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the-iyan · 1 year

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The Futile Climbing

Hi there, this is a story. It's written by the author known as T. Belfry. Tumblr has completely fucked the formatting so mind the odd indentations and messy paragraph placement. For a full reading see my Instagram @Nimnat Hope you enjoy!

Another key component of civilian public espionage that gets overlooked too many times is cacophonology. It’s like if the Charleston and the Yemenite Step found Skanking and Metaphysics alone at a party. And all four had a tumble between the sheets. Now to be perfectly fair to my fellow investi-Gators. I personally only learned it after I left the nation's elongated nipple.

I was at this home away from home in Rhode Island called the “Floating Floridian New England Barge&Gill”. I wasn’t fully licensed yet see, I had fled the state awaiting the Florida Department of Agriculture and Consumer Services Division of Licensing decision. I’m not a superstitious type, but I have found all clerical matters work swimmingly well so long as I’m not hanging around when it’s done.

Granted I’m not this place’s usual clientele. After the deceptively dingy dock was a dense forest of tulip tree tall and red wood-wide people. Thick layers of flannel, vinyl and denim so intricate Theseus himself would be left without a clue. I was like morning fog on the forest floor, slipping and sliding through angry leather work boots.

“Hi welcome to Floating Floridian New England Barge&Gill what can I get started for you today?” Mark practically growled at me. I let go of his leg and stood up.

“Sorry, Marp. Can I get food at the bar too?” I read his name tag wrong, so I thought his name was Marp.

“The bar’s closed, it’s 3 something in the morning. But if you’d like a table I could-”

“Say Marp, could I sit at the bar?”

“I just told you it’s closed. We aren't serving alcohol.”

“I know. Can I have a seat, at the bar?” Mark looked annoyed and confused.

“I’d still like just food Marp, I would just like it at the bar.”

I was attempting to clarify but I see in retrospect how that comes off as extremely condescending. Which explains how poorly Mark and I get along at first.

“What can I get you?” Behind Mark was a brick wall, with shelves cut into the material.

There was a metal gate over the booze, but you could see colors shimmering through. The place was lit with deep orange lights. All the noise and faces reflected off the bright bottles like demons hiding in flames. But the spirits inside were liquid glass, catching flickers and dancing with them.

“What do you boil your fries in?” I asked.

“Our fires?” he stopped filling my glass with sparkling water.

“Yeah, what oil? Do you use?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could you ask? Please?”

Mark left my cup half full. Which was an inconvenience because I actually was feeling quite thirsty. I saw my reflection in one of the bottles for a moment.

He didn’t blink. Two oily black eyes begging for a swim. His face was a dark mossy green. Thick hair flowed from his face like a hipster Jesus.

“Who are you?” The face didn’t say it with me. So, I knew it wasn’t mine at least.

He mouthed something. It must’ve been meaningful because he seemed very sorry to say it.

“I can’t hear you; can you hear me?”

He mouthed it again. Wherever he was it had the worst reception I have ever seen.

“We use peanut oil.” Mark came back.

“Thank you Marp! Can I have the endless fried shrimp and basket of fries hold the shrimp?”

“So you just went the fires?”

“Exactamundo Marp my friend.” I handed him the laminated menu with a smile. “And hold the ketchup!” I brought my vegan ketchup.

“What are you doing here?” Mark almost slammed the pitcher into the table.

“What am I doi-”

“Yeah!? You just ordered the fucking shrimp no shrimp.”

“I only wanted the fries. And I thought-”

“Dumbass there are no fires! There is no shrimp! This is a front. For drugs. Are you here. To buy drugs!”

“Oh! No, I’m good for now Marp. Not a lot of money so, water for me I guess.” I took a sip of my sparkling water, which he still hadn’t finished pouring.

“It’s $20 a glass. And my name Is Mark.” Mark began to walk away.

“Wait, why? Wait is this a full glass!? Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted any?” I despertly reached for his pitcher but my hands could not hook it before he left.

It was then that I noticed my glass was not only not filled all the way, but it’d seem someone had dropped an alka seltzer in my drink. Now don’t get me wrong here, I don’t just go around drinking any fizzy drink in sight. But you’ve got to understand my reasoning. That was a $20 glass of water, I didn’t wanna waste it.

How to know if you’re tripping 1.0.1

How do things feel? Touch memory always goes first for me. You know that feeling where you know you have been touched or have touched something. But the moment that sensation stops it feels like it never happened. I always check that first by touching my face. But this could also be the effect of a mild stroke so next.

How do things sound? Listen to some music and focus on that feeling. If it has depth of sound, rich tonality, and a smooth melody you may be high. When you lose your sense of self and environment, your appreciation for music skyrockets. But you could also just be listening to ELO. Or the Beach Boys.

III

How do you think? The final test requires a mirror or any reflecting surface, in my case it was a champagne bottle. Look at your face and think. Do I feel high? If the answer is yes, you may actually be high. If you said no? You’re hurling through space bud.

I have a fuzzy recollection of what happened next. I fought a dinosaur, killed a bee, stung a guy, and paid some lady to tail my ex for a month. But in either case I awoke at a dennies with a half-eaten plate of fries, and some vegan ketchup. My large pink shirt and green cargo shorts got replaced with a mankini, a constructor hat and three-piece shirt. My phone started to ring.

“Ahoy?” I used to answer the phone like a dick.

“Private dic for higher how may I help you?” I scooped cold fries into my mouth and listened through my chewing. From what I could make out, it was a companion of mine. She was calling to make sure I was ready for cycling that evening.

“Oh, absolutely I’m just having breakfast now.” She seemed confused by that answer, as it was sunset not rise. But I didn’t know that yet. I also had not known I was going cycling with her that evening. Apparently, somewhere in my stooper I had promised her I was going.

I swallowed my very cold fries and ran out of the door after leaving a 200% tip. I was met with an angry horde of people in the parking lot. All of whom had an issue with my ear bleeding solo singing to Dull Citrus. They told me so. In one sentence. In unison.

I sat outside in long white gym shorts and a green T-shirt. I have a collection of civilian clothes I had to raid to source the outfit though. She pulled in, we exchanged pleasantries and off we went to stationary bike rides.

Imagine a median the width of a house, that’s the city. Tall rectangular buildings on long rectangular blocks. With tight thin veins moving cars around like ants. Nestled amongst the grey and black was a little white corner with orange lights. Almost like a reverse orange. There was a large deep orange “1917” on the glass doors taller than Goliath and built for him judging by the heft of it. I had to dig my heels into the brick just to move it a sliver.

“Welcome to CycleTsar on Gee Ilses Rd. How can I help you?” She was the single most beautiful human I had ever seen. Her smile was lightning to my spine and her eyes melted you with warmth and kindness. In front of her reflection was the concierge who resembled an accountant in gym clothes. Nice, but accountant so.

“Yeah, we’re here for the...excuse me are those peppermint?” My companion took over while I stared at the glass mouth filled with loose mints. Not individually wrapped peppermints, not loose mint leaves. Just plain unwrapped mints in a bowl shaped like a mouth. I think I even saw stray hair in there somewhere.

“What size sir?” She was the size of a mollusk leaning on a rack of shoes that was so long it disappeared over the horizon.

“Do you have 13, men?” It’s very important to specify that point. Why can't there just be one system for all size feet? Who the hell knows. She rolled her eyes and started the trek down the rack. I looked around for my companion, but she disappeared somewhere.

“Here you go.” The shoes she was holding were almost pointed with a thick metal tooth on the bottom. But I was afraid she would ask for a tip, so I grabbed them and rushed down a hellish orange hallway to catch up with the only reason here. Who was laughing and talking with a group of sweaty toned statues calling themselves people.

The room was half window half brick façade. Against the window the company had provided small lockers under a row of benches. Against the wall were teas, lemonades, and water. Free, I assumed. There were a handful of us there. 18 total Not including myself. She had found herself the topic of conversation for three of them.

“Have you tried hot yoga here? The teache-” He was a young Idris Elba in neon green tanktop and white joggers. The man looked like he could bend a car.

“You should absolutely see my tattoo artist sh-” It would be unfair to describe this woman as anything but in peak human condition. Her eyes could draw real blood and her arms looked as dense as a neutron star.

“Do your shoes have Velcro too?” I was sitting down struggling to untie my own shoes.

As I struggled, and got a larger pair, the crowddispersed into a side room. Meaning we were standing alone essentially.

“I’m heading in. It’s going to be fun.” she smiled and headed into the abyss. I touched my face as I followed behind. The door gave way to an empty blackness for three seconds. Then a blinding white. To my right was a concave mirror 10 feet high and the length of the room. To my left was a similarly shaped set of steps. A good three feet wide at each level. It resembled a cheap theater, with just as high ceilings. The chairs were futuristic white exercise bikes, and our star was hidden in a cloak of white light. She seemed to know where she was going because she led me to the only two empty bikes in the room.

“How we feeling tonight!?” The lights immediately changed to a deep blood red orange. Her voice seemed to be coming from within my ears. I had just managed to get on the bike, while everyone was already fiddling with the resistance.

“Okay everyone straps in and let’s go!” The lights started to strobe the rainbow and basic rock started playing at full volume.

“Ride with that rhythm y’all!” I fumbled to start peddling along with everyone. Was I the only one who didn’t get ready in mere milliseconds? I must’ve been there because to my left she was smiling and looking at everyone. She seemed to be having fun so fuck it I thought. I sped up.

“I want to thank you all for coming out on a Tuesday no less. You know we all struggle to get out of bed and get that routine going guys but you know what you did it you’re here for 45 and we only just started!” I want you to know that’s how she said that. No commas, just one long unbroken breath.

“Wait 45?” I mumbled under my breath, which was struggling to exist in the first place.

“Let’s go up our first hill now come on!”

I looked dead ahead to my own reflection. I don’t own a mirror in my personal life so seeing it is always an interesting affair. I was revolting. A round red face frowning at nothing. But then it hit me. My side started to burn. Next my lungs, finally my mouth tasted like blood. While concerning for you I’m sure, for me this is just the price for health. However, if I didn’t slow down a bit to adjust my seat I wouldn’t be going for very long.

“And as we start to feel that burn, I’d like to take a moment to slow down a bit and talk about my dad”

It was very sweet, her monologue about her father. It was set to the tune of a remix of Dream On. Not what I would’ve chosen mind you. Though let’s be fair at the moment my vision started to go a bit purple to spite the green room. Also, Steven Tyler’s voice started to visualize in my mind as a cel-shaded man singing in a rainy oblivion.

“Hi Steven Tyler.” I thought. As I did, little Steven Tyler in my mind twirled, and the rain dissipated into a deep fog. Water Song started playing, Lil’Tyler sang along as he painted on a canvas he had. Opening my eyes, I was met with everyone else waving their hands and singing a completely different song.

“I want everyone now to think about someone in your life who motivates you. No, I want you to think about your fathers. We’re getting so close to Father's Day that I just want to-”

Frankly I stopped listening. Because reality was steadily sliding out of my view and a dark blank nothingness was replacing it. I looked at my reflection to make sure my eyelids hadn't simply given up but no, they were wide open.

In the black I peddled in now silence for what felt for an hour. Then suddenly an explosion of pinks and blues infested outward like a neural pattern. I glided over branch-by-branch dodging knobbles of immense heat. The peddles slowly got heavier and heavier. Until one of them slipped from under my foot. I stopped and looked at the offending side

My shoe was replaced with birds' eye view of an empty lot. Which I was also now standing in. I can’t explain it better than that. But there I was. Amongst broken foundations and half constructed walls for an acre. I picked up a smooth looking pebble then felt a hand on my foot.

“Do you need help with that?"

The concierge was kneeling at my side holding my foot like a pigeon with a broken wing. I nodded and she helped guide the metal tooth on my shoe into the peddle. Which she also apparently had done for my right foot. When she was done, I could peddle as fast as everyone else in the room. Before I could celebrate, I heard it.

The music cut. And a semi-robotic voice started. Find me it sang. Not nursery rhyme sing, more chant singing. I looked around but no one was speaking. My companion was smiling and laughing with the group on the other side of the room. The instructor was demonstrating a breathing technique. But no one spoke.

I finally checked the mirror to make sure it wasn’t me making an ass of myself and there they were.

12:30

Before anything I noticed the nose first, red as if they’d been standing in the cold. Then eyes like a wild animal in a mania. They had an eruption of blonde hair that bounced as they sang. Smiling and yelling it was an alluring sight, as if this silent serenade was just for me. The figure became clearer in the mirror as my reflection faded. I couldn’t hear but they sounded so excited to offer me their hand and wave me into the mirror with them. I wanted to take it.

Behind them was a gilded path through a tunnel of white lit trees. People laughing, crying, running through the mirror embracing as they went. I could feel an immense warmth when I saw them offer it to me. I felt part of something whole. I felt wanted, needed, and welcomed. There's so much to learn and so much to do and all it would take is to grab that hand.

11:15

“Doing, okay?”

I felt the warmth of her hand and looked to my left. She was yelling over the third AC/DC song and her second water break. I said yes, she smiled and continued riding. I looked into the mirror only to be disappointed by myself once more.

9:40

“Just under 10 minutes now, I want us to lean in and ride this one through.”

Hey Jude, was replaced with Day in the Life and the cusp of ass cheeks were already bruised and begging to stop. But I had to keep going. I had no idea how well I had been doing throughout this entire session. But I owed it to my companion and my own money to give the most I could these last few minutes. I had found my motivation I thought.

“Don’t you want to push yourself?” Everyone agreed but me it seemed. Because they all chanted yes, and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Come on you got this; it isn’t that bad push through it!” I know this was said as encouragement, but it just served to make my already herculean task of keeping up that much more humiliating. Just then the lights went red.

“Feel all that good energy out there ya'll.” The room was now being lit by some ground lights I had not seen. But in my current state it made the floor look like a river of blood.

“We got-” Then it got hot out of fucking nowhere. My shirt was a good three pounds heavier than it was when I arrived. It was then I noticed the souls of my feet had been sewn into the plastic pedals all along.

“You’re not even trying? Do you take anything seriously?” That was all I heard as the walls melted into the steel belly of a furnace. My lungs had started to dry.

“Welcome to hell. You deserve to be tortured and driven mad for your sins!” I was peddling away as my bike slowly sank into the boiling stew of blood. Above me flew a winged beast which took the phase of everyone I had ever loved. Its neck was long and hairy, leading to a kiwi sized body and bloodied wings. It spit a tooth at me.

00:00

“I wish I had remembered a cool down song I’m sorry y’all. We’ll just slow it down with some Men at Work here”

I slowly got off my bike and funneled out to the locker room with everyone else. Having lost 20% of my body weight in sweat alone.

I stood alone struggling to remove my shoes from the small locker when I saw my companion talking with the group from before. Even the concierge joined in the merriment. Mr. Elba was hosting some sort of post work out stretch at his place and half of the class was going. I would have known more details but that was about when I stumbled and knocked over the lemonade jug.

Sticky, sweaty, and severely dehydrated we left and headed to drop me off. I didn’t say much on the way. Half from the exhaustion half from the lack of conversational awareness. I was glad I went though, it’s important to be healthy.

We parted ways, she went to join up with the rest of them, I to my solitude. I walked into my room, I sat and rested my poor feet. Thinking over the events I came to a sobering conclusion. No matter what transpires, at the end of the day, I will always come home alone.

#writing #short story #creative writing #fiction #nonfiction #slipstream #surreal #absurd #lonelly #When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead

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sivsii · 3 years

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Ya boy got wings!! I’m so proud of him!!

Bonus:

#exandria unlimited #dariax zaveon #critical role fanart #exu fanart #critical role #exu spoilers #cr spoilers #My art 2021 #@ tumblr PLEASE don’t hide this from the tags this time I am begging you :(#I feel like I’m so used to my post-ep posts completely flopping when I try and post them hhh #Kinda why I haven’t been doing as much episode-related stuff lately #Posting is scary :’)

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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so i want to talk for a minute about why it’s so important that you reblog fics on tumblr (yes, i know there’s a problem with art too but this is specifically about fics today)

first of all, let me kick this off by saying, if you’re reading this, this is for you specifically. yes, you with less than a hundred followers, you with less than ten followers, you with zero followers. there seems to be this misconception that it doesn’t matter if you don’t reblog something because no one will see it and i’m telling you right here, right now, that you’re wrong. it definitely 100% matters and i’m going to tell you why

last month, i reached a follower milestone and was very excited - for about a day and a half and then my excitement plummeted because what i realized was that i had just hit this milestone and yet the number of notes on my fics had never been lower. at first i was baffled. how could i have more followers than ever but be getting less notes than i used to? at the time, i was posting one to two ficlets every day so i thought maybe the quality was decreasing because of how much i was putting out and i just hadn’t noticed so i decided to take a break from posting ficlets and focused on my longer works and the events i was participating in

i went back to posting today after asking for prompts from followers yesterday and go figure, the number of notes is still lower than it was compared to posts from the beginning of the year, even factoring in the time that’s passed since then. so then i thought to check the notes themselves and what i ended up finding was that while the number of likes hadn’t changed, the reblogs had (interestingly, this drop in notes coincided with a post making the rounds telling writers to be happy with the silent readers who leave neither likes nor reblogs on works but that’s a story for another post)

this is when i went to a couple friends to complain that i didn’t know what i was doing wrong and made an off-hand comment about wondering if people were seeing all these posts begging for people to reblog and just not thinking it applied to them, which is when may - thank you, may - told me that yeah, that’s exactly what a lot of blogs think so let me tell you why it does actually matter that you reblog, even if you don’t think it does

firstly, as it relates just to the author, when you reblog, you’re telling the author that not only did you like their story, but you want to share it with everyone else too. i don’t know an author out there who doesn’t go through the reblogs and read the tags and i can pretty much guarantee that we all get that warm, fuzzy feeling when someone leaves a particularly nice tag

there are two common arguments that i hear for this point: what if i like something cringey and why does it matter if i reblog something when i don’t have any followers to share it with?

as for the first argument, no media is unproblematic and no media is something that everyone will consider non-cringey. there’s always going to be someone out there who thinks your chosen fandom is cringey and it’s best to realize that now and get over it. you can’t please everyone. besides, it’s your blog. why wouldn’t you want to post things you like on your blog?

as for the second argument, if it’s not enough for you that even just the act of wanting to share fics means something to the authors, then let me bring you to my second point: fandom is built on active, not passive, participation

we’ve all heard stories about the star trek fans who actively passed paper copies of fic around to share it with people. fandom was built on sharing those fics. friendships were built on sharing those fics. and if those fans had taken the fics they wrote and hidden them away, shared them with only a couple friends and told them not to distribute their works, modern fandom as it is today wouldn’t exist. we’d still be hiding our fics, hoping that we don’t get the all-terrifying dmca notice

along the same lines, tumblr is built on active participation. every couple of months, it seems like tumblr comes out with a new way to make it harder for content creators to share their stuff: the 2018 nsfk ban, shadow-banning, problems with the read more, and recently not being able to put links in your work if you want it to show up in the tags. all of this means that it’s up to us to keep fandom on tumblr going because tumblr isn’t going to do it for us

tumblr’s algorithm, unlike just about every other social media site, is designed around reblogs. this, in many ways, makes sense. tumblr is a blogging platform so of course its algorithm is designed around what gets shared. this means that posts that show up in the tags are the ones that get reblogged. the posts that show up in the On Your Dashboard, What You Missed, and Recommended features are all the ones that get reblogged. the posts that show up on the login screen, for those of you who regularly see it, are the ones that get, you guessed it, reblogged

so what that means is that, even though you might have only a couple or even no followers, your reblog counts toward that algorithm and that post gets bumped a little bit higher in the tag

which is why it’s such a big problem when people stop reblogging. i can’t tell you how many times i’ve seen a tag saying something along the lines of “wow this is so good, why doesn’t it have more notes?” well, typically it’s because anywhere between 2/3 and 3/4 of the notes on that post are likes, which means that tumblr’s algorithm counted my fic as worthless and didn’t bother promoting it

which leaves me where i currently am: reblogging my own ficlets over and over in the hopes that someone will like it enough to reblog it, tagging it with something as pleading as “if you like please consider reblogging” because if i use anything stronger, i get a whole bunch of people telling me that i can’t tell people what to post

no, you’re right, i can’t tell you what to post. the most i can do is beg and explain yet again why every reblog counts

#fandom #i'm so tired guys #we have this argument all the time #and it just goes round and round in circles #long post

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foreverindreamlandd · 3 years

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Bucky wanted to read her fanfictions and she always declined. So he begged and begged and begged... until she finally gives up and let him read one. 'Cause who could really say no to Bucky making puppy eyes?!

