper bag.”

“At least now you know I wasn’t lying when I told you the principal’s a rat,” Faith grinned.

All three adults fixed her with a look, but the brunette remained unbothered.

“Yes, well, ‘rat’ is one way to describe Principal Snyder,” Giles muttered.

They made their way out to the school parking lot in a tense silence, all of the adults apparently still stewing over Snyder’s comments in his office. Buffy, Giles, and Joyce were just heading in the direction of Giles’s car when Gwen stopped them.

“I can’t say I wasn’t a little surprised by some of the comments Principal Snyder made,” she admitted to Joyce and Giles, who shifted uncomfortably, “but then I’m sure you felt the same.” She gave a meaningful look towards Buffy and Faith, who had gravitated towards each other and were frowning at their parents in confusion. “And given the principal’s attitude and approach to the situation, I can’t help but feel that he is rather... Selective regarding what he wanted us to know. I know for a fact that some of the things he told you were, shall we say, oversimplified for instance.”

Buffy and Faith exchanged a look at that. Whatever their parents were discussing didn’t sound that good, and knowing Principal Snyder he’d had nothing but awful things to say about them.

“Unfortunately, Principal Snyder sees what he wants to see,” agreed Giles. “He certainly didn’t give you the full details.”

Gwen looked unsurprised by that, and nodded, sighing. “That’s what I thought.” She paused. “Perhaps we should discuss this further. Get everything out in the open, so to speak.”

Joyce shifted uneasily, and looked to her husband briefly. “I suppose so,” she agreed after a moment. “Are you free this weekend?”

“I am,” Gwen replied. “When would be good for you?”

Joyce responded by digging through her purse and pulling out one of her business cards. “We’re fine for whenever,” she said as she handed the card over. “But my cell number is on there, so just let me know. We can sort the details then.”

And with one final smile between them, the three adults parted company, leaving Faith and Buffy blinking after them.

“What just happened?” Faith asked.

“I don’t know,” Buffy admitted slowly. “But I don’t think it was good.”

With one last look between them, Buffy and Faith reluctantly trailed after their parents.

#buffy fanfic #buffy summers #faith lehane #rupert giles #joyce summers #xander harris #willow rosenberg #buffy the vampire slayer #Sunnydale 2019 verse

[silvernightwalker]

Why princes like their happy endings

Warnings: making out, anger, bit of angst, swearing, mention of a panic attack, happy ending.

Pairing: Prinxiety

Plot: the tension between Virgil and Roman gets too much and eventually they explode. In good way. Sort of...

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Virgil woke up that morning with another headache. He groaned and buried his face in the pillow, tucking the heavy blanket over him to shield himself from the world. Which was obviously not working.

A soft knock was heard and the voice of Patton followed. "Virgil? Are you awake? Breakfast is prepared. Come down when you're ready, kiddo".

Virgil was glad that Patton knew how he had to wake him up, because he really couldn't handle an obnoxious Roman or a stoic Logan. Deceit was even worse, since they weren't really on 'good terms'.

He loved the sides, no doubt, but since a while ago a certain prince made him have feelings he didn't want to feel. His knees got weak, he got easily flustered and could only think about him. And it all happened when they started to accept one another and slowly got to spend more time together. It was mostly Roman who visited Virgil to watch a movie or Netflix. Or simply talk. Sometimes Virgil would use Roman to practice on with makeup. They still had their heated discussion, but every now and then Roman would give him a reassuring or even fond smile.

And recently Virgil wanted more. He felt the need to have those lips on his own, to have his touches on his skin. He wanted him in his bed, their naked bodies moving in sync and receiving and giving pleasure. But Virgil knew he didn't stand a chance since the prince never gave a hint of liking him back. So he never made a move, afraid to destroy whatever they had.

Virgil tried to stay in bed for as long as he could, but he knew he would disappoint the moral trait if he didn't show up. So he got up, groaning again and grabbed his hoodie. He took some painkillers to suppress his headache and eventually walked out, into the hallway and down the stairs.

He already heard Roman talking loud and in his arrogant way like he always did, while Logan ignored him and read the paper. As soon as Patton saw him his eyes lit up and he put some scrambled egg on his plate and made a coffee.

Virgil gave him a small smile and sat down, sipping the freshly brewed coffee. He had just taken a bite from his food when he felt a pair of eyes on him. He looked up and saw Roman staring at him.