Let me know what you think about it

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

WC: 1.5k (I am apparently incapable of writing a drabble)

A/N: Thank you again for another awesome request! I was basically cackling the whole time I wrote it. Want to read about how Bucky and this reader got together? Check out their origin story in my To Be Wanted series! Only warning in this one is the usual swearin’ like a sailor.

----

“See, this is why I always order Thai food. I can never do it justice.” You frown over your wok, mixing the noodles around with a wooden spoon hoping it will somehow make your creation taste better.

“I’m sure it tastes great, doll.” Bucky walks up next to you and grabs a noodle, tilting his head back as he drops it into his mouth.

His eye twitches almost imperceptibly and you groan.

“It’s good,” he coughs out, trying with all of his strength to regain his composure. “I think you just went a little too hard on the chili paste. I can feel my sinuses clearing up though, which is good, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Can you check the recipe on Pinterest again? I swear I put in the right amount.”

Bucky walks over and picks up your iPad. Right as he’s scrolling to find out if you should have used 2 tablespoons or 2 teaspoons of chili paste, a notification banner pops up and he accidently taps it, opening up your Tumblr app.

Omg! This fic is amazing! The way Bucky is there to support the reader. My heart completely melted! Your Bucky stories are amazing, Y/n! <3

Above the comment is a photo of him. It’s a shot from the news where he’s helping a civilian stand up after one of the attacks made by The Red Hand.

“Uh….love? What’s this?” He holds the iPad up to you and you shift your gaze over to him.

You drop the wooden spoon into the wok as all of the blood drains from your face. You’re frozen in place for a millisecond before you pounce on Bucky to grab the device from him. He’s never seen you move so quickly and it catches him off guard.

“Bucky give me the iPad right now,” you fling your arms toward it and he pulls it away, both amused and a bit concerned by your reaction.

“Wait, what is this? Is it something I should be worried about?”

You see a flicker of panic flash in his eyes and you stop flailing. You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh.

“No, I mean, I should be concerned because if you read that I’m probably going to combust and you’re going to dump me and run for the hills.” He furrows his brows in confusion and you slowly lift up your hand. “Can I please have that back before I have a mild panic attack?”

He stares at you, trying to gauge your emotions. All he can see is panic and sadness and it breaks his heart so he instantly gives in and hands you the iPad.

“Don’t worry about it, love. I trust you.” He leans forward to give you a chaste kiss.

You let out a pained groan against his lips and Bucky is once again confused.

“Ughhhh I hate hiding things from you.” You lock your iPad so the screen goes dark. “Okay, fine, I guess this conversation is happening. Remember when we first started dating and I, uh, mentioned I used to read and write stories about….us being a couple?”

Bucky nods, trying not to reveal any emotion to you that might make you spiral into a panic, and you continue.

“Well, that was one of those stories I wrote. I stopped looking on Tumblr basically as soon as I met you because it got all weird and meta and I got super uncomfy by the idea of reading fanfics - that’s what they’re called - about my new friend/now boyfriend Bucky Barnes. And then we started dating and I was all happy and shit and I totally forgot that those fics were still out there. Obviously I haven’t written any since then because that would be weird for...many, many reasons. Someone must have found an old one and commented on it. I’ll delete it. I’ll delete all of them. I swear. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I should have been more on top of this.”

Bucky stares at you, lips pursed and you grimace, afraid of the next words that are about to come out of his mouth.

This is so weird, Y/n. How could you do this?

No wonder you didn’t date anyone before me.

Obsessed much? (Okay, he probably wouldn’t say it like that but STILL).

No, what Bucky said next was much, much worse than what you could have imagined.

“Can I read one?”

Your mouth drops. Closes. Drops again. You blink rapidly.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Bucky points to your iPad, a sly grin forming on his face. “I want to read one of your stories.”

You take a step back from him, horror stricken as you pull the iPad closer to you as if you were protecting your collector’s edition of ‘Throne of Glass.’

“Absolutely not.”

Bucky steps forward and you step back. He chuckles. “Come onnn, doll. I want to know what your fantasies were about me before we got together.” He laughs harder as the look of horror on your face grows more manic.

“Bucky, I know you’re a super soldier and could probably punch me into the sun with your metal arm, but I promise I will fight to the death before I let you read one of these fics.”

You and Bucky continue this dance of him stepping forward and you stepping back until you feel your legs make contact with your couch and you fall back into a sitting position on its arm. Bucky uses this opportunity to tower over you, his arms resting on the couch so that you’re pinned between them.

Then, he pulls out the big guns.

His gaze softens, blue eyes shining into yours. His bottom lip puffs out and he gives you the most adorable, sexiest pout you’ve seen in your whole life.

“Please, love?” He says it with a slightly higher pitch, almost like a whine and it still sounds like honey to your ears. He even nudges your nose with his like a freaking sociopath.

Damn.

You close your eyes, let out a breath, then open them back up to him. “I hate you.”

His pout turns into a boyish grin and he gives you a quick kiss. “You love me.”

You groan. “Hopefully you still love me after this, Buck. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You stand and open up your iPad, scrolling through your masterlist and finding what used to be one of your favorite fluff pieces. You begrudgingly hand it to Bucky and he sits on the couch.

Unable to sit still during this agonizing experience, you proceed to pace around your apartment like a crazy person and resort to cleaning the inside of your microwave which you haven’t done in a few months so it’s a good thing that Bucky is reading your fic so that you could get that out of the way. You probably won’t have a boyfriend in a few minutes but at least your microwave will be spotless.

You only steal a few glances at Bucky as he reads, mortified each time as you see his eyebrows move in every possible direction. Up, down, knit together, were they criss-crossed at one point?

Finally, after what feels like the longest ten minutes of your life, Bucky lets out a soft grunt, placing the iPad down on his lap. He looks up to you and you give him a weak smile.

“Alright, let me have it, Buck. Give me your worst. Be honest. Also, I love you.”

Bucky glances down at the iPad and then back at you.

“Well, I have a few questions.”

Your right eye twitches. “Hm?”

“Now that you’ve met me, do you still think my eyes are an all-consuming storm of blue?” You groan. He grins. “Or do you think my jawline was cut from marble created by the gods?”

This time, you breathe out a laugh and you walk over to sit on his lap. You take hold of his chin.

“Bucky, I don’t think I could ever come up with the right words to describe you. The real thing is quite literally a million times better than anything I’ve ever written.”

His eyebrows raise. “That is...probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my whole damn life.” He leans forward and kisses you, and you sigh into the feeling of his mouth on yours, relief flooding through you.

You pull away, eyes skeptical. “So, you’re not thinking about how you can escape and never see my crazy ass again?”

“On the contrary, love, I’m thinking about how I can convince you to buy this gorgeous green dress you apparently wore as my wedding date. The one that showed off your cleavage in a way that made Bucky’s brain melt.”

The two of you burst out laughing and you lightly shove his chest. “Sure thing, Bucko. How about I work on the dress situation and you work on ordering us Thai food so that we don’t lose our taste buds from whatever the hell I just made.”

-----

Thank you for reading! Feel free to check out my other stuff here. :)

Taglist: @ceo-of-daichi @biiskuitx @forgetthisbull @eclipses-and-moondust @abcdefxkyou @jackiehollanderr @billionsofbeans @abitgryffindorky @lovelylostminds @mija-just-breathe @semlohkratz @bratty-longbottom-replies @carrotfantasimp @cremedelabrulee @ant1r3al1ty @th-e-mg@laura-moehrchen @emma-the-duck17 @sunnyjane4 @rosaline-black @parodsal000 @vicmc624 @abrunettefangirlnerd @officiallykuute @edityourwishingwell @mymindslabyrinth

***This was the original tag list for the To Be Wanted series. If you would like to be removed from the taglist for any other stories related to this series, feel free to DM me! And let me know if you would like to be *added* to the taglist for any other future stories featuring these two knuckleheads. :)

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #to be wanted #james bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #plus size!reader #plus size #fanfic #fanfiction #sebastian stan #inbox

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m4r13l3y · 3 years

Text

Why, sir?

Mob!Fred x reader

Warnings; smut, subxdom relationship, size kink (?)

Fred’s eyes slowly travel down your body, admiring the way you walked towards him timidly, "why, am i here, sir?" your soft voice asks innocently while you hiding your tiny hands in the folds of your short skirt, your legs shaking, revealing how nervous you are.

“you know perfectly well why you are here," comes his stern response. He walked closer to you, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he titled his chin a bit, looking down at your small frame from his higher position.

“Bend over the desk.” An impatient Fred states, worry sweeping on your face, you walk over to the desk without a word. Fully bending over as your boyfriend pulls your pants and underwear down

“This..” he takes his firm palm and lands a smack to your butt, your eyes now wincing and bending their knees from the pressure, he lands another. “Is your punishment.”

he ran a hand over the curve of your ass, appreciating the way her short skirt barely covered. “so do you dress like a slut for all of the men who work for me or am I just special?” Fred speaks, his voice low, large hands roaming freely over your little body.

You, his little pet, had decided to act out throughout the day, bending over infront of him, giving him perfect view of the white lace beneath your skirt, not caring if anyone else had seen

“Just you” you gasped, your thighs shaking as you feels his fingers against the wet spot of your panties. With a bit of struggle you lift yourself onto the tips of your toes— black shoes bright against the shiny floor, unable to keep still as the man begins to tease the folds of your cunt.

So after his last meeting, Fred decided to correct his puppies attitude; bending her small frame over his work desk, taking no time to pull out cuffs that restrained your wrists and a small rope that bounded your ankles together. Forcing you to stay still.

“you shouldn’t lie to me, darling” he replies, scowling as he slips a digit under your underwear, feeling the wetness drip onto his skin. “you’re nothing but a slut constantly begging to be fucked, aren’t you?” You nod sheepishly, wanting to please the man you love most.

He began to run his fingers against your cunt, loving the ways your knees would tremble under his touch. “Now, you’re gonna take daddy’s fingers like a good girl for once in your life, and I don’t want to hear a fucking sound”

You make no movements, as you try to nod, he grabs a fistful of your hair, your back facing his front “You understand?”

You nod, “words or you won’t cum for a week” he muttered into your ear

“Yes sir, I understand” you quickly whimper, “understand what baby” he faked sympathy in his tone, “that I’m going to take your fingers like a good girl” you whispered

He set you back onto the desk, “maybe if you’re good you’ll get more”

Your mouth silently falls open as you feel his two long fingers slide into you, your walls stretching around his digits. “Yes sir” you stuttered, regretting your actions as you realized what was to come

This is my first time writing mob!fred soo Lmk if you liked this:)

Taglist; (if your @ is not grey, tumblr didn’t allow me to tag you, sorry)

@wonderfilworld @lilypad-55449 @emmaev @amarabln @side-blog-shit @pakukutta25 @cjhollida @chronicwiggler @harry-styles-1800 @rjprofessorlupin @aayaissaa @kittykylax @ethernal-onism @kyleed24 @amourtentiaa @theweasleytwinsgirl @28cnn @moonlight-siyah @xmalfoyweasleyx @goddessofmoonlightlove @pauloonig @nevilleiscottagecore @wand3ringr0s3

#fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley #Fred weasley x reader #Fred weasley smut

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hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Okay guys, so I think I’m getting attached to these characters and might have more ideas for them... so please let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more?

CW: (putting them here because tumblr decided to be weird about my tags tonight) a whole lot of angst and betrayal, stabbed whumpee (recovering from it... kinda), collar and chains, IV mention. Please tell me if I missed something

Continued from here

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer and @swift-perseides

“You said you’d set Whumpee free if I gave you the information,” someone hisses somewhere above them.

The timbre of that voice is a familiar caress, soothing the uneasiness that threatened to take over as soon as consciousness approached. Still, there’s a sharp edge to it that propels Whumpee’s eyes to flutter open, even as it calms the fear.

“Can you prove it?”

That’s the sound that truly awakens them. The sound they hoped never to hear again, that sends chills down their spine and makes them squint their eyes against the dim light and groggily look around.

“Can I p– you know you said it, Whumper. Stop fucking around,” Caretaker growls. “If you don’t want to let me go, then fine. Keep me here. Torture me if you will. But leave them alone.”

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Whumper sighs.

Someone towers over Whumpee, large shoulders they know better than their own stand by their bed, restraining their line of sight to the wall to their right and the one in front of their bed.

“I gave you what you wanted. Now let them go.”

Before they can think about it, before they can even truly remember where they are or why or with whom, their hand reaches out and touches the soft skin of Caretaker’s arm, making them stiffen and turn around with a furrowed brow over softening eyes.

“You’re awake.”

It’s the worry underneath the words that brings it all back. The betrayal months before, all the hurt and bitterness, and then those last hours – minutes? – with a hole in their abdomen silently draining their life away, suffocating in pain.

They pull their hand back.

“What happened?” Whumpee rasps out, only then noticing how dry their throat feels.

They know what happened. Every second of it is etched on their mind forever, but the question still slips out, the need for reassurance bigger than anything else.

“I got you fixed,” Caretaker gives them a sad smile, “just like I promised I would.”

“Actually, I got you fixed,” Whumper says, walking around Caretaker to stop in front of Whumpee’s bed. “You’re welcome.”

Whumpee’s eyes dart between the two of them, narrowing at the way Whumper’s gaze shines with something dark while Caretaker holds themself statue still.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Whumper asks.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” they grumble, frowning when Whumper chuckles. “Why am I not dead?”

“Poor thing, you were really out of it, weren’t you?” Whumper smiles as they hold Whumpee’s ankle through the sheets and rub circles that would’ve been calming coming from anyone else. “Caretaker took the deal in the end. Almost too late, but my doctors are pretty good, so you should heal just fine. If given proper time, that is.”

“So, what now?” they ask, half wanting to just close their eyes and pretend to still be asleep. Their throat pleads for water, but they don’t want to ask either of them, so they just swallow saliva and pretend it helps.

“Well, that’s a question for Caretaker to answer,” Whumper says, turning toward the third person in the room, the one keeping disturbingly silent, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Probably regretting saving them in the first place.

But Caretaker doesn’t say anything. All they do is glare at Whumper from their spot beside Whumpee’s bed.

“What do you mean?” Whumpee asks after a few seconds, stifling a yawn, eyelids pleading to close.

“They mean that they have no word,” Caretaker snaps. “Whumper wants to make another bargain even though they never fulfilled the first one.”

“Fine. But why am I here?” Whumpee whispers, forcing their eyes to stay open long enough to hear the answer.

“Because you’re the bargaining chip, lovely,” Whumper smirks, squeezing Whumpee’s ankle until they gasp.

Whumpee’s heart drops to the floor, and then lower.

Caretaker has saved them once, which was a miracle in itself. Expecting them to do it twice is just too much.

“Can we discuss this later, since you don’t seem inclined to negotiate right now?” Caretaker nods toward the door. “Whumpee needs to rest.”

“I guess they will be needing their strength very soon if you don’t change your mind,” Whumper sighs, winking at Whumpee as they walk to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now.”

The lock clicks behind them, but neither Caretaker nor Whumpee acknowledges it. They’re too busy staring at each other to do much else.

Deep bags mar the skin under Caretaker’s eyes, just like it always happens when they don’t get enough sleep, and Whumpee hates themself for still remembering that.

“Why did you–“ save me, Whumpee tries to say, but their voice fails when a dry cough makes their chest heave and their wound hurt.

Caretaker is immediately leaning close, one hand splayed on their back and the other on their tight, each touch raising goosebumps along their skin. “W-water,” they rasp, closing their eyes at the humiliation.

But Caretaker doesn’t seem to notice how defeated Whumpee’s eyes are, how their cheeks burn red for having to ask them for something so simple. They simply grab a plastic water bottle from the bedside table and hand it to Whumpee. They gulp down the entire thing.

“How are you feeling?” Caretaker asks once they sag back on the mattress.

“Like shit.”

It’s true, but the irritated tone is nothing but a defense mechanism, and they fear as much as they hope that Caretaker notices it.

The pain is a constant weight in Whumpee’s stomach, and the medication slowly dripping into their veins through an IV makes them nauseous and sleepy, but none of it makes Whumpee any less confused or sad whenever they look at Caretaker.

Why did Caretaker save them? A blurry memory tickles their brain, of sobs that didn’t come from their lips, of trembling hands holding theirs, warm lips kissing their forehead when they couldn’t convince their eyes to stay open anymore. It dissolves before they can grasp it, leaving only an empty feeling behind.

“You should sleep,” Caretaker says when the silence grows uncomfortable.

“Are you regretting saving me already?” Whumpee whispers, averting their gaze.

“What? No.” It sounds so real they almost believe it. They want to, so badly, but they’d already made the mistake of trusting Caretaker once before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a hurt edge to their voice that makes Whumpee’s eyebrows rise as they look Caretaker straight in the eye. “Tell you what?”

“What Whumper did. That you were bleeding out.”

Oh.

“You could’ve died, Whumpee. You almost did. If you had just told me they had stabbed you, it would never have gotten to that point.”

“Why do you sound so angry? You’re the one who taught me not to trust anyone. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you but I’d do it again’, remember? You are the one who said those words. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it would matter.”

Caretaker furrows their brows, opens their mouth, and turns around. Before they do, though, Whumpee catches the flash of pain and sadness crossing their eyes and pretends not to notice the glint of tears there.

The seconds tick by, and as the silence extends, pain and exertion make Whumpee’s eyes take longer and longer to open each time they blink. They are almost asleep when Caretaker’s voice sounds again.

“It’s not true, you know. It would’ve mattered. It’ll always matter when it comes to you.”

But Whumpee is already dreaming once they stop talking.

“So, have you made your choice?” Whumper asks from behind a ridiculously large desk. Caretaker folds their arms and doesn’t fight the will to bare their teeth. “We’ve talked through it already, Caretaker. It won’t even be any sort of bother, you just have to go in, pretend I let you free, and come back with the drive I gave you.”

“You and I both know it’s not that simple. You want me to infiltrate my own team, lie to their faces, and hand our biggest enemy a drive filled with classified information,” they bite back, hands curling into fists.

“Well, you can always say no,” Whumper leans back in their chair and grins. “You know I’ll even let you walk out if you do. And then I’ll have a pretty little pet to play with. The only downside is that dear Whumpee won’t last very long as my plaything with that wound of theirs.”

The words might as well be a blade sinking into their heart. And Whumper knows it, relishes the knowledge, laughing when Caretaker holds their breath.

It’s been three days since Whumpee’s woken up. Three days of poorly hiding the desperate need to be by their side, to make sure nothing would ever hurt them again. Three days of knowing that each small noise of pain Whumpee lets out, each hazy look they get whenever Caretaker says something kind or offers help, each distrustful glance, it’s all Caretaker’s fault.

Whumper doesn’t even bother hiding how much pleasure they take from locking Caretaker up until they can’t help but bang on the door and beg to see Whumpee. And when they do, it’s only to be hit by a new wave of pain breaking against their heart, flooding their veins with sorrow every time their eyes meet.

“Don’t fucking touch them,” Caretaker spits out, taking a step forward before they can stop themself.

“Is that a ‘yes Whumper, I agree with your terms’ I’m hearing, dear?”

“How can I trust you won’t hurt them while I’m gone?”

Whumper’s lips tug upwards, growing into a mocking, open smile. “You can’t. And I won’t even bother promising I won’t. So if I were you, I’d hurry up, because each second you try to stall me makes me even more excited to play with little Whumpee, and I don’t think they’ll appreciate my games as much as I will.”

It’s almost funny how a handful of words is capable of completely shattering someone’s heart, of stealing the ground from under their feet and filling them with dread all at once.

“Don’t you dare touch them,” Caretaker says, but it’s scared and quivery and both of them notice. “How the fuck do you expect me to leave with you saying you’ll hurt Whumpee?”

“Do they know how much you care about them?” Whumper muses, getting up and sauntering around the table. “Because I remember rather clearly Whumpee telling me you’d sooner offer them ruin than help.”

“What do you care?” they say through clenched teeth.

“It’s just intriguing how desperate you are to keep them safe and how oblivious they are of it. What did you do to make them so distrustful of you?”

Tore their heart apart with my bare hands. The answer comes to their mind unbidden, bringing a sharp twist of pain along with it. They can still see Whumpee’s shocked face, tears streaming down their cheeks, eyes desperately searching theirs for an excuse that wasn’t there for a treason they had no way to deny, no matter how much they wished to. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I did it for the greater good, and I’d do it again, Caretaker had said with all the pride and coldness a soldier could master.

They had kept their own tears for later, when no one could see them shatter.

“Is your life so miserable you have to feed off of someone else’s or are you just a nosy bastard?”

Whumper laughs, and they wish they could punch that laugh out of that smug face. “I’ll give you the details now and you’ll leave tomorrow. And just because of the insult you won’t get to say goodbye to Whumpee.”

Caretaker glares in response but doesn’t argue. They don’t deserve to be near Whumpee, not after everything, and are pretty sure Whumpee wouldn’t want it either. Besides, the simple thought of seeing the face they love so fiercely fill with suspicion each time Caretaker opens their mouth makes them want to weep.

Still, as long as they are alive to do so, Caretaker will gladly take the suspicion and anything else Whumpee throws at them. They deserve far worse anyway.

Each breath Whumpee takes hurts, and they are about to start crying out of frustration when the door opens. They don’t dare recognize the sharp tug of disappointment in their heart when the face that appears isn’t Caretaker’s.

“Good morning, love, how’s that wound?”, Whumper asks.

“Fine.” There’s an air of amusement around them that makes Whumpee shiver, even if they don’t know exactly why. “Where’s Caretaker?”

It leaves their lips before it hits their brain, and Whumpee has to bite their tongue to avoid slapping their forehead for it. Stupid. Caretaker shouldn’t mean anything to them anymore.

“Oh, dear. You still care about them, don’t you?”

Whumpee doesn’t even open their mouth, not when the answer they can voice would be a blatant lie and they’d both know it.

“It’s really unfortunate to have feelings for someone who doesn’t reciprocate them, isn’t it?” Whumper says, drinking in the slight frown between Whumpee’s brows, the way they look away to hide how much the words hurt them.

Before the wave of bitterness can crash over Whumpee, Whumper nods to someone outside the room and two guards step inside.

Their heart starts to pound, thrumming louder at each step the men take toward them.

“What, what’s going on?”

“We’re going somewhere else today, love. I assumed you needed the help to walk.”

They are shaking their head before Whumper even finishes the sentence. With a smile stretching across their face, they raise their brows, as if inviting Whumpee to do it themself.

They know what’s going to happen even before it does, and by the glee on Whumper’s face they do too, but Whumpee still kicks the thin blanket away and gets up on wobbly legs before taking two steps forward. On the third, the pain becomes unbearable. On the fourth, they can’t help but hold their injury and hunch their shoulders. Whumper watches them with mock concern as Whumpee stumbles out of the room. When they finally fall to their knees two steps later, Whumper simply tuts from their spot against the door.

“I guess you did need the help, huh?” they say, and Whumpee catches only a glance of their smile as they wave for the guards.

Two pairs of hands grab Whumpee’s arms and pull them up, and they can’t hold back a scream when it makes their entire abdomen explode in pain.

They are hauled over countless hallways, into a room made of concrete walls and nothing more, barely big enough for all of them.

“Please,” they breathe. “What are you doing? What about your deal with Caretaker?”

“Caretaker left, Whumpee.”

It’s the softness in their voice that makes Whumpee’s head turn to them, all wide eyes and parted lips.

“The bargain we told you about was for them to either betray their team and keep you safe or go away and leave you behind. They made their choice.”

Whumpee can only stare at Whumper’s sympathetic smile. The words take a while to truly sink in, and when they do, all Whumpee does is take a deep breath.

They’d been expecting this all along, they tell themself. They knew they couldn’t trust Caretaker, knew they’d never come first. They know it, they do. But then why does it hurt so much?

“And you see, Caretaker’s leaving made me kind of mad,” Whumper says as Whumpee is dumped on the cell’s cold floor, falling on all fours. “Betrayals make me bloodthirsty, I’m sure you’ll understand. And since you’re mine now, how can I resist it?”

Whumpee’s mouth dries at that. Terror shoots through their veins at the same time sadness tightens their heart.

The two men who’d carried them there take a step forward at the words and grab chains from a hook behind the door they hadn’t noticed before. As the chains are hung on metal loops attached to the wall, Whumpee realizes how wrong they’d been. The cell walls aren’t completely barren after all.

And when the guards crouch down in front of them, Whumpee can barely find strength through the panic and the pain radiating from their stomach to fight.

They do, though. Even when it burns and sends waves of dizziness down their body, Whumpee thrashes in hands that don’t budge, jerks against grips that only tighten.

But none of it matters when metal cuffs lock around both their wrists, nor when the chain is shortened until their arms are pulled straight above their head, back touching the wall. At least they are still sitting. Not that they could get up if they wanted to.

“Whumper, pl–“

But it isn’t over yet, they realize when another shiny gray circle approaches. Whumpee lets out a choked whine, but it’s all they can do before the collar closes around their throat and locks their neck to the wall as well. An uninvited sob escapes their lips, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it either.

“You look beautiful in chains, love,” Whumper says from the door, grinning with sadistic satisfaction at Whumpee’s weakness.

Humiliation tinges their cheeks red when Whumper’s gaze travels up and down their body. Chained, collared, like a dog, unable to do more than wiggle their arms and weakly kick their legs.

“Why are you doing this?” Whumpee asks, voice airy and desperate, searching for an explanation they know isn’t there.

“Because I wanted to. Because it brings me joy to see you struggle. I wouldn’t keep thrashing like that, though, you’ll wear yourself out very quickly with that unfortunate wound of yours, and we don’t want this to end too soon, do we?”

They leave the cell with a giggle and a wave of goodbye, and when the door doesn’t lock behind them, Whumpee almost chokes on a bitter laugh.

The cell is big enough for them to lie down straight if the chains weren’t keeping them tightly tied to the wall. But as time goes by, it seems to get smaller and smaller, closing in on them with each ragged breath Whumpee takes. The chains clink together as they squirm, but there’s no give. Their wound hurts through it all, burning with each movement, but stopping feels like giving up and if they do, then what?

No one knows where they are but Caretaker and they’ve already made it clear they won’t help. They’ve already given up on Whumpee, left them once again.

No one cares. There is no saving this time.

Whumpee chokes on rage and grief as tears stream down their cheeks, for a love that should never have been born, for the heart that has been broken in so many pieces they don’t know how it can still find strength enough to keep beating in their chest.

Whumpee stares at the gray walls and feels a scream building, and there’s no one there to stop it from bursting out, containing all of their anger and sadness and betrayal and spilling it over to the world. But even though it’s left their chest, the cry keeps echoing, bouncing around the walls, and none of the feelings are gone. They are all still there, still boiling inside of Whumpee.

So Whumpee sobs and pulls at the chains until their wrists are raw and bleeding, and don’t stop until both their strength and their voice are gone and there’s nothing else to do but sag on the chains.

Caretaker is in the elevator when the phone Whumper’s given them buzzes. Seven floors to go before they have to face their team. A few seconds before they have to betray the people who are nothing less than their family.

Even so, it’s not that thought that sends a shiver down their spine.

No one but Whumper has that number. The phone was given to them with specific instructions to be used solely to communicate with them. It’s Whumpee’s wide eyes that shine in their mind when Caretaker unlocks the phone, and it’s the memory of their smile that makes Caretaker’s heart race as they stare at the text and the video attached to it.

Got bored. You better hurry up.

Their hand trembles as they click on the video and Whumpee’s thin figure fills the screen, arms chained above their head, legs loose on the ground in front of them. Their eyes are closed, and for an instant, Caretaker’s heart stops in fear. But then Whumpee’s head starts to loll forward before being violently pulled back, and at the same time relief makes Caretaker suck in a sharp breath, the thing shining around Whumpee’s neck makes their heart sink through the floor.

The collar surrounds the soft skin Caretaker’s tasted more than once, marring the perfect curve of their throat. When it yanks their head back, it hits the wall behind them and their eyes snap open. Whumpee stares at the ceiling for a moment before their mouth opens in a scream Caretaker feels in their soul, even if they can’t hear it. They feel it with their whole heart, and when Whumpee starts pulling against the chains, Caretaker thinks they’ll puke.

The video ends with them panting silently through the soundless video, the glint of tears wetting their cheeks.

And then the elevator stops, and Caretaker barely has two seconds to wipe away their own tears before the doors open.

When their teammates run toward them, none of them sees the way their eyes shine for the dread it is.

As they smile and let lie after lie slip through their teeth, the only thing resounding in their mind is Whumpee’s silent screams. And as they deceive and betray, no one seems to notice the way their hands tremble or how they can’t convince their lips to smile no matter how happy they should’ve been to be back with the team. Not when the ten seconds keep playing over and over again inside their mind.

(next)

#whump #whump writing #betrayal whump #injured whumpee #emotional whump #lovers to enemies #forced to watch #angst #betrayal story

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 18

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

A/N: so sorry I’ve been slow with updating Tumblr - my blog was shadowbanned (basically Tumblr hid my blog in searches, notifications, tags, etc.) and it just got fixed so I’m working to update here!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“You’re back,” Dr. G smiled as you plopped down in the seat across from her.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead forced a tight smile. “I’m back,” you confirmed with a dramatic nod for emphasis. You didn’t know why you were feeling so hostile. You had shown up here willingly this time.

Bucky didn’t even know you were seeing your therapist again. But it wasn’t exactly like he was around to find out. He had left for his mission yesterday in the very early morning and you were now on constant edge. You didn’t know what he would encounter. You knew none of it was at your clearance level seeing as you had no government clearance level to begin with but still… You didn’t like that anything that went wrong would come back to you in the depths of your sleep. Even if Bucky had shared everything step-by-step, any mishap was another blow. Even if everything went right, you feared you were bound to see something.

“Would you like to share anything?” Your therapist asked, disrupting your spiraling thoughts. It was like she knew and, well, maybe she did. You really did kind of suck at hiding your emotions. You could practically feel your face darkening with worry.

“Bucky and I learned something about us recently,” you said a bit nervously but Dr. G nodded in encouragement. You tried to steady your breathing and continued, “Our soulmate bond has been disrupted. It happened when he was part of Hydra — I mean, not like part of. That makes it sound like he joined willingly which he absolutely did not—,”

Your therapist said your name sharply, cutting off your words. “I know what you meant,” she said.

You nodded briefly, recomposing yourself, and began again, “While under Hydra, he was brainwashed and in that process, they thought they had rid him of his soulmate. But, turns out, all they were doing was tampering with the transmission lines. This means any sort of trauma or… or really emotional occurrences in Bucky’s life gets passed along to me, intercepting any, well, normal dreams. And there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Nothing?”

You glanced away. “Well, I’ve asked him to retire to maybe… minimize the damage.”

Dr. G nodded as she scribbled something on her notepad. She let out an interesting hum. “How did Bucky respond to that?”

You fought back the urge to roll your eyes. You weren’t really upset with him, more angered by the situation. “It took him a second to come around to the idea and, sure, eventually he did but then he was given another mission. A mission he couldn’t turn down.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Another feeling of annoyance flashed across you at the cliche therapist speak but you could also recognize the question for its worth. Someone was actually asking you how you felt about the new, and last, mission. Lord knows Bucky hadn’t.

You bit your lip, feeling tears already threatening to run down your cheeks. “It made me feel bad, to put it simply. I just felt horrible and scared. I know that with time it’ll go away and maybe we’ll find some peace but I’m just really hurt it has to be this way.”

More notes were scribbled. “How did Bucky react to hearing that?” Dr. G asked without looking up. You shifted awkwardly in your seat, fiddling with your fingers out of habit. Your therapist glanced up once her writing has finished. Her brows raised as you struggled to find an answer.

“He doesn’t really know.”

Your therapist placed her pen on her notepad and leaned forward in her chair, eyeing you a bit upsettingly. “Do you remember what I told you during your last session?”

Talking. Talking, talking, talking. Just let it out. How could you forget? That’s exactly what you had done and while it made some kind of progress, you were still stuck at this godforsaken dead end for the time being.

You picked at the chair cushion. “He didn’t ask,” you sighed. “Besides, what good was it going to do? I couldn’t have stopped the mission.”

Dr. G shrugged. “No, I doubt you could’ve, but that’s not the point. The point is you’re hurting and your soulmate needs to know this, especially when it involves him. You can’t beat around the bush or try to sidestep this kind of stuff. Be gentle, yes, but little progress can be made if everything is bottled in.”

“Well, doc, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I’m sure he knows very well how I feel about all of this,” you snapped back. “Think I made myself super clear during our first conversation about retirement.”

“Fine,” she shrugged. “Assume he did. Assume Bucky knew everything that was going through your mind. Did it open any conversation?”

Your shoulders slumped. You looked away.

Dr. G continued, “My point exactly. Of course, you don’t want to hurt him but you can’t hurt yourself in the process. How many people actually knew about the nightmares to begin with?”

“None,” you mumbled. And it was, sadly, the truth. Your coworker was the first to know. You hadn’t even had the guts to tell your parents.

“I’m sure I make it sound easier than it really is but there are some benefits to it over time,” your therapist said after a moment.

You let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re kind of annoying, you know that?”

Your therapist laughed. “You’ve been wanting to bite back for a while, haven’t you?” You didn’t answer. She shrugged. “Already testing out those communication skills I see.”

You let yourself roll your eyes this time.

***

It was nearing midnight when your cell phone rang. You jumped, suddenly disturbed by the ringtone as you laid on your couch watching some sitcom reruns. You frowned in confusion as you stretched to reach your phone on the coffee table. You weren’t expecting any calls.

You turned the screen around and were greeted by one name: Bucky. You just about yelped when it registered he was calling you -- and from his mission, amazingly. You sat up quickly and answered.

“Hi, Buck,” you greeted, hopefully sounding a bit more cheerful than you felt. Your therapy session from the morning still had you a bit shaken.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky responded, his voice a bit hoarse. He sounded exhausted and...defeated.

You sink into the couch. “Is everything going okay?” You guessed it wasn’t too weird he was reaching out while away but something was off in his voice. You thought you had already mentally prepared for the worst.

“For the most part,” he mumbled. “I have to tell you, sweetheart, it wasn’t smooth sailing. We… We all had to do some things we aren’t proud of.”

You shut your eyes, trying to reel in your panicked brain before you said something you’d regret. This couldn’t all fall on Bucky, it wasn’t fair. He had a job, one final job, and you were going to have to accept that.

Regaining your voice, you said, “What… What things, Bucky?”

He fell silent on the other end. All you could hear was some soft breathing and others talking in the background. The rest of the team you could guess. You said his name into the receiver again.

“Just know I didn’t like what I had to do and I can’t wait to put this life behind me.”

If that was all you were getting from him, you’d have to accept it. “Okay,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I-I understand.” You didn’t really but you knew after tonight you definitely would.

Bucky took another pause. “You deserve so much better than this.”

“Bucky-,”

“You really do, sweetheart.”

“Bucky, please, listen,” you sighed. “While this isn’t ideal and I was very upset you just jumped on this assignment without speaking to me, I know it won’t be like this forever, right?

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about the assignment before leaving,” Bucky responded. “I-I knew I couldn’t do anything about it but that’s still not fair to you. You deserve to be heard.”

“It’s okay, honey,” you said, fighting back some tears getting ready to start again. “You’re almost done, you’re almost back home.”

Bucky hummed. “I am,” he confirmed. “And when I get back I’m going to make up for all of this, I promise.”