Oh no. What have I done? What is wrong? Is my hair weird? Or did he say something and now waiting for an answer while I didn't hear it? His anxiety flared up, but he locked eyes with Roman and growled: "what?".

Roman was simply mesmerized by the fact that Virgil wasn't wearing his usual sweatpants and walked around in only boxers and a hoodie that revealed his beautiful, pale legs. He swallowed and averted his eyes. "Nothing, you just don't look very good".

"I never look good, so let's move on". Roman snorted. "I beg to differ", he mumbled. Virgil's head shot up, his eyes widening. They locked eyes and stared at each other while the tension slowly became strong and heavy. Patton and Logan quickly fled the kitchen with the excuse to help Thomas with things.

No. No not again. Don't get your hopes up. He didn't mean it like that.

His heart was beating fast, but somehow he managed to stay calm and growled. "Shut up, prince Worthless. I'm not in the mood". This time Roman growled back. "You never are" , he shot back.

Virgil's hand clenched around the fork and smacked it on the table, making Roman flinch slightly. "Well I'm sorry for not being able to enjoy life and have fun like the rest. I'm sorry for not walking around with an egocentric personality that makes the air around me smell worse than a trash can. Honestly, I'm worried your head will get too big to fit through the door one day".

Roman's hands slowly turned into fists and he slammed it down on the table, making the anxious man flinch visibly. "The only trash can here is you", Roman said with clenched teeth.

Virgil's heart broke and he was sure everybody could hear it. His lip trembled and he was on the edge of crying, but the anger inside him, slowly turning into rage, took over. "At least I know what I am and I'm not pretending to be more in every pathetic way".

"Enough!", Roman yelled and he stood up from his chair, looming over Virgil, "I am so done with your negativity and self loathing! If you want to change it so much, do something about it instead of hiding yourself in your room. No wonder you're like this! That room is only darkness and depression! We on the other hand can provide you with love and happiness. You should rely on us!!".

Virgil stood up too, the chair falling on the ground from the force he used. "I can't rely on you, self centered moron!!". He held his face up, bravely facing to more dominant side.

"Why can't you rely on us? Why can't you rely on me?!", Roman screeched, feeling desperate and angry for hearing those hurtful words.

"BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND IT'S DRIVING ME CRAZY!!!", Virgil screamed.

And everything stopped. It was completely silent, only their heavy breathing filling the kitchen. Roman's face had a confused and surprised expression, mixed with a bit of relief. Virgil, who was now on the edge of a panic attack, pushed Roman back on the chair and tried to escape the kitchen. Unfortunately for him Roman got a hold on his wrist. He stumbled along with him since Virgil ran out in full speed and eventually pinned him against the wall.

And then Roman's lips were on Virgil's. His eyes widened, feeling how his body was trapped between Roman and the wall. He tried to fight him off, hitting his shoulders and chest while he squirmed against him. Roman kept his lips on his, not budging at all and eventually Virgil gave up.

Roman slowly broke the kiss and opened his eyes. He swallowed when he saw Virgil with beautiful red cheeks, breathing heavily and such inviting lips.

"You-", he said, but Virgil started fighting again and so Roman kissed him again, this time with more force. The moment his tongue darted out and licked Virgil's bottom lip in a begging manner, the anxious man lost all control and he moaned loud and long. His lips parted and immediately Roman's tongue invaded his mouth, tasting him and finally, after all those months, letting him feel it.

He pressed himself against the fanciful side and felt his hands slide down to his ass. Virgil jumped a bit, wrapping his legs around his waist while Roman held him up, stroking the soft skin of his thighs. This time Roman moaned too and walked them to the kitchen counter.

The kiss was frantic, passionate, desperate and mixed with a bit of anger, their breath mingling together. Virgil spread his legs a bit and Roman immediately pressed himself against Virgil, earing a moan from him. They were both hard at this point and Virgil tried to get Roman's shirt off.

And even though Roman really, really wanted to have sex with him, he gently stopped him by lacing their fingers. They would surely get to it, but he wanted it to be pure and magical. Plus, at this point they would destroy Patton's innocence and Logan's will to ever eat here again. And live.

Eventually they broke the kiss, the need for air too much and instead gave each other short, soft kisses. They slowly came back to earth, Virgil's hands clutching Roman's shirt. He felt his anxiety, that was completely broken down by Roman's passionate kissing, slowly returning. They had to talk about what happened.