You let out a weak laugh through the tears. “You can make it up to me by getting home safely.”

Bucky was about to say something else but was then cut off by someone yelling at him in the background. He gave a curt response before turning his attention back to you. “Sorry, doll, but I have to go. We have some debriefing to do.”

“Of course,” you said, waving a hand in the air like he could see you. “I’ll see you soon, alright?”

“See you soon, sweetheart,” he said. “Love you.”

The line cut before you had the chance to say the words back. You held your phone out in front of you, staring at your lit homescreen, shocked and overwhelmed. He loved you. And he had said it.

***

You were dreading getting ready to go to sleep but, at the same time, your body was practically begging for it. You were finally getting back into the swing of working and now with therapy sessions on top, you couldn’t believe how exhausting life was. As if you had forgotten at some point.

But with that craved moment of relaxation, an unnerving threat lurked.

You practically moved with caution when it came to your nighttime routine now. You washed your face carefully and precisely. You scrubbed every tooth again and again for a good minute. Even combing out your hair seemed to be tedious.

It was all sad attempts at procrastination and you knew it but what could you do? It wasn’t like you were jumping into bed happily no matter how much your body screamed.

When there was no more to do in your routine, you had to accept it. You had to finally lay down in your bed, let your head hit the pillow, curl up under the duvet, and welcome whatever kind of sleep was going to greet you.

Almost immediately, you were hit with everything.

As always, you’re seeing it in glimpses from Bucky’s eyes, from his mind. In this instance, he appears to be located in some kind of warehouse. It almost reminded you of where you had been taken to but abandoned.

At first, Bucky seems pretty calm and collected. He’s assessing his surroundings and mapping out a plan. He says something to the person next to them. You can’t see them and possibly you don’t want to.

They agree with whatever Bucky has suggested but before their plan can commence, they’re both attacked. Guns blazing, doors busting, a whole goddamn ambush. You’re panicking, you feel Bucky panicking. But it doesn’t last long for him. No, within seconds he’s in destruction mode, stomping towards the pop-up army - you don’t even know what they’re part of - dodging bullets and taking them down one by one.

Some others are helping out it seems but you’re only allowed to be consumed with Bucky’s take on the situation. Despite how much you don’t want to be, especially when he… You see the glint of his metal arm rush past. They’re dying. Being killed. These soldiers or whatever are dropping left and right around him. You feel Bucky’s pulsing anger. He has no plans of slowing down. You feel the tension in his arm as he strangles another and another and another. At one point, he even throws some across the room.

They’re finished. No more men pour in. The rest of the team has stopped. They’re all looking at Bucky, wide-eyed and nervous. You feel his fury turn to shame. You didn’t know the mission’s expectations but you could guess they didn’t exactly involve this much death. No one says anything as they move on.

The images fade but the feelings don’t. You suddenly want to cry in your sleep feeling Bucky’s distraught and embarrassment.

Unable to deal with it anymore, you force yourself awake, everything vanishing as your eyes open. You look around your dark room. The clock beside your bed reads just past three a.m.

You curl back into your blanket and face the wall. You stare at it for the rest of the night, heart pounding and hands shaking.

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

come snuggle.

♡ pairing: jisung x reader

♡ genre: marriage au; fluff.

♡ warnings: nothing just tooth rotting fluff.

♡ word count: 1.1 K

♡ type: drabble.

♡ network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

♡ credit: this was inspired by one of these ideas. @hanstagrams this is for you <3

↯ note: hhhhhhhhh i’m in soft jisung mood so here have this <3 hope you like it and I could do your idea justice sammie <3 idk why i made a gif header for this i just wanted to and it seemed fitting bshbshsbsh. — dawn.☀️

“Hey honey,” You feel your shoulders slump down the moment you enter your shared bedroom, immediately biting your lip as you notice your husband, peacefully sleeping with his cheek pressed against the soft pillows. He looks like a view in itself, face devoid of any stress lines, his breath evenly calm as he naps on the mattress.

In all honesty, it isn’t even that late — only 10 pm, which is usually when you come home. But you understand, because Jisung’s been staying up late at the studios for four days in a row. So, the fact that he’s giving himself sufficient sleep is pretty relieving. He pouts like a baby even in his sleep, and you find yourself standing at the entrance and just… mesmerized at how you’re married to such a pretty, gorgeous man.

Walking up to him, you throw your bag mindlessly onto the floor as you seat yourself at the edge of the bed, right beside your husband. He doesn’t flinch at the slight dip in the mattress, only sighing before snuggling further into the warm pillow.

Pretty, so pretty. He’s ethereal in every which way you look at him. His black hair falls over his eyes beautifully, eyes closed in so much peace you’re suddenly overcome with an urge to kiss his eyelids gently. You reach out to gently run your hands through his silky hair, brushing it out of his face to reveal the clear, lineless skin above his eyebrows. Succumbing to the temptation, you lean down. gently pecking his forehead, smiling when you feel him shift under your actions.

You don’t stop combing through his hair, eyes focused on your lover. You’re gazing at him with so much concentration you’ve totally forgotten about everything around you, or you for that matter. You can’t feel the tension in your shoulders in contrast to the bubbling feeling of love in your chest — all because you happen to glance at your husband falling asleep in the most adorable, loving manner.

“Mmh,” He mumbles, and you can sense he’s going to wake up. You gently tuck several strands of his hair behind his ear smiling when you feel him shiver at the action. He shifts around a bit more before opening his eyes, the sight of his delicate black orbs in the dim lighting of the room almost making your heart burst out of your chest.

Fuck, it’s illegal for Han Jisung to be so adorable.

“You’re back!” He mumbles incoherently, rubbing over his eyes like a child that only makes you spiral more into the warm feeling of fuzziness you experience when you’re with Jisung. He gently pecks the hand that lies near him before taking your hand in his, holding it close to his chest as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

You only chuckle, rubbing your thumb against the high end of his cheekbone. “I am, baby.”

“What are you waiting for then…” He frowns in his dazed out state. “Come snuggle with me, I missed you.”

You feel his arm slightly cold underneath you, noticing how the lack of a blanket has caused him to huddle up into a ball to preserve his body heat. Silently, you get up from your spot, ignoring the confused whine that leaves Jisung’s lips as you pull the comforter over his body, tucking it under his arms.

His breath evens out once again as you kiss his forehead, leaving the room to quickly change into your pajamas, wash your face and scroll through your phone a bit to shut your alarm off. Because tomorrow is a Sunday, and by family law you’re obligated to not wake up early on a Sunday. Jisung’s rules, not yours.

A quick plop against the mattress, and you shift closer in your position behind Jisung, sneaking into the comforter before throwing an arm and a leg over his body. He only sighs for a second, grasping your hand in his own as he rubs a thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly.

“That’s much better.” he whispers, almost melting in your arms when you nuzzle the back of his neck passionately, bringing your free hand to brush through his hair once again. “How was your day, baby?” Your husband spills, and you fight back the wish to poke his soft cheek, for completely self-indulgent purposes. He was gorgeous — and so, so cute. You were bursting at the seams with how soft you were right now, all because of your husband being the softest little baby out there.

The warmth from the comforter and your body is extremely relaxing, and Jisung suddenly feels small beside you. You hum softy, pecking the back of his neck, smiling when you were rewarded with a sleepy, high pitched giggle. “We can talk about that tomorrow, you’re clearly tired and sleepy.”

“Hmm.” Jisung doesn’t question it. He’s been stressed about this comeback to the point where Chan had to send him home early to get some rest. Jisung’s thankful to Chan though, because he absolutely loves being in your arms, especially when you smother him in love and kisses — it relieves his stress like nothing else.

He turns around, letting a slight hum of content slip through his lips as he tries to get as close as he possibly can to your warmth. You watch over him with loving eyes and a bursting heart, sliding your arm down to rest against his soft cheek. His skin feels smooth like silk under your palm. You gently poke his cheek, kissing over the area immediately.

“You’re so pretty.” You know he’s still awake to hear you.

A loud, hearty laugh leaves your lips when Jisung outright blushes, whining like a child as he hides himself into your chest. “It’s too late for this, stop.” He says, looking up at you with big doe eyes as he pouts. He’s contagious, so contagious. You can still feel the spark you’d felt with him when you’d first met, even after so many years, especially after two years of marriage.

“It’s never too late to call you pretty, baby.” You rub small circles into his shoulders as he whines even louder.

“You’re mean” He humphs.

“You’re pretty.”

“Wha- no,” He drags at the “no” part, but even you know he secretly loves it when you compliment him and baby him like this. It’s not very often you tend to get this soft over your husband, either because you’re always busy or he’s always busy. But no matter what, the both of you make sure to spend at least one time of the day today, be in morning, afternoon, or night.

You don’t day anything besides snickering, tucking him into your embrace as you feel him slightly kiss your collarbones. “I love you baby. M’ sleepy, good night.”

You press your lips chastely to his forehead. “Good night, baby. We can spend the whole day together, tomorrow.”

*sighs*

🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ this is a prayer circle for the tags to work this time ;-; 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ oh tumblr gods if you hear me please stop tormenting me I beg of you 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️ gosh ‘m so tired ; - ; 🕯️ 🕯️ 🕯️

377 notes · View notes

kmomof4 · 3 years

Text

Oh, Shit!

It’s here, y’all!!!! Only took a week!!! I am very excited to share this fic with all of you, even if I’m wanting to run and hide at the same time! This fic was spawned by a tweet that @stahlop shared on the CSMM discord last Tuesday.

In college, a friend set me up on a blind date. I wasn't in a great mood because I had received a traffic ticket a few hours before. My day got worse when my blind date turned out to be the cop who gave me the ticket.

After a bit of discussion with the ladies on discord, I started writing. I do believe this is the filthiest thing I’ve ever written and I hope you all enjoy!

HUGE internet hugs and ALL the love and thanks to @hollyethecurious @karlyfr13s and @justanother-unluckysoul for their beta services. I am a very boring and repetitive writer on my own and without their INVALUABLE input, this would have been about as entertaining as plowing your way through waist deep snow in a blizzard.

Ao3 link

Rating: E

Words: Just shy of 4900

Tags: Blind Date, Smut

Tag list: Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart1426-blog @profdanglaisstuff @branlovestowrite @thisonesatellite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @klynn-stormz @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @zaharadessert @elizabeethan @xhookswenchx @gingerpolyglot @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 @sailtoafarawayland @justanother-unluckysoul @veryverynotgoodwrites @jonesfandomfanatic @deckerstarblanche @the-darkdragonfly @batana54

Adding a couple of other folks from discord who were excited about this one. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the regular list.

@purplehawkcaptain @holdingoutforapiratehero

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Emma Swan lifted the glass of white wine to her lips as she looked out the window of the restaurant to the streets of Boston below. She wasn’t in the best mood to be going on a blind date, but she’d promised her best friend, Mary Margaret, that she’d still come even after the day she’d had.

She’d lost a big skip with a hefty payday because she’d been stopped for speeding in the middle of chasing him down. So the last thing she wanted to do tonight was make idle small talk with some random guy who was friends with M’s fiance, David, who had also made the reservation. She took another sip of her wine and turned toward the front of the restaurant as the maitre d approached. The man behind him cut quite a figure in the black suit he wore. He was tall and raven haired with dark scruff lining his jaw, and it took Emma a moment to recognize him.

Oh, shit…

~*~*~

Killian Jones walked into the swanky hotel restaurant and approached the maitre d.

“Reservation for two under the name Nolan,” he informed the man.

“Yes, sir,” he replied. “Your table is ready. Right this way, please.”

Killian followed behind the man as he led him toward the back of the room, where a blonde goddess sat alone holding a glass of white wine while looking out the window. She turned toward them and Killian stopped in his tracks.

Oh, shit…

~*~*~

3 hours earlier

Emma looked in her rearview mirror when she heard the siren. Flashing blue lights filled her vision.

Oh, shit!

She pulled over and watched as her mark sped away, slamming her hand on her steering wheel in annoyance. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she tried to plaster a winning smile on her face. Dressed the way she was in her best honey trap dress, it was always possible that she’d be able to talk her way out of a ticket.

She looked in the rearview again and caught her breath as the sexiest cop she’d ever laid eyes on got out of the cruiser and made his way toward her bug. He was sex on legs. Tall and lean with artfully mussed black hair and scruff lining his jaw, she snapped her mouth closed and swallowed heavily.

“Do you know why I stopped you, ma’am?”

Emma batted her eyelashes at him innocently.

“No, I don’t, officer.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and the corner of his very full, very soft looking lips raised with it. She nearly needed to fan herself.

“You were going nearly 20 miles an hour above the speed limit back there.”

“Oh, really?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I had no idea! I’m so sorry, officer. I will be sure to never do it again.”

“Mmhmm.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “May I see your license and registration, please?”

“Oh, of course,” she agreed, lifting the hem of her dress up her thigh to where she kept her identification and a few bills in a thigh holster when she was working. She took her time getting her license out, hopefully giving him an eyeful. The man’s stunning blue eyes were darkened with lust when she turned back to him and handed him her information.

“Thank you, Miss… Swan,” he said, looking at her license. “I’ll be right back.”

She watched him walk away, appreciating the view as he approached his own vehicle, before her own desire turned into anger.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” she hollered, slamming her hand on the steering wheel with each curse. She looked in her rearview again and saw him looking right at her. His intense stare told her that he had seen her outburst and that she hadn’t fooled him a bit with her little innocent act. She blew out a frustrated breath and waited for him to return, struggling to bring her libido under control.

Several minutes later, he returned. As he handed back her documents, Emma screwed up her courage.

“Listen,” she began, “I really am sorry for speeding so much back there, and for the little act earlier.”

His eyebrow raised again. “Really,” he deadpanned.

Indignation flooded her cheeks with heat as she took a deep breath before continuing.

“Yes, really. See, I was chasing a skip…”

“Your reasons don’t really concern me, Miss Swan,” he said, handing her the citation.

She huffed in annoyance as she took the ticket from him. Their fingers brushed briefly and Emma could feel the shock all the way down to her toes.

“Is this really necessary?” She wasn’t above begging.

“I’m afraid it is.”

With his heated gaze on her, she looked at the citation and gasped in shock. “$350,” she shrieked, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Watch your language, miss. I could add another hundred for disrespecting a police officer.”

Emma’s eyes got wide and she had to swallow her retort. She tossed the offensive piece of paper to the passenger seat and turned a sickly sweet fake smile on the man.

“Am I free to go now, sir?” she grit out with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

“Yes, ma’am.” He raised his eyebrow at her again and smirked while running his tongue over his bottom lip. If she wasn’t so pissed, she’d be really turned on by his actions. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

She wanted to tell him to piss off, but she also didn’t want to antagonize him. So she just rolled her eyes and turned the car on. When she pulled into traffic, she looked into the rearview mirror one last time and saw that he still stood on the side of the road looking at her car with a roguish smirk on his face, like he wouldn’t be opposed to pulling her over again... and maybe frisking her. And if she wasn’t so angry, she had to admit, she wouldn’t mind it either.

~*~*~

Oh, shit…

Killian couldn’t move. Couldn’t bring himself to put one foot in front of the other. The woman he was meeting, at his best friend David’s behest, was the angel he had ticketed earlier this evening.

Just looking at her again, a smirk spread across his face and he could feel his slacks tightening. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t very pleased about this turn of events, but he imagined that she wasn’t terribly happy to see him.

~*~*~

Oh, shit…

It was him. The cop that ticketed her a few hours ago. A flush blossomed across her face and spread down her chest- whether from arousal or indignation, she wasn’t sure. She took a deep breath, her chest rising. His eyes followed the action and darkened with desire before he subtly adjusted himself. Her own smirk ticked up the corner of her lips to match his. This was gonna be fun...

~*~*~

Killian resumed walking toward the table, inserting a slight swagger in his gait. When he reached the table, he held his hand out for her and raised it to his lips when she placed her own hand in his.

“A pleasure to see you again, Miss Swan,” he murmured, brushing his lips across her knuckles.

Raising her eyebrow at him, she snarked, “So now you’re gonna be a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he said, releasing her hand and sitting down across from her.

“Coulda fooled me,” she replied, rolling her eyes at him. He couldn’t help the genuine grin spreading across his face at her action. “I don’t think a gentleman would have given me a $350 ticket when I was just trying to do my job.” She raised her eyebrow at him again.

“Your job?” he asked. “And what might that be?”

“Well, I tried to tell you and you cut me off.” She could feel her anger at him rising again. “Not exactly gentlemanly behavior, you know.”

He felt his cheeks flame in embarrassment but nodded in acknowledgement of her assertion and motioned for her to continue.

“What? No ‘I’m sorry, Swan, you’re right’? No begging me for forgiveness?”

He smirked at her again. “I don’t beg.”

She pursed her lips and he was about to have a serious problem in his pants if she didn’t let up soon.

“Mmhmmm, we’ll see about that,” she murmured. Her eyes had darkened to a deep jade and she ran her tongue along her bottom lip. Yep, definite problem… He adjusted himself again, trying in vain to get comfortable.

“What do you do for a living, Emma? May I call you Emma?”

She rolled her eyes again. Every time she did that, her sex appeal increased ten fold and so did the tension below his belt.

“Might as well,” she exasperated, “since this is supposed to be a date. I’m a bail bonds person,” she continued, “and I was chasing my latest skip. He left his mother on the hook for his bond and she’s about to lose her house if I don’t bring him in.”

“I see,” he frowned. “I can’t do anything about the ticket itself. It’s already in the system. But perhaps we can team up and get him back behind bars without you endangering yourself and others.” He raised his eyebrow at her and was pleased to see her eyes darken further with a come hither look within.

“I don’t think I’d be opposed to that,” she flirted back, her bedroom eyes making it nearly impossible for him to think straight. If he didn’t have her tonight, he was going to lose his ever lovin’ mind.

The flirting between them continued back and forth over the course of the evening as they discussed their proposed partnership to bring in her skip, exchanged light and teasing touches, and swapped stories about David and Mary Margaret.

Killian was nearly driven mad with desire, much like he had been earlier when he ticketed her, between her sultry looks and the way her lips wrapped around her fork as she ate. She stared at him over the candle-lit table as she drew the fork out of her mouth in such an erotic way that he wished she was taking him into her mouth instead. He could just imagine her pink lips wrapped around him, sucking him down, which was not helping him bring his libido under control, at all.

~*~*~

Emma watched him from under her lashes as she ate, doing her best to keep her own breathing under control as she watched him squirm. She knew exactly what she was doing to him; the only problem was, watching him was turning her on too. The way he was looking at her now, he looked like he’d rather be dining on her, rather than the excellent steak on his plate.

His eyes bored into hers, his blue irises nearly swallowed by black, his jaw slack. She chewed and swallowed, never breaking the heated stare between them.

He swallowed heavily. “You wanna get outta here?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, wiping her lips and standing as he pulled out his wallet and tossed a couple hundred dollar bills on the table. He grabbed her hand and all but pulled her out of the restaurant into the lobby and towards the reservation desk.

“Do you mind? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to wait long enough to get back to one of our places.”

She shook her head, seeing the logic in the plan. Her heart rate was already galloping a mile a minute, but when he drew her into his side and his arm snaked around her while his fingers drew nonsense along her waistline, it increased even more.

Once they were on their way up to the room, he captured her lips and caged her in at the back of the elevator, his hands running along her sides and setting her on fire. She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him, burying her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Their tongues battled for dominance as he pulled her leg up over his hip and ground his hardness exactly where she needed him.

~*~*~

Killian swallowed her wanton moan as the ding of the elevator signaled their arrival on their floor. He reluctantly pulled away and touched his forehead to hers as she tried to compose herself before the doors opened. His desire for her threatened to drown him and he didn’t know how he was gonna make it to their room before ravishing her completely.

The doors opened and he grabbed her hand again as they exited the elevator. Moments later, they arrived at their door. Plastering herself to his back, her arms wrapping around his front, she writhed against him as he waited for the lock on the door to disengage. She cupped him through his pants just as he opened the door.

He covered her hand with his own, prompting her to giggle, as they fumbled into the room. There was no time to look around at the fancy amenities the hotel offered, not when he had a bloody goddess in his arms. He spun around in her embrace and caged her against the closed door.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled, prompting another giggle from her.

“Promise?”

“Yes, indeed, Swan,” he murmured before his lips latched onto her neck and sucked hard on her pulse point.

~*~*~

Emma’s head fell back against the door, granting him more access as white hot pleasure spiraled through her and centered in her throbbing core. She reached down and cupped him again, his length and thickness filling her small hand, before undoing his belt and pants.

She pushed his boxer briefs down his hips freeing his cock, then wrapped her hand around him and started stroking him up and down, up and down, up and down. His lips released her and he lowered his forehead to her own, a broken groan erupting from his throat as she continued her ministrations. Having him like putty in her hands was a heady feeling and she couldn’t bite back the smirk at the wicked thought that suddenly entered her mind.

She pushed away from the door, never halting the movement of her hand, forcing him to step backward into the room toward the king sized bed. She caught his sapphire gaze just as his lips crashed to hers again. They continued to shuffle toward the bed as his lips tried to devour hers, his pants falling all the way to his ankles. It was a wonder he didn’t get tangled up in them, pulling them both to the floor. They came to an abrupt halt when his legs hit the edge of the bed and tumbled onto it. He never released her as they fell and she laughed out loud when she landed on his chest.

She looked down at him and was struck by the wonder and awe she saw in his eyes. A sentiment that should make her want to run as far and as fast as possible. She didn’t know where these feelings were coming from but she knew she didn’t want to run from them either. Looking in his eyes, she saw a tender care within them that made her feel safer than she ever had, with any man. She was always very careful to keep her heart behind heavily fortified walls, but being here now, with him, she could feel those walls crashing down, leaving her totally exposed. The awed surprise and devotion she saw in his own cerulean depths told her with absolute certainty that he would catch her when she fell.

She lowered herself to him, much more slowly this time, and gently touched his lips with her own. His hands buried themselves in her hair as their tongues caressed one another, moans and soft gasps coming from them both. Her own hands started working down the buttons on his white dress shirt and stroking the soft chest hair that was exposed as she went. Finding the zipper at the back of the dress, he lowered it as his fingers stroked the exposed skin, kindling an inferno within her.

Once the zipper was down, she raised up again as he pulled the straps of her gown down her arms exposing her breasts to his sight. His eyes darkened impossibly further as he lifted his head and latched onto a pink nipple, teeth nipping and tongue laving as he held her tightly to him. A contented sigh left her as he released her and turned his attention to its twin. The inferno was dying down, replaced with glowing white hot embers, whose warmth filled her all the way through her extremities.

“You taste absolutely divine, my Swan,” he murmured, still showering her breasts with attention. She keened in pleasure before opening her eyes and pushing his jacket and shirt off, exposing his entire chest to her exploring fingers. They danced along his ribs and she couldn’t help her delighted grin when she found a spot just below them that caused him to jump, halting his worship.

“Ahh,” she breathed, “a bit ticklish are we?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before she grasped his length again and began pumping him in earnest. His eyes rolled in his head as she stroked him from root to tip, swiping her thumb across the head that leaked precum at each pass. Releasing him for a moment, she shimmied out of her gown, leaving it to pool on the floor around her feet before she climbed fully on the bed with him.

Their eyes met, his blue completely swallowed by black, before she began leaving open mouth kisses down his torso, never breaking the spell woven between them in their transfixed gazes. She placed a kiss with a swirl of her tongue on his hip bone, his length rubbing against her cheek. Turning, she placed a kiss to the tip before taking him into her mouth. Their gazes remained locked as she took him as deep as she could before coming back up to start all over again.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth, love,” he moaned, “Just like I imagined. Just like that, Swan. Yes. So good.”

She went to work on him in earnest, her wicked thought from earlier flicking back through her mind. She bobbed her head up and down his shaft, her tongue swirling about the head before she took him in again. When he bumped the back of her throat, she cupped his balls in her hand and swallowed around him before releasing him with a pop. The groan coming out of him was positively wrecked and she couldn’t help the smug smirk spreading across her face as she looked back up at him.

“You are a wicked vixen, Swan,” he choked out. It took him a moment to match her smirk with one of his own.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she cheeked, before swallowing him down again.

~*~*~

He fell back down on the bed and grabbed the bedspread with both fists, determined to let her have her way with him and not just hold on to her head for dear life as he took his pleasure in her mouth.

She licked and laved and he thought he might die from the exquisite torture of holding himself back as he bumped the back of her throat again and his balls drew up ready to explode down her throat. She released him with a pop again and this time his groan was more of pain than pleasure. He blew out an exasperated breath and caught her eye again. The green orbs danced with mischief and his own narrowed in speculation.

“Just what are you up to, Swan?” he asked, in between heaving breaths.

“You’ll see,” she replied before sucking him down again.

This time he didn’t hold back. He grabbed her hair and began pumping into her mouth, nearly desperate in his need. He could feel his balls drawing up again and was about to release her of his own accord, when she pulled completely off of him once again, wringing a wretched moan from the depths of his soul out of him.

“What do you want, Swan,” he groaned in agony. “I’ll give you anything if you’ll stop teasing me.”

He looked at her gorgeous face, her cheeks flushed, her pupils dilated, her lips parted, red, and swollen. She was just as aroused, but wasn’t to the edge of desperation like he was. His eyes widened as he suddenly guessed her purpose.

She grinned like the cat that caught the canary. “I’ll let you come,” she began, taking him in hand again and stroking up and down, “if you’ll pay my ticket.”

“Gods, woman,” he croaked, “Yes, anything. Just please, let me come,” he begged.

She lowered her head, taking him down one more time and he sighed in relief as he felt her mouth envelope him. That relief was short-lived however as she slowly stroked and swallowed him down. He thrust himself into her mouth and in seemingly no time at all, the tide of ecstasy overwhelmed him as he exploded down her throat. Thick jets of his seed burst from him so furiously after all her teasing that he struggled to remain conscious.

She swallowed every drop before releasing him and licking her lips. The erotic picture she painted roused him enough to grab her by the shoulders and surge upward, crushing his lips to hers. His tongue stroked the seam of her lips, tasting himself before she opened to him, her tongue matching his stroke for stroke. They finally broke away and he touched his forehead to her own, panting for breath.

“You are a minx, Emma Swan,” he confessed.

She smiled, a more genuine one this time before she pecked him on the lips. When she pulled back, he grabbed her.

“Uh, uh, uh, Swan,” he cajoled, drawing her close and kissing her gently. “A gentleman never leaves a lady wanting.”

“And you did say that you’re always a gentleman,” she agreed. He lowered her down to the mattress and looked his fill as his hands traced her curves from her jaw, over her shoulders, down her side and brushing the side of her breast, over her hip and down her long legs.

“You are exquisite, Emma.” His gaze captured her own again and as much as it had been teasing just a few minutes ago, now they were filled with a longing desire that matched his own.

He captured her lips again as his hands continued his exploration. Finally touching her scorching center, he dipped one finger into her depths, drawing it through her drenched folds then raising it to his mouth where he sucked it clean.

“You taste delicious as well,” he purred. Killian moved down her torso, leaving tender kisses and light teasing touches in his wake until she was nearly vibrating in anticipation. Looking back up at the gorgeous woman on the bed with him, a genuine smile broke over his face as he maneuvered himself between her spread legs and inhaled deeply. “And your scent,” he hummed in appreciation before diving in like a man starved. He licked a long stripe through her sodden folds and followed it up with his fingers as she writhed above him. Deciding to torture her a bit as she had him, turnabout is fair play after all, he pulled back and placed a hard and dirty kiss to her throbbing clit. A groan of complaint flew from her lips as his fingers withdrew.

“What the hell, Jones? This is not being a gentleman.” She lifted her head and scowled at him, apparently most displeased with his reciprocation.

“Getting a bit of revenge does not negate my gentlemanly qualities,” he cheeked at her irritation. “Don’t worry, Swan,” he assured her, “As I said before, a gentleman never leaves a lady wanting.” Waggling his eyebrows at her, he placed an arm across her torso, holding her still. He turned and gently bit down on the inside of her thigh before soothing it with his tongue. A tortured moan from Emma, her fists gripping the bedspread, prompted a kiss to her other thigh before he turned his attention to her core again. Lapping at her folds, her juices bathing his tongue, he plunged two fingers into her depths, curling them just right before he wrapped his lips around her clit and sent her flying over the edge. Her cries were music to his ears as her hips bucked against his face. Bringing her down gently, he rested his head on her hip, watching her face as the aftershocks flowed through her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful as you when you come, Swan,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hip bone.

She looked down at him, slightly dazed. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Jones,” she declared. “You did promise to pay my ticket.”

“I did, indeed, Swan,” he conceded. “And as a man of my word,” he put his right hand upon his naked chest, “I will do so.” He surged toward her, capturing her lips and rolling them until she rested on top of him. “Once I’m done with you,” he whispered, pressing kisses along her jaw.

She moaned as he rolled them again, working his way down her jaw to her collarbone and chest before his lips wrapped around her nipple, teasing it to a hard peak before turning his attention to the other.

“So responsive to me,” he murmured against her skin. He felt her grab his hair and tug relentlessly until he released her with a pop and let her draw himself up until he was staring down into veridian orbs that he could easily drown in.

“I need you inside me, please,” she begged, drawing him down into a bruising kiss.

“As you wish,” he cooed against her swollen lips. He looked down at her again as he lined himself up at her entrance. “Do we need anything?”

She shook her head. “I’m clean, I’ve got it covered, and I trust you,” she assured him, arching her back until he barely slipped inside her. His heart soared at her words as he thrust home, sheathing himself within her depths in one stroke.

Killian lowered his forehead to hers, glorying in the words she’d just spoken and in her tight warmth surrounding him. His lips gently stroked her own as he began to move within her. Moving languidly, deliberately, stoking the fire between them, he slowly made love to her. Moans and gasps of pleasure spurred him on, grinding against her every time their hips met. He could stay buried within her, holding her close to his heart, all night, every night. For the rest of his life.

Emma’s legs wrapped around his hips urging him deeper as her walls fluttered around his length. He increased his pace, pushing her higher and higher until their cries of mutual pleasure joined together in an age-old chorus of completion.

Killian shuddered above her as his release pumped into her depths. His hips stilled and he had to steel himself for what he might find when he opened his eyes. David had warned him that his date tended toward being closed off, holding people at arm's length, but that if he gave her a chance, he really thought Killian could find happiness and eventually love with her. And after the evening he had spent with her, he was ready to hand her his heart on a silver platter. She was brilliant, feisty, gorgeous, could hold her own in any situation, brave, strong, his match in every way. But he was so afraid that when he looked into her eyes, he’d see nothing but a citadel hiding, protecting her heart, after getting exactly what she wanted out of him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Eyes as green as the verdant forests he’d vacationed in as a lad stared back at him full of hope and trust, tinged with fear. Wanting nothing more than to erase that fear, he cupped her face in his hands and softly pressed his lips to hers, trying desperately to convey his own hope, trust, devotion, and yes, even love for her into his kiss.

When they broke for air he wanted to tell her everything. Everything in his heart. But before he could, she placed her finger on his lips and shushed him.

“Not tonight,” she said, removing her finger and kissing him again softly. She turned in his arms and snuggled back into his embrace. He held her tighter, burying his nose in her golden mane before he let sleep overtake him.

~*~*~

Killian struggled to open his eyes as the old fashioned, jarring ring of a landline telephone sounded from the floor next to his side of the bed. Emma still slept soundly in his arms and he groaned as he turned over and scooted over to the edge, his hand fumbling around on the floor until it closed over a cell phone. He fell back, eyes shut and answered.

“Hello?”

“Killian?” Mary Margaret asked, barely containing her squeal. “What are you doing answering Emma’s phone?”

Killian’s eyes flew open.

Oh, shit!

#oh shit #krystal writes #mostly pwp #prompt fic

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missdawnandherdusk · 4 years

Text

Glass House

Hufflepuff!Reader X Draco

I got people blamin' me for shit they did to me

Lots of people shamin' me for shit they didn't see

So point the finger, pull the trigger, throw them off your trail

You're diggin' me my grave, but keep the shovel nearby

Dig your own right next to mine

I got people sayin' take an eye for an eye

I just turn the other cheek cause you ain't worth my time

'Cause you see in black and white

But there's more than just wrong and right

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Summary: Lines start to blur between wrong and right as you and Draco try to make it through the first semester of sixth year alive. Can you both keep up the charade long enough to survive? Can laughter and smiles hide what’s lurking underneath?

A/n: Y’all know what’s up. I’m so excited for this chapter honestly because there is so much character growth in our power duo as well as side characters and ugh I would die for Pansy. Also, I haven’t quite decided what to do with Snape yet... I don’t really hate him, not that I particularly like him either. Anyway, let me know what you think! I love seeing all of your comments you have absolutely no idea!! Stay strong and always keep fighting: this chapter deals with some dark stuff. I hope that you all see how to find a ray of sunshine in the midst of hell by reading this. ((I also cleaned up my taglist and got rid of the ones that tumblr wasn’t letting me tag anymore, so if I accidentally deleted you, lmk and I’ll add you back!! And Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to add a lot of you and I’m sorry ://// It’s not that I don’t love you bc I’m trying here))

Prologue:

“Cissy, you must not do this, you can’t trust him —”

“The Dark Lord trusts him, doesn’t he?” Narcissa snapped back at her sister.

“The Dark Lord is . . . I believe . . . mistaken,” Bella panted, and her eyes gleamed momentarily under her hood as she looked around to check that they were indeed alone. “In any case, we were told not to speak of the plan to anyone. This is a betrayal of the Dark Lord’s —”

“Let go, Bella!” Narcissa snarled, and she drew a wand from beneath her cloak, holding it threateningly in her sister’s face. Bella merely laughed.

“Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn’t —”

“There is nothing I wouldn’t do anymore!” Narcissa breathed, a note of hysteria in her voice, and as she brought down the wand like a knife, there was another flash of light. Bella let go of her sister’s arm as though burned.

“Narcissa!”

But Narcissa had rushed ahead. Rubbing her hand, Bellatrix followed again, keeping her distance now. At last, Narcissa hurried up a street named Spinner’s End, over which the towering mill

She had knocked on the door before Bella, cursing under her breath, had caught up. Together they stood waiting, panting slightly, breathing in the smell of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night breeze. After a few seconds, they heard movement behind the door, and it opened a crack.

A sliver of a man could be seen looking out at them, a man with long black hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and black eyes.

Narcissa threw back her hood.

“Narcissa!” said the man, opening the door a little wider, so that the light fell upon her and her sister. “What a pleasant surprise!

“Severus,” she said in a strained whisper. “May I speak to you? It’s urgent.”

“But of course.” He stood back to allow her to pass him into the house, Bellatrix following suit.

“Snape,” she said curtly as she passed him.

“Bellatrix,” he replied, his thin mouth curling into a slightly mocking smile as he closed the door with a snap behind them.

Snape gestured Narcissa to the sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it aside, and sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly.

“So, what can I do for you?” Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair opposite the two sisters.

“We . . . we are alone, aren’t we?” Narcissa asked quietly. He nodded in confirmation.

“Severus, I’m sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you. I think you are the only one who can help me I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone, but —” Narcissa rushed out, her words stumbling over each other.

“Then you ought to hold your tongue!” snarled Bellatrix. “Particularly in present company!”

“‘Present company’?” repeated Snape sardonically. “And what am I to understand by that, Bellatrix?”

“That I don’t trust you, Snape, as you very well know!”

Narcissa let out a noise that might have been a dry sob and covered her face with her hands. Snape set his glass down upon the table and sat back again, his hands upon the arms of his chair, smiling into Bellatrix’s glowering face.

“Narcissa, I think we ought to hear what Bellatrix is bursting to say; it will save tedious interruptions. Well, continue, Bellatrix,” said Snape. “Why is it that you do not trust me?”

Narcissa tuned the bickering pair out as her thoughts started to spiral again. Draco consumed her psyche and in turn so did Y/n. They were woven together in fate as she and Lucius were and

Narcissa was sure of the matter. It seemed like eons had passed since Narcissa found herself in Y/n’s shoes, and she knew that somewhere she had failed watching her love turn into a monster and she did not wish the same fate upon her son.

“That was not my fault!” said Bellatrix, flushing. “The Dark Lord has, in the past, entrusted me with his most precious — if Lucius hadn’t —”

“Don’t you dare — don’t you dare blame my husband!” Narcissa hissed, in a low and deadly voice, looking up at her sister, butting into their squabbling.

“There is no point apportioning blame,” said Snape smoothly. “What is done, is done.”

“But not by you!” said Bellatrix furiously and the two continued to argue until Bellatrix still looked unhappy, though she appeared unsure how best to attack Snape next. Taking advantage of her silence, Snape turned to her Narcissa.

“Now . . . you came to ask me for help, Narcissa?” Narcissa looked up at him, her face eloquent with despair.

“Yes, Severus. I — I think you are the only one who can help me, I have nowhere else to turn. Lucius is in jail and...” She closed her eyes and letting free the tears that had been threatening to fall for days. “The Dark Lord has forbidden me to speak of it,” Narcissa continued, her eyes still closed. “He wishes none to know of the plan. It is... very secret. But—”

“If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak,” said Snape at once. “The Dark Lord’s word is law.”

Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house.

“There!” she said triumphantly to her sister. “Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your silence!”