Slowly Virgil looked up and met Roman's eyes that held a very fond and tender look. He swallowed, tears appearing in his eyes. Why is he looking at me like that?

Roman leaned his forehead against Virgil's, smiling softly and cupped his face to caress his cheek. He was very surprised by this sudden development and he had a lot of questions and an apology to make, but there was one thing he was absolutely sure about.

"I love you too".

Virgil blinked, completely dumbfounded and staring at him. "You...do? What? Why?".

Roman smiled. "Because every trash can needs its trash bag".

Virgil whimpered, burying his nose in Roman's neck. "I think you're a beautiful trash can though".

Roman laughed and stroked his hair before he gave him another, deep kiss. Virgil moaned again, feeling so desperate and needy for him and it seemed liked Roman felt the same.

The prince carried him off the counter, holding him in his arms and Virgil quickly wrapped his arms around his neck. They left the kitchen while Roman walked them upstairs and started kissing Virgil's neck, suckin red marks. Virgil closed his eyes, enjoying the sparks of pleasure it send and mumbled:

"Now I understand why Disney princes like happy endings".

@fandermom

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety

[shewhodoesnotexist]

Okay, so The Rise of Skywalker. Saw it two weeks ago but it’s hard to do anything when you have so much free time ;) Two weeks ago I wrote the following: I’m a little dumbfounded… It felt like a string of fan theories put together, with a video game mode of running after stuff from one place to another xD they put in so much stuff but somehow not enough… Feeling? And I think this still sums up my impression the best. Nevertheless:

So we begin with some Sith artefacts none-one’s ever heard of… This is so reminiscent of some fan videos and theories I got into after TFA, many of them based on Legends/the old EU, things that never appeared in the movies. I’m fond of fan theories, but this just didn’t fit in at all here, and seemed so… artificial, video game-like: suddenly there’s a thing we need to find and then it’ll be fine! But first we need to find this thing and go somewhere else and do another thing and then we’ll reach the place!

Like… The Last Jedi was built around characters with personalities, their interactions and conflicts, and for all its faults that made it engaging. This felt completely flat. It was just going from place to place, maybe except for some of the Kylo & Rey scenes, there was barely any feeling in it.

Also, some scenes were so artificial and obvious set-ups, like the woman with the necklace demanding Rey’s full name – maybe she’s from a planet with different naming conventions, how do you know, lady? – just so she can say she’s nobody and then have the necklace taken by Kylo, and the woman at the end, so that Rey can say she’s Rey Skywalker, and Luke giving Rey two lightsabers so that she can give one to Ben (the scene itself was awesome, yes, but the set-up was painfully transparent). Devices, yes, but don’t be so blatant about it.

What was the point of that Threepio stunt? It’s introduced as a heartbreaking sacrifice, then it turns out nobody cares, then it’s played for laughs, and then it’s reversed. Really?

The Palpatine thing is such a clumsily done retcon, honestly. Yes, he was the ultimate Big Bad in the previous trilogies, so in that aspect it kind of makes sense, but in regards to Rey... They made themselves nobodies? Yeah, no, Kylo’s vision and words from TLJ don’t fit this, you can’t square that one. And so Rey’s arc from The Last Jedi is neatly undone and she matters because of her family and very nearly (see below) is defined by her ancestry. Honestly, whichever version you prefer, it would be better to stick to one. That’s not getting into the problems of selling your children.

And really… Rey suddenly and accidentally bursting out some Force lighting supposedly shows “who she really is”? When has the Force ever worked that way? And of course it only happens when it’s convenient. And suddenly “no-one knows me”. Great, now you can be emo together.

And why would Palpatine even want to have descendants? As a backup plan?

And that’s not getting into the fact that apparently Palpatine had a son, who was alive during OT, who somehow rebelled against him, and that’s a story potentially more interesting than this movie, which is ignored. Actually… all right, possibly Rey’s father was not Force-sensitive, which was why Palpatine wanted Rey specifically, but the wording (“to protect you”) makes it sound as if all that rebellion happened only after Rey was born and he realised Palpatine’s intentions towards her, which raises further questions. But enough on that.

It is also incidentally implied that Stormtroopers who defected are Force-sensitive, and that, too, is ignored. What Finn wanted to tell Rey could be that he loved her or that he was Force-sensitive, but, of course, it is never revealed. (Wait wait, apparently it was confirmed it was about the Force. He does talk about how he understands her several times, so that makes sense.)