But Snape had gotten to his feet and strode to the small window, peered through the curtains at the deserted street, then closed them again with a jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning.

“It so happens that I know of the plan,” he said in a low voice. “I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told. Nevertheless, had I not been in on the secret, Narcissa, you would have been guilty of great treachery to the Dark Lord.”

“I thought you must know about it!” Narcissa relaxed, breathing more freely. “He trusts you so, Severus...”

“You know about the plan?” said Bellatrix, her fleeting expression of satisfaction replaced by a look of outrage. “You know?”

“Certainly,” said Snape. “But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord to change his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all.”

“Severus,” she whispered, tears sliding down her pale cheeks. “My son . . . my only son . . .”

“Draco should be proud,” said Bellatrix indifferently. “The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn’t shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, and he should, since he’s in love with that filthy little blood-traitor—”

“Watch your tongue Bellatrix! I was in her position when the first war began!” Narcissa’s voice became cold and harsh before she turned back to Snape. “Draco is barely sixteen and has no idea what lies in store! Why Severus? Why my son? This is vengeance for Lucius’s mistake, and I know it!”

Snape said nothing. His lack of response confirmed her fears. Again, her Lucius had been twisted in such a way to damage her son.

“That’s why he’s chosen Draco, isn’t it?” Her voice held no ounce of hope. “To punish Lucius?”

“If Draco succeeds,” said Snape, still looking away from her, “he will be honored above all others.”

“But he won’t succeed!” Narcissa rose, almost yelling. “Severus...please...You are, you have always been, Draco’s favorite teacher... and his godfather...I beg you... You are the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor...Will you speak to him, persuade him —?”

“The Dark Lord will not be persuaded, and I am not stupid enough to attempt it,” said Snape flatly. “I cannot pretend that the Dark Lord is not angry with Lucius. Lucius was supposed to be in charge. He got himself captured, along with how many others, and failed to retrieve the prophecy into the bargain. Yes, the Dark Lord is angry, Narcissa, very angry indeed. And I think even more so since Draco has found himself weak with that girl,” He snarled the word.

“Then I am right, he has chosen Draco in revenge!” choked Narcissa. “He does not mean him to succeed, he wants him to be killed trying!”

When Snape said nothing, Narcissa seemed to lose what little self-restraint she still possessed. Standing up, she stalked to Snape and seized the front of his robes. Her face close to his, her tears falling onto his chest, she hissed, “You could do it. You could do it instead of Draco, Severus. You would succeed, of course you would, and he would reward you beyond all of us— ”

Snape caught hold of her wrists and removed her clutching hands. Looking down into her tearstained face, he said slowly, “He intends me to do it in the end, I think. But he is determined that Draco should try first. You see, in the unlikely event that Draco succeeds, I shall be able to remain at Hogwarts a little longer, fulfilling my useful role as spy.”

“In other words, it doesn’t matter to him if Draco is killed!”

“The Dark Lord is very angry,” repeated Snape quietly. “He failed to hear the prophecy. You know as well as I do, Narcissa, that he does not forgive easily.”

Narcissa sneered and paced away, staring at the hearth. “My only son...my only son...”

“You should be proud!” said Bellatrix ruthlessly. “If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!”

Narcissa gave a little scream of frustration and clutched at her long blonde hair, before drawing her wand and pointing it at Bellatrix.

“You will never understand what this is like Bellatrix! You question my loyalty to the Dark Lord but what have I not given to him!? What have I not scarified!? He has taken my love! My family! My sisters! Now he has my son!”

“Narcissa, that’s enough. Listen to me.” Snape stood between the two sisters and Narcissa lowered her wand. “It might be possible . . . for me to help Draco.”

“Severus — oh, Severus — you would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm? He needs someone,” Narcissa gasped out desperately, her anger fading.

“I thought he had his precious little Hufflepuff,” Bellatrix sneered, but Snape paid her no mind.

“I can try to aid Draco,”

Narcissa composed herself, relief flooding through her veins as she gave him a slight nod.

“If you are there to protect him... Severus, will you swear it? Will you make the Unbreakable V ow?”

“The Unbreakable Vow?” Snape’s expression was blank, unreadable. Bellatrix cackled a laugh but Narcissa paid her no mind. Instead her eyes were trained on dark black ones that held a glimpse of hope.

“He loves her, Severus,” Narcissa’s voice was soft, lost under her sister’s snarking remarks. “You must understand that. Give him the chance you never had,”

Something passed between them, a memory of a girl with bright red hair and a boy who got lost along the way. “I shall make the Unbreakable Vow,” he said quietly. “Perhaps your sister will consent to be our Bonder.”

Bellatrix’s mouth fell open. Snape and Narcissa grasped right hands, not breaking eye contact.

“You will need your wand, Bellatrix,” said Snape coldly. She drew it, still looking astonished. “And you will need to move a little closer,” he said.

She stepped forward so that she stood over them and placed the tip of her wand on their linked hands.

Narcissa spoke. “Will you, Severus, watch over my son, Draco, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord’s wishes?”

“I will,” said Snape.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

“And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him and his love from harm?”

“I will,” said Snape. A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

“And, should it prove necessary . . . if it seems Draco will fail . . .” Narcissa could barely make the words out, “will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?”

There was a moment’s silence. Bellatrix watched, her wand upon their clasped hands, her eyes wide.

“I will,” said Snape.

Bellatrix’s astounded face glowed red in the blaze of a third tongue of flame, which shot from the wand, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft sigh left my lips as I looked around my barren childhood room. Draco’s hands found their way to my hips as he stood behind me, taking in the same scene.

“It looks so much smaller now,” I murmured softly.

“Your home is at the Manor,” His lips pressed softly to the shell of my ear. “And we’ll be at Hogwarts soon enough,”

“Oh joy,” I muttered, a smile finding my lips at I turned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Are you sure we can’t just run away to Paris?”

A smile barely touched Draco’s lips.

“If I could, I would take you anywhere safe in a heartbeat,” His fingers brushed my cheek softly, sending a shiver down my spine. “But...”

“But our work is here,” I finished, straightening the lapels of his blazer, smoothing them out. “Are you sure you want to give up being a prefect?” I asked for about the hundredth time. “We still are kids Draco,”

His hands found mine, our fingers intertwining.

“It’s too much to have to worry about,” He murmured softly. “I already fear for both of our lives this year, let alone having to worry about prefect duty and classes,”

Sighing softly, I nodded, my hand creeping up his left arm and resting over his sleeve, over the Mark.

“I love you,” The words constantly left my lips as well as his. A constant reassurance that it would pull us through.

“As I love you,” He smiled this time, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Now, we’re going to be late. Pansy and Abby are already at the station,”

The Hogwarts Express shone in all of her glory, but this time it seemed as if there was something off about her appearance. Like she had been tainted with the secrets that her passengers held and weighted down with the fear that hung in her thick smoke.

Narcissa hugged us both goodbye and Draco and I met up with Pansy and Abby, also with our other friends: Ernie, Hannah, Vincent, Gregory, Blaise, and Emme. Emme and Hannah fawned over my new clothes and the former muttered that it wasn’t fair that I got prettier every year. I blushed at her words that deepened when Draco agreed, his hand slipping around my waist.

Settled in a compartment Ernie, Pansy and Abby all left for prefect duty—Abby had taken my place as Hufflepuff prefect. I wasn’t sure if anyone had taken over Draco’s position, nor did I fret about caring.

After the three had returned, there was a nervous tap on our compartment door. Emme opened the door and a third-year girl with large blue eyes and raven hair.

“T-these are f-for Abby B-Bones, B-Blaise Zab-bini and Y-Y/n Y/l/n.” She squeaked.

I stood, smiling kindly, Abby took her place beside me. The girl gawked up at us and maybe she had reason to; we weren’t exactly your average Hufflepuffs any longer.

“Thank you,” I took the parchments from her hands.

She nodded and with one more quick look around the compartment, she dashed off down the hall.

“What is it?” Draco was by my side, looking over my shoulder.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do,” I teased softly. “Impatient much?”

I unfolded the letter.

Y/n,

I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.

Sincerely,

Professor H. E. F. Slughorn

“Slughorn?” I said dubiously, trying to make out the overly ridiculous cursive font. “A new teacher?”

Draco took the note from my hands and I rolled my eyes, now peering over his shoulder. “Are you going to go?” Draco’s voice was calm and collected.

He was hiding his fear and disdain of me leaving his side even momentarily. My eyes found Abby’s and we had a silent conversation.

“I’ll go, see what it’s all about,” Abby spoke. “If this Slughorn really wants to meet Y/n, I’ll tell him where he can find you,”

“Thank you,” I wrapped her in a hug. “Be careful,”

“You too,”

Blaise and Abby left—after Abby and Pansy shared a parting kiss that had me blushing and hiding in Draco’s shoulder. After a while, Draco stretched out on the empty seats, his head in my lap. My fingers played with his hair that had just been cut before the start of the new school term. I had to admit that I missed his shaggy hair. He looked much older now.

I was about asleep when the compartment door opened again, and Abby and Blaise came back in. Draco sat up momentarily, and we both looked expectantly to Abby for news while Blaise wrestled with the door.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” He snapped angrily as he smashed the sliding door repeatedly against something that didn’t seem to be there.

My eyes flashed to Draco’s and he kept his cool. I took his lead and looked to Abby as she went on about the meeting with Slughorn lamenting to Pansy. Draco’s eyes still lingered on the door, following something that wasn’t quite there.

Draco laid back down in my lap and my fingers resumed their task in his hair. His hand found mine and carefully he traced one letter on the back of my hand: “H.” To anyone else it would have looked like a comforting gesture.

I quickly signed one word to Abby: Harry.

She gave a small nod but didn’t let on that she knew anything. In fact, we settled back into the conversation of Slughorn and lunch.

“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” Blaise rolled his eyes, huffing at Gregory who was trying to casually slip his arm around Blaise’s shoulders. “Not that he managed to find many.”

“Well-connected?” I frowned, my thoughts briefly straying from the fact we were being watched by the Golden Boy. “For what reason?”

“Dunno,” Abby shrugged, signing the letter H, reminding me. “No one too fancy, McLaggen from Gryffindor,”

“His uncle’s big in the Ministry,” Draco explained softly.

“— someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw —”

“Not him, he’s a prat!” Pansy exclaimed in horror.

“— and Longbottom, Potter, and Ginny Weasley,” Abby finished.

Draco sat up, my hands falling to my lap. He pressed an apologetic kiss to my temple and sat up straight next to me.

“He invited Longbottom?” Draco sounded almost dismayed at the fact.

“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” Blaise said indifferently, now tucked under Gregory’s arm.

“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” Draco muttered.

“What’s he got interest in me or Abby?” I pointed out. “It’s just a prissy preppy club filled people who don’t have any real charm other than who they know,” I huffed. “Well, present company excluded... And Neville has always been a sweetheart, and I don’t really know about Ginny...” I trailed off and both Abby and Pansy were rolling their eyes at me, but Draco was still distracted. “But...”

“Potter,” Draco picked up on my train of thought. “Precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at ‘the Chosen One,’” He sneered.

“Dray,” I called softly, snapping him from his thoughts. Though I still had a distaste for Harry, I knew that it wasn’t good for Draco to get worked up about Harry because it was hard to reason with him when he did. Draco laid back down in my lap and for the third time my fingers stroked through his hair.

“Maybe he’s going a bit senile.” Pansy offered. “No offense babe,” She mended quickly looking to Abby.

“Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his...” I heard the hurt in Draco’s voice this time.

“We’re more than who are parents were, or are,” I reminded him softly. “And this Slughorn seems... shady,”

“Who cares what he’s interested in?” Draco agreed, a bit more defensive than normal. “What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher.” He yawned ostentatiously and I laughed, ruffling his hair. “I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”

“Draco,” I scolded.

I’d let him get snappy and defensive sure, but he couldn’t just go around telling our plans to everyone. We needed secrecy for this to work.

“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” Abby demanded, looking to me.

I gave her a sharp look and signed “listen” and my eyes darted up towards the trunk compartments above our heads and she simmered down, remembering that we weren’t alone.

“Well, you never know,” Draco murmured softly, sulking up at me. “We could have... moved on. To bigger and better things,” There was an ounce of hope in his voice.

Everyone looked at the pair of us, either dumbfounded or suspicious.

“Do you mean — Him?” Pansy asked in a low voice.

Draco shrugged. If Draco was talking about better things, it would be moving onto a world where he didn’t exist.

“We’re finishing our education,” I pressed what seemed for like the hundredth time. “No matter how pointless it seems,” I muttered under my breath.

“The Dark Lord wants service, loyalty,” Draco reminded me. “Can’t do that from school can we?”

It was a constant argument we had. If we did manage his trial and came out victorious—as victorious as one could with what was asked of us—what would happen afterwards? Draco was convinced that he was going to actually take me away to Paris to be safe, but he had to see that I wasn’t going to abandon Hogwarts or our friends. After a while he agreed too, but it was always on the fence about the idea.

“And you think you’ll be able to do something for him?” Blaise unknowingly interrupted our silent standoff. “Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”

“Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something that you need to be qualified for,” Draco whispered quietly. “I can see Hogwarts,” He sat up, looking out the train window. “We’d better get our robes on.”

___________________________________

Draco smiled as he fastened your silver cloak over your school robes and for a moment, he could believe that it was the winter of last year, that day in the snow.

“Pinnae hasn’t been out in a while,” He commented softly.

“Bigger things,” You replied softly. “Do you want her to...”

“I’m going to check on something,” Draco confirmed, knowing that you were still being watched. “You go on ahead.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” You scolded again; your voice was so low that he doubted Potter could hear you.

With one last fleeting kiss, you left the compartment. Now Harry and Draco were alone. People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform. Draco closed the door and let down the blinds so that passersby couldn’t peer in.

“Petrificus Totalus!” Without warning, Draco pointed his wand—not your father’s—at Harry, who was instantly paralyzed.

Draco watched, as though in slow motion, Harry toppled out of the luggage rack and fell, with an agonizing, floor-shaking crash, at his feet, the Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed with his legs still curled absurdly into the cramped kneeling position. Harry couldn’t move a muscle; he could only gaze up at Draco, who smiled wickedly.

“I thought so,” Draco grinned, kneeling down. “I heard Greg’s trunk hit you. And it’s hard to sneak when you have the most powerful wizards in the school in one compartment. We’re not idiots, Potter.”

His eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry’s trainers.

“And you didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here...”

Draco stamped, hard, on Harry’s face. He felt a satisfying crunch under his shoe and watched as blood poured from Harry’s nose.

“That’s for what you said to my Y/n. Now, let’s see...”

Draco dragged the cloak out from under Harry’s immobilized body and threw it over him.

“I don’t reckon they’ll find you till the train’s back in London,” he said quietly. “See you around, Potter... or not.”

And taking care to tread on Harry’s fingers, feeling quite satisfied, Draco left the compartment.

“What did you do?” You hissed at him as he got into the carriage, riding to school.

“Nothing,” Draco said with a cool smile. You gave him a flat look. “I might have broken his nose,” He grumbled. “And put him in a full body bind curse...” You raised your eyebrow, knowing that wasn’t it. He didn’t know if he loved or hated that you knew him that well, “and hid him under his invisibility cloak...”

“Draco!” You cried. “Are you serious!?”

“He’s been nothing but a prat to us Y/n!” Draco argued. “And after what he said to you at Diagon Alley? And last year when he accused you of double crossing him!?”

“Okay, yes, and you broke his nose. I’m fine with that,” You gestured. “But Draco won’t it be suspicious when he doesn’t show up to school!? We can’t afford to make any mistakes!”

You glared each other down and Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He heard a soft huff come from you and your arms wrapped around his waist. His curled around you instinctively.

“I didn’t mean to yell,” The words were soft from your lips. “But Draco you can’t let this silly feud come over you like this,”

“It’s not a silly feud,” He argued back. You gave him another look.

“We need him,” The confession was small. “If we want to beat this. It’s gonna take all of us,”

Draco didn’t want to admit you were right. But there was something about Harry that set him on edge. Like he was a danger to you at all times when he was near. He almost attracted it like a magnet.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered softly. “Forgive me?” You nodded into his shoulder.

“I can see them,” You whispered softly, your head still tucked into his shoulder. “The thestrals. I always knew that they pulled the carriages but... I didn’t think that...”

You bit your lip, and he knew you were trying not to cry. Draco knew what the Dark Lord had made you witness, and it surprised him too, that seeing the death of your father counted when it was nothing but a memory. He stroked your hair softly and held you close the entire ride.

He hated that you had to part for the opening feast, watching the house sorting take place. When the Sorting Hat mentioned uniting within to face the dangers beyond the walls, his eyes flashed to yours, then over to the Gryffindor table. You were convinced that the Sorting Hat was right and that it would take unity in the school, but he wasn’t too sure. Was unity the key to his success? Would anyone want to stand beside him after what he was about to do?

His conscience was eased slightly when it was announced that Snape was now teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. If nothing else, you stood a better chance against what he dragged you into. Draco still had a disregard for Slughorn and couldn’t keep the grimace off his face.

Despite giving up your prefect duty, you still helped the first years off to your dormitories after waving a goodbye to him. It made him smile that some things never changed.

The next morning, he was surprised when you sat next to him at breakfast because schedules were being handed out and it was another morning that you were supposed to be with your House table.

“Got it last night,” You said as soon as you sat down, knowing the question before he asked. “I had to talk to Sprout about what I wanted to take anyways since I didn’t really ever decide on a career path.” Your voice was chipper, but there was something somber lurking beneath it.

Snape swept up behind the two of you and Draco was ready to defend you against his Head of House, but Snape simply handed Draco his schedule.

“Very well done,” Snape almost smiled, and for a moment Draco wondered what Snape was referring to. “On your O.W.L.s, you show a lot of promise Mr. Malfoy. As well as you Miss Y/n. I look forward to seeing you both in class,”

When Snape was out of ear shot, you gave him a look and he had no idea and no explanation. Snape had always been bearable towards him, but his contempt for you really baffled him. Draco assumed that Snape would loathe you because if anyone could persuade Draco out of his trial, it would be you. Sometimes Draco wondered why you didn’t.

In DADA the next day, Draco paired up with you and you two began to practice casting shielding charms without the incantation. The whole class was filled with shenanigans. Draco found comfort in the lesson, however. Through the summer break, you two had been working on defense spells against the Dark Arts as well as investing in them.

Draco knocked you off your feet for the third time and he could tell that you were getting frustrated. He offered his hand, righting you.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Yes,” You snapped. “Stupid spell,”

“Do you need a break?”

Your sharp look gave him his answer.

“You must completely trust the spell,” Snape instructed as he walked past. “It does not lie in a precise incantation of the words in your mind, but also the feeling of protection itself,”

Your eyebrows furrowed a moment then you poised. Draco raised his wand, ready to attack you with a Tripping Spell again, but as he cast it, the spell bounced harmlessly off of you and hit Weasley. A smile spread across your face when you realized what you had accomplished.

“Oi,”

And there went that happy moment. Harry stalked up to you and Draco was very close to sending a Tripping Spell at him.

“Hello Harry,” Your voice was calm, pleasant as you paid him no mind, offering your hand to Weasley, helping him up. “Sorry Ron, I guess I figured it out huh?” Your smile was dazzling and sweet and Ron gaped at you.

“How?” Ron asked.

“She’s cheating,” Harry snapped.

You gaped at him.

“Oh, come on really, Harry,” Hermione butted in as Draco strode to your side, his blue eyes meeting cold green ones. “Does that mean I’m cheating as well?”

Draco held a faint memory that you mentioned Hermione defending you against Harry’s remarks while DA was still active. He presumed that didn’t change either.

“Is there an issue?” Snape came towards the small group of students.

“No sir,” You smiled at the Professor. “I accidentally deflected the jinx and it hit Ron.”

“It was no accident,” Harry muttered.

Snape turned to Harry, glowering. “And perhaps you have an inkling of how Miss Y/l/n preformed a nonverbal spell? Since you seem to think she did it maliciously, you ought to know exactly how it works then?”

“No,” said Harry stiffly.

“No, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor.”

_________________________

My eyes widened in shock at the words that escaped Harry’s lips. I could feel the tension grow in the room as Snape’s glare amplified at Harry. I still couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face no matter how hard I tried to suppress it.

“Detention, Saturday night, my office,” said Snape. “I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even ‘the Chosen One.’”

The professor was relatively calm for the situation. Draco, on the other hand, I had to grab his hand and give him a soft look. Going off on Harry in front of a bunch of witnesses was not the best situation to get ourselves into.

“So, how did you do it?” Draco asked as we left the room, class having gotten out.

“I... well,” My cheeks flushed slightly. “I thought about how safe I feel when I’m with you... that night after the tournament... or in the prefect baths after my first detention... that night...”

“Oh,” Draco had turned the same shade of red that I was, and I grinned at him.

We met up with Abby and Pansy as we went to sit at the Hufflepuff table, where the rest of our friends were. Pansy was griping about Ancient Runes homework despite it being the first day and I wasn’t looking forward to the work that Snape had assigned this morning either, but since N.E.W.T classes were only a few times a week, it left the lot of us with more free time to do the work.

Draco and I poured into our homework during our free hour before lunch, and since we had been studying Dark Magic among other things over the summer, it was unintentionally easier that it probably should have been. I intertwined my fingers with his.

“We’re gonna get through this,” Laying my head on his shoulder, I sighed softly. “We’re going to succeed. We’re going to be okay,”

He didn’t say anything, but his thumb stroked the back of my hand. It came time that we parted ways: Draco had double Potions and I had Herbology.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I smiled pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Especially with Potter in that class.” A pause, “I love you,”

“As I love you,” He whispered softly.

I hated watching him go, knowing that Slughorn was teaching Potions and that Harry was in his class. I worried more with each step that we were apart. It was true, we had maybe a week or two until we really had to start our plan and I wanted Draco to try and enjoy the career path of Auror in his N.E.W.T.s until then.

Walking into the greenhouses I saw the two other students composing this section of N.E.W.T. Herbology: Luna and Neville. I shed my robes and picked up a pair of dragonhide gloves. Even though it was the first day, Sprout had bowtruckles out on the desks. Steve seemed to remember me from the year prior and crawled back up on my arm. I took a seat next to Luna and Neville, who were interacting with their own bowtruckles.

They both smiled at me as I took out my notebook filled with my previous years notes from Herbology. It was getting to the point that my torn up, abused notebook was becoming more accurate than Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

“So, you and Malfoy?” Neville asked, his voice shaking slightly.

“Yeah,” I nodded, a tight smile on my lips and looked around anxiously. “Look, I know you two aren’t his biggest fans... but—”

“It’s important that we unite for the sake of the defeat of You-Know-Who,” Luna finished the words I couldn’t bring myself to say. “The Sorting Hat has been saying it for years... you’d think that someone would listen,”

“Harry’s got everyone thinking that Malfoy is some sort of Death Eater,” Neville confessed, and I froze momentarily before recovering.

“That self-righteous prat,” I muttered. “It never ends does it? Between those two? Even Draco is ridiculous about it,” I couldn’t help but laugh as the other two joined in. I sighed softly and shook my head, setting Steve down on the table.

“You know, they’re a lot more alike than they care to admit,” Luna said absentmindedly.

Neville and I were both about to refute the point when it seemed we both paused and considered her words. Was Draco similar to Harry? Yes. That was the simple answer. They were very alike, but on different sides of the same war. Two boys forced into legacies set by their parents and those around them. Powerful young wizards who no doubt just wanted to run away from it all.

“I never thought about it like that,” Neville whispered softly. “Makes Draco seem less...”

“And Harry a bit more...” I tacked on.

Sprout allowed us to interact and study the bowtruckles for the double hour of Herbology as she went over a rough outline for the year course and what we should expect on our finals. I left a few minutes early and rushed to the Potions class before it got out, meeting Draco at the door.

“Well? How’d it go?” I asked expectantly.

“Ask Potter,” He snapped, storming off.

My eyes met Harry’s and we were at a sort of standoff, until I remembered what Luna had said. The one I loved and the Chosen One were a bit more alike than I cared to admit. It softened my glare and allowed Slughorn to catch me in the hall.

“Miss Y/n!” He said merrily. “I missed you on the train, my dear!”

“Apologies,” I offered with a slightly smile. “I was otherwise occupied.”

“No doubt telling Malfoy how pretty he is,” Harry sneered.

“Careful Harry,” I said coolly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were harboring a crush there yourself after my boyfriend,”

Well that shut Harry up. I smiled victoriously, watching the Chosen One turn a shade of bright red in anger as Ron and Hermione tried to hold him back.

“Boyfriend?” Slughorn mused. “I hope I didn’t offend either of you by not extending my invitation to Mr. Malfoy,”

“Not at all,” I smiled kindly—a false smile, “But I’m afraid that I will have to decline your invitation. I’m a firm believer that we are not our parents, who we know, nor what is expected of us.” I bore down green eyes as I said the words. “And I’m afraid I cannot join a club based on that premise,”

“Fire in this one, eh?” Slughorn chuckled looking to Harry. “As you wish my dear,”

“Professor,” I nodded. “Hermione, Ron... Harry,”

I turned and raced down the hall, after Draco who caught me on the first corner and pressed his lips to mine fiercely, easily pinning me against the wall.

“I bloody love you,” Draco breathed out in between kisses.

His hands trailed down my sides and to my waist as my hands got lost in his hair, dislodging the silky hair from the carefully styled gel. His breath was hot as it mingled with mine, his tongue gaining dominance easily. I held back a soft moan and pulled away, panting.

“Who knew that all I had to do to get you to kiss me like this was snark at Potter?” I drawled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips.

“Oh, you have no idea the things I want to do to you,” He muttered darkly, pressing his lips to my neck. “But only when you’re safe,”

A small smile found its way to my lips as I pulled him away softly, stroking his cheek. “I love you Draco,” My eyes met crystal blue ones.

“As I love you,” He pressed a kiss to my forehead as we made our way to the Great Hall for dinner.

Later that night, we were lounging together in the Hufflepuff common room—along with Abby and Pansy, but these days we were hardly seen without each other.

“Luna said something in class today,” I mused aloud, pausing from my bowtruckle sketch,

“When doesn’t she?” Draco muttered, reading up on his Potions textbook for tomorrow, I nudged him playfully.

“She said that you and Harry might be more alike than any of us care to admit.”

I heard his quill snap and watched the ink splatter over his paper. I quickly snapped my finger and the Cleaning Spell did its magic.

“What?” He hissed. “Me? Similar to Potter? Are you daft?”

My eyes dropped as I gritted my teeth. Draco seemed to find himself. Taking a deep breath, he reached out, placing his hand on my forearm.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me, I apologize,” His voice was soft and broken. “Please,”

“Never mind,” I whispered. “It’s... it’s nothing.”

“Y/n,” He called softly, tilting my chin so that I was staring into his deep blue eyes. “I’m very sorry I snapped at you. Please tell me?”

Oh, it was not fair that he could do that to me.

“You’re both... forced into roles you don’t want to play—don’t give me that look, I don’t think Harry wants to save the world anymore that you want to...” I shrugged and set down my quill. “I’m sure he just wants to run away too. I can only imagine... he’s lost his parents... Sirius...”

“He’s got Weasley,” Pansy pointed out, butting into our conversation. “And Granger, and always has. Everywhere they go, they shine. ‘The Golden Trio.’ Remember first year? Slytherin had won house cup until those three showed up? Dumbledore had days to award the points, but he had to wait until the Feast.”

Draco and I both flinched at the name. But I remembered that day well, I was so upset on behalf of the Slytherins, because even though at that time I was terrified of most of them, it really wasn’t fair.

“But can we blame Harry for that? I mean stuff sort of just does happen to him,” Abby refuted.

“Stuff happens to everybody,” Pansy snapped back. “Doesn’t give him a free pass to be a prat all the time,”

The two argued at my focus shifted to Draco, who had gone quiet beside me. His gaze let me know that he was lost in thought, in a different world that wasn’t the one around him. I nudged his shoulder and blue eyes found mine.

“Maybe there was something... once.” He admitted. “But...”

“You’ve changed,” I smiled. “Harry is still a git,”

“Are you saying I was a git?” He mocked offense.

“You were the king of the gits,” I teased. “You used to be so mean to me!” I was almost laughing as he blushed and looked down.

“I was mean to everyone,” He chuckled, pulling me into his lap. “Remember you yelled at me? ‘I have every reason to hate you, but I refuse’,” Draco smiled down at me. “You were something else. Sometimes I wonder if you really are a Hufflepuff when you act like such a Gryffindor,”

“Take that back!” I laughed, slapping his chest. “I am not a Gryffindor!”

“I don’t know Feathers,” Abby drawled. “You’ve got to be stupid brave to take on a Malfoy,”

“I’m not the one whose Patronus is a lion,” I refuted looking up to Draco, who burst out laughing.

“Wait!” Pansy nearly screeched. “Your Patronus is a bloody lion!? What the hell are you doing to him Y/n!? Stop contaminating my Slytherin!” She was laughing, nothing behind her threats.

I could feel my face flushing as I hid in Draco’s shoulder, enjoying the feeling of his body shaking with laughter under me. Something I didn’t know that I missed. It was almost easy, wrapped up in Draco’s arms, laughing with our friends, to forget that we had something much darker lurking underneath.

A week passed as we settled into our classes. Neville had warmed up to me in Herbology and no longer stammered when I tried to talk to him, which was nice. Draco still sulked a bit after double Potions, but it was easy to bring his smile back.

Until Slughorn caught me after meeting with Draco the following Friday.

“My dear Y/n! Just the girl I was hoping to see!” he boomed genially, twiddling the ends of his walrus mustache and puffing out his enormous belly. “I was hoping to catch you before dinner! What do you say to a spot of supper tonight in my rooms instead? We’re having a little party, just a few rising stars, I’ve got McLaggen coming and Zabini, the charming Melinda Bobbin—I don’t know whether you know her? Her family owns a large chain of apothecaries—and, of course, I hope very much that Miss Bones will favor me by coming too.”

It was like Draco wasn’t standing right next to me; Slughorn did not so much as look at him.

“Apologies, professor,” I hissed. “But I think I’ve made it clear that I am not interested in your Slug Club. If you’ll excuse us,” My voice dripped acid as I took Draco’s hand and led him down the hall, seething.

“Love, if you want to go to these meetings, don’t let me be the one to stop you,” Draco sounded crestfallen as he pulled me to a stop. “You’re going to go amazing things with your future, don’t... don’t give that up for me,”

I reached up and stroked his cheek softly.

“My future wouldn’t be complete without you in it.” I smiled softly. “And I know I’ve got the shoes and the dresses to be a Malfoy, but I really am happy to settle down, without a sickle in my pocket, if it meant I could have you. Slughorn be damned,”

Draco rolled his eyes and smiled.

__________________________________

He got a letter from his mother that evening and it seemed like whatever defense you had against Harry faded. The Evening Prophet read that the Manor had been searched for Dark Magic and cursed objects because of an “anonymous tip” to Arthur Weasley.

“That Potter!” You snarled, after hearing that Narcissa had been given much trouble about your room at the Manor because of its heavy enchantments. “He has no idea what we’re up against and he thinks he can just accuse who he wants!”

“He’s right though,” Draco sighed softly. “He was right all along to suspect me,”

Your mood softened as you took the paper and letter from his hands, tossing them onto his desk. You didn’t say anything, and perhaps there wasn’t anything to say as you sat beside him on the bed. Again, he wondered where your soft plea for him was to not do this. To stop his trial because it was wrong. It didn’t come, though.

You and Draco found yourselves every Friday night from then on in The Room of Hidden Things, searching for the other vanishing cabinet. After some persuading, he allowed you to fly as Pinnae around the large room as he meandered the mountains of rubbish.

“Draco!” You called, and he ran towards the sound of your voice.

When he caught sight of you, he also caught sight of your target. He almost sagged in relief. He had become disheartened over the past few weeks, and without your gentle reminders that your plan would work, and that you had allotted months to spare in planning and fine tuning, he might have done something rash.

“I don’t see why we can’t just send him a cursed object or something,” He huffed one night, slamming another book closed. “It’s not like it’ll be hard.”

“Draco,” You sighed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt, on the slight chance that it falls into the wrong hands,”

Your gaze dropped to the table and he was sure that you were finally about to give a spiel about not wanting to do the trial in the first place, and that he should stop attempting, but it didn’t come. What he had to do was wrong and you weren’t refuting it at all. It made him anxious.

Now that everything had been planned out—rather flawlessly between the two of you—it almost seemed surreal to him. Not like Dumbledore had been at the school much anyway. Draco rarely saw him in the Great Hall during meals, and he avoided eye contact at all costs either way.

Draco lounged across his bed—that was more of a nest since you had a habit of finding your way into it most nights—as you came in through the window morphing from Pinnae. In your routine, you slipped off your shoes and grabbed the sweater and sweats he had laid out for you and you went to change in his small bathroom. When you no longer looked a Malfoy, but yourself, you draped over him on the bed.

“So, Hogsmeade tomorrow,” You grinned, excitement in your eyes. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not going,” He didn’t look up from his book, not wanting to see your reaction. Dread settled in his chest at this conversation.

“Why not?” You almost pouted. “We deserve a little fun Dray,”

“You can go,”

“Draco,” You chided, sitting up. “Since when do you not want to go out with me?” The frown and pout of your lip had Draco running a hand through his hair, nervously.

“I can’t go,” He admitted. “I... I have detention,” Draco didn’t dare to meet your eyes.

“Detention?” Your tone held an anxious note. “What...? why? With who?”

He grimaced. “McGonagall. I... I failed two of her quizzes,”

You went quiet for an agonizing half a minute that dragged on forever. After a full minute he looked up at you and deep concentration was written in your features.

“What are you thinking about?” He mused, pulling you into his arms, trying to shove down the ashamed feeling that kept bubbling in his chest.

“Well,” You teetered your head. “How quickly I can get detention before tomorrow,” A small smile found your lips. “And wondering if Hermione would want to tutor you if I asked her...”

“I don’t need a tutor,” He snapped, defensive, but you saw right through his front.

“Alright,” You soothed, rubbing his shoulder. “You know it is okay to struggle in class, right? Talent has to run out somewhere and the skill and practice has to pick up, and if that’s now, that’s perfectly okay.”

His gaze dropped as your words sank in. Was this the tipping point where he couldn’t rely on his pureblood status any longer and would have to work to be good at magic? Something that always came easily to him? The thought scared him more than the thought of failing a quiz or serving detention.

“We don’t have time for me to start to fail now,” His worry left his lips. “I can’t start failing now,”

Your fingers came and cupped his face, stroking his cheek.

“You’re not failing,” The words were soft like the look in your eyes. “McGonagall allows everyone to retake exams and quizzes for full credit and normally her detentions are just one on one time with her so that she can help you,”

“How do you know?” He mumbled miserably.

“Because I was failing in Transfiguration fourth year and she did the same for me.”

“Never told me that,”

You smiled and rolled your eyes.

“Do you want me to ask Hermione if she’ll tutor you? I can ask Luna if you’d prefer.” You asked again, your voice silky soft.

“You could tutor me,”

“And we’d get nothing done because we’d end up snogging all night,” You pointed out with a laugh. “Don’t think I didn’t think about it,”

“So, you think about snogging me all night?” A familiar smirk found his lips.

“I think about a lot of things to do with you at night,” You drawled, just as mischievous. “But...” Sadness replaced the mischief.

“Not until we’re safe,” Draco offered.

“Not even that,” You confessed. “I’ve been reading old papers and rumors and such, and a lot of Death Eaters are skilled in Legilimency, your aunt in particular and the Dark Lord even more so...” A pause. “And I don’t want those moments to belong to anyone but us... and unless you feel like becoming skilled in Occlumency to a degree to defy You-Know-Who in the meantime...”

Draco nodded and pulled you to his chest, rubbing your back softly.

“I love you,” He pressed a kiss to the top of your hair.

“I love you too,” You whispered into his shoulder.

The next morning you took off with a quick kiss, flying back to your dorm before anyone would catch you. He dressed, trudging off to McGonagall’s office, not looking forward to the next few hours at all.

“Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall greeted politely.

“Professor,” He sighed and held his head high, your words comforting him.

It was okay to struggle. He wasn’t failing, he just had to learn. He could do that. He could learn. He could do this... right?

“Now, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall began, “I know that you’ve been doing quite well in class and you’ve been completing your homework in a timely manner. I’m curious as to why you missed out on these quizzes,”

Draco looked down and wished that you were beside him to say the words he never could. You were brave that way, never afraid to admit when you needed help or confess what was wrong.

“As you are aware, I allow all students to make up quizzes for full marks if they can perform the spells and recite the information to me after they have reviewed the information. That is the purpose of these next hours,”

Even though you had told him all of this the night before, there was still a comfort to it coming from the Professor’s mouth. He could do this. He wanted to get better and now he had the whole afternoon and one on one time with McGonagall to get back up to par. As McGonagall began to go over and ask him questions about the spells that had been studied and the methods behind them, he knew almost all of the answers—to both of their surprises, though neither showed it. And when she asked him to transform a kettle into a rabbit, he performed the spell correctly on the first try. McGonagall smiled.