Speaking of which, once again there is an effort to humanise the Stormtroopers… which is then once again ignored.

Also speaking of which, for someone raised to be mindless soldier, Finn has had quite a love life – like, approximately four possible love interests?

Remember when there was a sandworm in one of The Hobbit movies and people were joking that Legolas’ blue eyes were due to Spice? Now we can do that with SW, too!

Remember when I said I didn’t believe the Knights of Ren even existed? You probably don’t. But they might as well not. For all the mystery and speculation they turn out to be slightly more elite mooks and are killed in approximately their second scene. Even the Praetorian Guards were more impressive.

Hux being the spy is… silly. Wasn´t he super into the First Order? Now he´s undermining it just to spite Kylo. But it is rather funny.

I feel that having Leia start a Jedi training and then quit due to visions takes away from her character. What’s wrong with preferring a political/military career while being Force-sensitive? But no, she needs to have run through the woods with a lightsaber and bested Luke, of course.

Plus, Leia of all people attacking Kylo… This is upsetting. At least have her appear to him as she dies, too. I mean, like so much in this movie, the idea itself was interesting, but the execution undermined it.

I liked Rey healing Kylo’s wound, but it is true that the sudden introduction of Force healing (no matter its earlier introduction in The Mandalorian) raises some questions about why it’s never appeared before.

I am amazed at Adam Driver’s acting. The moment Ben comes back to the Light, you can see it in his face. It’s unbelievable how much he manages to convey. That man is a gift and I am happy it was not Eddie Redmayne, sorry

The ship in the desert, maybe, but you can’t tell me Luke’s X-Wing is readily functional after having been who-knows-how-many years underwater. That’s just ridiculous.

What was that football stadium. Who were these people. What was going on.

What was even Palpatine’s plan? Was it that because Rey was related to him, he could body surf into her and continue ruling, as some people are interpreting it? Or was it the old “strike me with your hate/anger and complete your turn to the dark side”, in which case it wasn’t even all that relevant that they were related, as he had another Force-sensitive family to prey upon already? And then it turns to “I can just suck power out of you two and it’s good enough”.

How was Ben able to get that planet unnoticed? That’s not to mention another falling-apart ship. Oh, but his entrance, with a blaster, and then passing the lightsabre between them, that was incredibly cool :D

A fleet of planet-killing ships, fine, we needed to up the stakes yet again, but they still have a single weak point… I guess there’s not point complaining about that.

We saw Ben smile :) It was so beautiful :) And they kissed :)

...aaand then of course he had to die *sigh*

I haven’t heard the word “dyad” in that context before, but I have read a bit about Force bonds, and aren’t you supposed to completely devastated after the other one dies, as if something is torn out of your soul? Even leaving that aside, wasn’t Rey rather fond of him? Show some grief, maybe? No?

We get to the end, and we are remembering that we are watching a movie called “The Rise of Skywalker”. All the Skywalkers and their descendants are dead. Solution: have Rey tell a conveniently placed rando she is a Skywalker and leave her to continue the Jedi and Skywalker legacy (the latter of which may not be so stellar, come to think of it). She is once again alone on a desert planet, but now she is different, and ready to set out and do… something. But on the other hand, she’s alone on a desert planet again, so she ended up where she had begun (still alone!)… and so did the story of the Skywalker bloodline, on the planet both Anakin and Luke disliked so much and Leia had nothing to do with. All that to have a repeat shot. I’m not all that impressed.

On the whole this movie gives the impression that the filmmakers were trying to play it safe and pander to the fans, mostly to the fans who disliked TLJ and those who craved nostalgia, and distance themselves from TLJ as much as possible, while cramming a lot of material into the movie at the expense of emotional depth. There’s no time to explore this significant moment, we need to rush elsewhere! Many of the concepts could have worked much better if the had been given more time and focus, but the end result is a mess. Not to mention the ST as a whole feels inconsistent. And yes, I’m upset that Ben died! But that’s part of playing it safe, I’m afraid.

I’m not going to go into the last-minute editing controversy.

I watched the SCB review and they said it was a combination of Harry Potter, Avengers and GoT finales – very accurate ;)

Eh.

#star wars #the rise of skywalker #tros spoilers #sw spoilers #of me #ignore as appropriate

[71tenseventeen]

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life Too)-18

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

Warnings for sexual content, male pregnancy, non-hockey Sid. Sid and Taylor’s ages have been altered to fit the story.

Perpetual credit to my betas, @queen-alia and @icosahedonist as well as the GC and @ljummen.

Sid’s awake before Geno the next morning, feeling like he hasn’t eaten in days. He’s scrambling eggs when Geno comes shuffling in and tries to take over. “What you doing? You still sick, should be resting. I cook.”

“I can cook some eggs. I’m not that sick.”

Geno doesn’t look convinced and Sid finally sighs and goes to sit at the breakfast bar. “Fine, but I have to do something besides sleep all day. It’s getting old.”

“We find something to do, I’m promise.”

Except “something” turns out to be watching TV quietly on the couch which Sid grumpily tolerates until Geno fluffs a pillow and says nonchalantly, “Should kick back, relax a little,” and Sid is done.

Before he even has a moment to think about it, he’s on his feet flinging away the blanket that Geno had tried to tuck around him and stomping toward the back of the house.

Geno follows, wide eyed. “What you doing?”

“Anything, Geno! I will literally do anything right now that isn’t laying down and resting!”

“Was doctor’s orders!” He follows Sid through the back door and looks on with shock as Sid yanks his shirt off and tosses it to the side, charging towards the pool. “Sid, come on! What you even doing?”

“I,” Sid says, turning with a flourish, “Am going to take a swim. And then, I think I’ll take a walk. Hell, maybe I’ll join a fucking marathon. All I know is I. Am not. Laying down. Anymore!” With that he turns his back on Geno again and stomps down the pool stairs into the water.  

Geno watches from the edge, looking dumbfounded. “If you want to do something so bad could have just say so.”

Sid glares. “I did say so and you ignored me!”

“Only trying to do what doctor say!”

“Yeah, well, I just don’t seem to remember her saying I had to lay down until my brain fucking rots.”

“Don’t you think you being a little dramatic? No one say you have to do that. Just trying to make sure you rest! What so wrong with that?”

Sid narrows his eyes but instead of replying, he sticks his tongue out at Geno and then lets himself float onto his back, eyes drifting shut.

“Oh, that’s nice. So mature, Sid.”

“Can’t hear you! I’m swimming!”

And for a few moments Sid thinks maybe Geno has given up. At least until he feels the splash, tossing him onto his side. He surfaces, sputtering and glares at Geno again. “What the hell?”

“You want to swim! We swim!” Geno swans his arms out dramatically and floats onto his back—kicking copious amounts of water in Sid’s face in the process.

“Are you kidding me?” he sputters, once he’s cleared his eyes. Pursing his lips at the smug smile on Geno’s face he does the only thing he can. He leaps forward and wrestles Geno under the water.

Five minutes and lots of flailing later, Sid is leaning against the pool wall laughing so hard, he’s in tears. Geno is stretched out beside him still trying to stifle his own laughter as he leans his head back against the ledge. When he finally cracks an eye open, he grins at Sid. “Guess I’ve been a little bit pain in the ass.”

“Yeah. But I get it.”

“I’m sorry. All this is new to me, little bit scary. Sometimes feel like want to keep you in bubble—anything to keep you safe.”

“I haven’t given you enough credit for that. I’m sorry I was such a brat.”

Geno shrugs. “Is okay. You were right. Still need to live life, get exercise, do things.”

“That’s all I want.”

“I’m try to lighten up.”

“Thanks.”

“You ready to go in and nap now? Get some rest?”

Sid gapes at Geno in disbelief until he cracks a huge grin and laughs—at least until Sid tosses water in his face.  

They spend the next couple of hours swimming, walking around the property and making lunch together. And if Sid maybe naps a little on the couch afterwards, Geno is nice enough not to be too smug about it.

Geno’s up early for practice the next morning and he looks surprised to see Sid come into the kitchen fully dressed. “You’re up early,” he starts as Sid carefully avoids eye contact. He knows this isn’t going to go over well.

Sid sighs. “I have school.”

Geno narrows his eyes.”Sid—”

Sid cuts him off. “Geno, please don’t do this. I feel better and I have to go to school.”

Geno looks like he wants to say a lot more but, thankfully, he finally shakes his head. “Fine. You come back after school, though? Maybe I drive, drop you off and pick you up after classes.”

This is the part that Sid is dreading the most and he avoids Geno’s eyes as he zips up his bag, sucks in a breath before saying, “I have to work later.”

“You kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Sid really shouldn’t be so short with Geno but he knew this was going to be an issue. “Sorry. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Geno shrugs. “More concerned about your health right now.”

“The doctor said I could go back.”

“She say you can go back if you feel completely better. You don’t.”

“Geno, I’m fine.”

“You forget dizzy spell yesterday? You forget needing nap?”

Sid hasn’t forgotten and he doesn’t need Geno to remind him. There are a lot of things he wants to say but most of them would make him look like a petulant child so he settles for, “I’m going,” before he turns and walks out.

Guilt hits before he’s even on the highway but there’s nothing he can do about it. He has to go to school and work, there isn’t any other choice. Besides, he’s felt better every day and he feels fine now. He’ll text Geno when he gets to class.

Classes go fine. If Sid’s being honest, he’s definitely more tired than usual but he’s not dizzy and doesn’t feel sick so he counts it as a win. Geno still hasn’t replied to his earlier apology for leaving so abruptly but he sends another text anyhow, hoping it will help.

<Just thought I’d let you know I’m feeling okay, promise. Been to two classes and only two more to go.>

There’s no immediate reply but Sid doesn’t really expect one, knows that Geno had a full day of practice and meetings so he shoves his phone away and tries to focus.

His last class is a struggle. He’s tired, more tired than he expected to be and yeah, okay, he’s been taking a nap every day but that’s just not an option today so he pushes though. By the time it’s over he’s dragging. Just the thought of walking to the car is overwhelming, nevermind working his five hour shift.

He wishes things were different, that he had a choice.

By the time he gets back to his car he’s lightheaded and sweating. He sits with his head on the steering wheel, air conditioner running for several minutes and thinks of Geno. Maybe he was right. Maybe he shouldn’t be going to work like this.

But then Sidney remembers the stack of bills sitting on the desk in his apartment and he shoves all thoughts of calling in out of his mind. He has to go to work. He has to.

He’s cooled down and feels a little better by the time he gets to work. He thinks, hopefully, that even though he’ll be on his feet a lot it will be in the air conditioned shop so it will be fine. As long as he’s out of the heat, he’ll be fine.

It takes less than an hour for everything to go to shit. His boss is furious, griping in the background as Sid hunches over the toilet bowl, vision swimming. He’s not really sure how he manages to pull himself together enough to leave work, much less make it back to his apartment but, somehow, he does. If he can just lay down, just cool off and drink some water, he’ll feel better.

The cramping starts before he makes it to the couch, a sudden aching twinge spreading across his abdomen and lower back. And that—that’s new and Sid tries to swallow down the rising fear as he lowers himself.

“Okay,” he says to the empty room. “It’s okay. It was just from all the walking. It probably won’t happen ag—”

Another cramp, sharp and clenching, has him scrambling for his phone, panic rising in his chest. All he can think as he listens to the other line ring is that Geno was right and he was stubborn and rude and stupidly put the baby at risk for—for what? A job at the coffee shop? The call goes to voicemail and Sid lets out a desperate sound as he quickly calls again and then again, panic nearly choking him.

This time Geno picks up on the second ring, sounding out of breath. “Sid? Sorry, was in meeting.  What—”

“I’m cramping and I think it’s bad,” he blurts, cutting Geno off, voice shaking.

“Okay, need you stay calm. Where are you?”

“My apartment,” Sid says, eyes burning.

“Okay, listen to me. Want you to lay on side while you wait. I’m come get you.”

Sid shifts around until he’s laying. “Okay.”

“You laying down?”

“Yeah.” He swallows back a soft sob as he feels another cramp.

“Good. Just stay right there. I’m on way.” Sid has no idea how Geno is staying so calm but he’s never been more grateful.

“Geno I—I’m sorry. I’m so scared. You were right and I should have listened to you, I—”

“Hey,” Geno cuts him off and Sid can hear the jingle of car keys in the background. “Everything going to be okay.”

“But—”

“Sid, you have to listen. Going to come get you, take you to hospital, they take care. Everything will be okay. I’m promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, lower lip wobbling.

“You doing so good, Sid. I’m going to hang up now for couple minute, call doctor. Then call you right back. You keep phone right there, promise you answer.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Keep laying, keep breathe. I’m on my way.”

“Okay. Okay. Hurry.”

“I’m hurry. Promise.”

Sid swallows hard, clutching the phone to his chest while he waits.

Part 19

#Take My Hand #my fic #mpreg #sidgeno #rpf #part 18 #Happy Valentine's Day #don't hate me