“Draco,” She caught his attention with the use of his first name. “I believe that you are quite skilled in Transfiguration. Consider both of your quizzes to have full marks,”

“But Professor,” He stammered. “I... I don’t understand why I can do it now. And why I couldn’t do it then,”

The smile warmed on the professor’s face, meeting her eyes.

“Some students, Miss Y/n included as I’m sure you’re aware, have testing anxiety. They know all of the information, and can perform quite well, but when faced with the threat of an exam or a grade, they lose focus. It stems from a need of perfectionism, and I assure you, you are not the first Slytherin with the issue.”

Draco nodded.

“Now, I cannot be certain that it is the case with you, I also know that not all students should be measured by what they can write on a piece of paper or recall on a moment notice. You are a gifted wizard Mr. Malfoy, and I do not want you to doubt that, nor do I want you to be confined by a standardized exam.” McGonagall looked over her glasses at him. “If you wish, we can continue these sessions instead of examinations for you, or if you wish, you can attempt my written quizzes again if you feel confident,”

The words sunk into Draco’s mind as he processed what he was being told. He never expected the kind gestured offered to him by McGonagall for a number of reasons and it baffled him. Yet, there was a comfort in it. Maybe he wasn’t failing after all, he just didn’t test well. That was more of a relief than the better quiz grade.

“I think I’d rather do this,” He confessed.

“Very well, every time there is a quiz or exam, you do not have to show to class, but I expect you here the Saturday afterward.”

“Yes Professor,” McGonagall smiled again.

“It’s not too late to head down to Hogsmeade if you so wish Mr. Malfoy, I am done with you for today,” She ordered some papers on her desk. “I’m sure Feathers will be quite happy to get out today,”

He stared at the professor who had a mischievous look in her eye. Gathering his things, he thanked McGonagall again and headed down the hall, where you were more or less patiently waiting.

“Well?” You looked at him expectantly.

“Does McGonagall know about Pinnae?” He asked, distracted and distressed.

“Yes? I thought you knew that. She and Sprout are the ones who helped me,” You took his hand as the two of you walked down the hall. “But that’s beside the point, how did it go?”

“Well, she thinks that I have testing anxiety,” Draco gave. “And that I’m not slipping behind like I thought,”

“That’s great!” You beamed. “Well not the anxiety, I know that sucks, but ya know,” Your smile was contagious as you turned down the hall, towards the dorms.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Uh? The dorms?”

“Did you not want to go to Hogsmeade then?”

Your eyes lit up as you grabbed his hand and all but dragged him down to the small village. Though Hogwarts students milled around the small town, it didn’t hold the same air of magic as it once did. Zonko’s had been boarded up and closed and though most of the other shops were opened, something seemed to be off.

You noticed it, as you clung to his arm, your smile becoming a bit more forced. The sun was hidden by October clouds that threatened to rain any moment. Sensing your distress, Draco quickly ushered you into The Three Broomsticks, where you nearly knocked over Harry.

“Sorry,” You rushed out, offering your hand, even after you realized who you had jostled.

Harry ignored your offer and got up on his own, glaring you down. Draco tucked you to his side, his gaze becoming cold and dangerous.

“Watch where you’re going Y/l/n,” Harry snapped.

“She apologized Harry,” Hermione tugged on Harry’s shoulder. “Now come on, you’re being ridiculous,”

“Me? She’s the one who’s kidding herself,” Harry muttered as he stormed out of the small pub.

___________________________

Hermione gave me an apologetic look, and so did Ron before they followed out after Harry. Draco took a step towards the door, no doubt to go after Harry for a different reason, but I grabbed his hand.

“It’s not worth it,” I murmured.

“Y/n,” He protested. “He can’t just... treat you that way and think that it’s okay,” There was a fire in his eyes.

“He can be wrong, Draco.” I smiled softly. “I know who I am,”

After sulking a moment, Draco gave in and led me to a table in the corner of the small bar, ordering two teas for us. I had a feeling that I just stopped the war from prematurely starting. We had about a moment of peace before there was screaming coming from outside. Both Draco and I rose abruptly, our drinks forgotten, as we hurried outside.

The Golden Trio and another Gryffindor were all standing over a screaming girl who was thrashing about. Draco and I took off running towards then, wands out, ready for anything. Harry rushed off towards the school as we got there.

“What happened?” I demanded.

“I—I don’t know,” The other girl sobbed.

“She’s been cursed,” Draco stooped beside me, his eyes taking in Katie’s writhing form. “Sorry love,” He muttered quickly, and for the moment, I thought the worst before he reached out and snagged my locket from around my neck. I watched as he, with quick and steady hands, placed the necklace around Katie’s neck, who promptly stopped screaming, and it looked as if she was sleeping.

We were all gawking at him when Harry came back with Hagrid.

“You!” Harry threw the accusation. “You did this to her! You slimy little—”

“Harry, he just saved her!” Hermione stood, looking quite dangerous herself. “Now come off this stupid feud!”

“Hagrid, that’s not going to hold long,” Draco spoke urgently, looking at my locket that was draped around the unconscious girl’s neck. “She needs to get to Pomfrey, or Snape.”

Harry looked baffled as Hagrid lifted Katie into his arms and rushed off towards the castle. Hermione hurried over to Katie’s wailing friend and put an arm around her.

“It’s Leanne, isn’t it?” She asked softly. The girl nodded.

“Did it just happen all of a sudden, or—?”

“It was when that package tore,” sobbed Leanne, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which had split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Ron bent down, his hand outstretched, but Harry seized his arm and pulled him back.

“Don’t touch it!” Harry, Draco, and I all shouted.

Harry crouched down. An ornate opal necklace was visible, poking out of the paper.

“I’ve seen that before,” Draco bent down beside Harry their opposition momentarily forgotten, staring at the thing. “It was on display in Borgin and Burkes ages ago. The label said it was cursed. Katie must have touched it.” He looked up at Leanne, who had started to shake uncontrollably. “How did Katie get hold of this?”

“Well, that’s why we were arguing. She came back from the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks holding it, said it was a surprise for somebody at Hogwarts and she had to deliver it. She looked all funny when she said it... Oh no, oh no, I bet she’d been Imperiused and I didn’t realize!”

Leanne shook with renewed sobs. Hermione patted her shoulder gently. I shrugged off my cloak and draped it around the crying girl’s shoulders, holding her with Hermione.

“She didn’t say who’d given it to her, Leanne?” Harry asked.

“No... she wouldn’t tell me... and I said she was being stupid and not to take it up to school, but she just wouldn’t listen and... and then I tried to grab it from her...and — and —” Leanne let out a wail of despair.

“It’s alright sweetheart,” I soothed softly, rubbing her arm. “She’s going to be okay,”

“We’d better get up to school,” said Hermione, her arm still around Leanne. “We’ll be able to find out how she is. Come on...”

My eyes met Draco’s and he nodded, standing, coming to my side. There were thousands of questions in my eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead and draped his own cloak around me, the biting wind whipping around us. I wanted to protest. I wasn’t cold, but I knew Draco would be.

Harry hesitated for a moment, watching our interaction, then pulled his scarf from around his face and, ignoring Ron’s gasp, carefully covered the necklace in it and picked it up.

“We’ll need to show this to Madam Pomfrey,” he said.

Harry and Ron trailed behind Hermione and Leanne, the two whispering in harsh tones to each other. Draco held out his hand and I took it, following.

“I—I’m uh, sorry, about not telling you about your locket,” Draco fumbled out, as if I were going to yell at him.

“You’re apologizing to me for giving me a locket that has been protecting me all this time?” I laughed and looked up at him. “Come on Dray, that was the sweetest thing I think you’ve ever done,”

There was a blush on his cheeks as he smiled at the ground. As we entered the castle grounds it seems that whatever Ron and Harry were arguing about had become very heated. I heard both of our names brought up as Harry stole glances at us. My gaze dropped and Draco held me closer.

“McGonagall!” said Ron warningly, and we all looked up.

Sure enough, Professor McGonagall was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

“Hagrid says you six saw what happened to Katie Bell—upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s that you’re holding, Potter?”

“It’s the thing she touched,” said Harry.

“Good lord,” said Professor McGonagall, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Harry. “No, no, Filch, they’re with me!” she added hastily, as Filch came shuffling eagerly across the entrance hall holding his Secrecy Sensor aloft. “Take this necklace to Professor Snape at once, but be sure not to touch it, keep it wrapped in the scarf!”

We followed Professor McGonagall upstairs and into her office. The sleet-spattered windows were rattling in their frames, and the room was chilly despite the fire crackling in the grate. Professor McGonagall closed the door and swept around her desk to face to face us all. Leanne was still sobbing in Hermione’s arms.

“Well?” she said sharply. “What happened?”

Haltingly, and with many pauses while she attempted to control her crying, Leanne told Professor McGonagall how Katie had gone to the bathroom in the Three Broomsticks and returned holding the unmarked package, how Katie had seemed a little odd, and how they had argued about the advisability of agreeing to deliver unknown objects, the argument culminating in the tussle over the parcel, which tore open. At this point, Leanne was so overcome, there was no getting another word out of her.

“All right,” said Professor McGonagall, not unkindly, “go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock.”

When she had left the room, Professor McGonagall turned back to us. “What happened when Katie touched the necklace?”

“She rose up in the air,” said Harry, before either Ron or Hermione could speak, “and then began to scream, and collapsed. Professor, can I see Professor Dumbledore, please?”

Draco gripped my hand a little tighter at the mention of his name. I leaned against him comfortingly.

“The headmaster is away until Monday, Potter,” said Professor McGonagall, looking surprised.

“Away?” Harry repeated angrily.

“Yes, Potter, away!” said Professor McGonagall tartly. “But anything you have to say about this horrible business can be said to me, I’m sure!”

There was a standoff between Harry and McGonagall that had me averting my eyes at the sheer determination between the both of them. Harry gave in and scoffed, crossing his arms rather childishly. McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“And then I assume that you two arrived?” McGonagall turned to Draco and I.

“Yes,” Draco answered coolly. “We were in the Three Broomsticks and heard the screaming.”

“Did you two happen to see who gave Ms. Bell the package?”

“No ma’am,” I replied. “We were preoccupied with Harry,” My voice was calm and slightly accusatory. “Katie had left before we entered.”

“And I hear that you held a very powerful talisman Miss Y/n,” McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Can I ask where you might have gotten such an artifact?”

“It was a gift,” I clarified. “From Draco,”

Harry scoffed again, but I paid him no mind.

“And where did you get your hands on such a thing Mr. Malfoy?”

“It’s my own creation, Professor,” Draco’s cheeks were slightly pink at the awe and surprise that flitted across the faces in the room. Even Harry seem to sulk slightly less.

“I see,” McGonagall nodded. “Well, I can’t say for sure, but I do believe that you and Miss Y/n may have just saved Miss Bell’s life. And for that I award you each with fifty house points.”

“Professor, you don’t have to,” I protested. “A life is more valuable than house points,”

“Even so,” The professor smiled softly. “We will not forget what you have done,”

We both nodded and Hermione was smiling, and Ron wasn’t glaring at us, so I counted that as a semi-win. Harry still had his eyes narrowed at the two of us and I really wanted to confront him about what he was thinking, but McGonagall swept out of her office and toward the Hospital wing.

The tension grew between the five of us.

“Well?” I raised my eyebrow at Harry. “Let’s have it.”

“Love,” Draco chided.

“No,” I retorted. “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of acting like it’s okay for Harry to treat you like this. You probably did just save Katie’s life and had nothing to do with this and I’m really sure that Harry is still trying to find a way to blame you,” I turned to Harry. “Aren’t you?”

Harry looked down, his cheeks going slightly red.

“And at this point I really don’t give a damn about who might be the Chosen One or who might be a Death Eater!” Both boys flinched. “There is a war coming, for all of us! And I don’t care how much you might hate each other or me! If we don’t do this together, we’re all going to die! And if you would stop acting so childish for thirty seconds maybe you could see that!”

I grabbed Draco’s hand before anyone could respond and dragged him out into the hall. There was an air of sadness in his eyes as he pulled me into a quiet corner. He rested on a windowsill. holding my waist to stop me from pacing.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered softly, leaning against him. “None of that was directed at you,”

He nodded, still not saying a word.

“I really am sorry,” I tried again.

“Will you stop apologizing,” He smiled up at me. “You said what needed to be said, although I do wish you hadn’t yelled about Death Eaters,”

“Sorry?” I offered, for a third time.

“All is forgiven,” He smiled.

A quiet moment dragged between us.

“When did everything become so complicated?” I sighed, sitting in his lap as he wrapped his arms around me, keeping me balanced. The sleet assaulting the window behind us seemed to mock us both with its fury, but for the moment, we were safe from its danger.

We eventually drifted back to the Slytherin common room to escape the onslaught of the rain pounding the windows. Draco still had a knack for keeping me from foul weather.

I thought maybe the storm of the day had passed, until Snape swished into the Common Room requesting an audience with us both in his office promptly. Draco and I shared a look and followed the professor.

There was a familiarity about sitting in the professor’s gloomy office, holding Draco’s hand.

“McGonagall has informed me of your escapade today,” His voice sounded disinterested, but his eyes held a vote of urgency.

“Professor,” Draco began, only to be silenced by the raising of Snape’s hand.

“Neither of you are in trouble. But I must warn you to be more careful. Harry is very quick to accuse and has half of the world hanging onto his words. You two must be more cautious about what situations you find yourselves in if you wish to succeed.”

Snape spoke as if he knew what Draco and I were trying to accomplish, and maybe he did. Anxiety grew in my chest at that thought because with the more people who did know, there was a greater chance that something went wrong and there were too many variables at play. But if Snape did know, then he was very good about acting ignorant.

“And I believe these belong to you Miss Y/n,” Snape grabbed a bundle of silver from under his desk, and on top resided my necklace. “Well done with making quick use of the locket Mr. Malfoy. I have restored it to its original state.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, taking the objects and slipping my locket back on the weight comforting me.

“You are free to go,” He leaned back in his chair. “And do take care, he does not tolerate excuses,”

Our gaze fixed on the professor, gaping at him.

“Potter,” There was a sly smile on Snape’s lips as he lied easily. “Now off with you,”

It wasn’t until we were behind Draco’s locked dorm door that either of us said a word.

“Snape knows,” I breathed out, watching Draco pace the small room. My lethargic mood contrasted starkly against Draco’s.

“Who does he think he is!?” Draco seethed. “We’ve been doing just fine on our own! Now he acts like he cares!?”

“Draco, love,” I tried, only to get a cold look.

“No,” He said firmly. “We have been careful! I have been careful! Snape probably thinks that I sent the bloody necklace! He thinks of me as an ignorant child!”

He scattered the books off his desk. They landed with a crash to the floor. I pursed my lips and waited; my back pressed against his door. Draco stood at the windowsill, facing out, his hands clenched, white skin stretched over smooth bone as they rested against the chilled stone. I counted to sixty then took a careful step forward. A step towards him. With silent movements, I approached him, a gentle hand resting on his shaking shoulders. I could hear the muffled cries that tumbled from his lips. It had been a few weeks since his last panic attack. I hated to say that I awaited it. It had only been a matter of time.

I became his shadow, resting my chin on his shoulder and curling my arms around him, locking my fingers together. My breaths became deliberate, deep. It took a long while, but his shaking soothed and his breathing began to mimic mine. I reached down and smoothed out his fists, his fingers splaying out under mine. He turned, his eyes not meeting mine. I reached up and brushed the remaining tears on his face and began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall from his shoulders.

It was a routine; he knew what was coming when I started to undress him. It wasn’t about sexual desire or want, but survival and comfort. That he could be completely bare before me—metaphorically and physically—and I still would never take advantage of him.

He allowed me to lead him into the small bathroom and start a warm shower. His hands came to my waist, pulling me back into his chest, his nose nestling into my hair. The warm water washed the chill and fear from our skin. Draco sat on the small counter, towels around us both, as I gently worked the white balm into his Mark, as I did every night before. I pressed a soft simple kiss to his lips, stroking his cheek. Still a word was not shared between us.

Curled up and surrounded by blankets and pillows, Draco’s eyes drifted closed.

“I didn’t do it,” He murmured softly—brokenly. “I didn’t send the necklace,”

“I know,” I ran a hand through his damp hair. “I know, my love.”

“I—I wouldn’t...” He stammered. “It... it was sloppy... I—I can’t risk your life by making—making a mistake like that,” There were tears in his eyes again.

I nodded and held him tighter, fighting back my own tears.

“I just need you to live,” He sniffed. “Whatever happens I need you to live,”

“Draco,” My voice broke as I tilted his chin up. His blue eyes held a hopeless brokenness to them. “I need you to live too. I can’t live without you. I wouldn’t make it,” I squeezed my eyes shut. “You claim that I’m pure, that I’m good, but Draco without you, I wouldn’t have a reason strong enough to keep fighting to stay that way,”

His hands came up and tangled themselves in my hair as he pressed his forehead to mine, our faces inches apart as we both cried, believing that the other was worth more that the life it had saved in that moment.

________________________________

When October turned to November and rain turned to snow, Draco had fallen back into a routine with you. Survive the week, eat meals with you, smile just enough, then curl up with you at night and feel free from the world around him. Draco couldn’t deny because of this year at Hogwarts a bitterness grew in his heart towards the school. Almost everything that he had loved about Hogwarts had been lost to him. He had given up being a prefect, and Quidditch. Potions was no longer fun because of Slughorn, who really had it out for him. Harry was almost impossible to deal with and though he rarely spoke a word to Draco in class, he could feel the accusations being hurled at him from the Gryffindor in his mind.

The only comfort, that led to deeper guilt, was that he and you were making a lot of progress with the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things. It was a slow process that required heavy Dark Magic, but between the two of you, it was getting done. A comfort came as well, when Pansy and Abby came to you two, demanding that—though they knew that you couldn’t say what was going on—they wanted to help whenever and however they could. That meant the couple could patrol the halls while he and you worked on the cabinet, having a perfect cover as prefects.

You still amazed him, however. Despite everything, you were still working to unite at least the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs, and with the help of your (and his) friends it seemed to work.

Slytherin hostility had been almost non-existent against the Hufflepuffs, and some Ravenclaws. Something else was to be said about the Gryffindors, but Draco figured there were some things that would never change. To be fair, if you had come to him, when he was a first or second year and told him to knock off the teasing and rude comments to other students, he would have listened, because you were downright terrifying sometimes. A perfect mix of beautiful and dangerous.

“I know you don’t really like him,” You began one night as you both sat under the stars of the Astronomy Tower. “But Slughorn invited me to his Christmas party. Abby and Pansy are going... and I’m allowed to bring someone...”

“Slughorn?” Draco mused, fiddling with a strand of your hair. “I thought you didn’t want to be a part of his little club?”

“And I don’t,” You reaffirmed, shifting so that you were facing him. “But it might be a bit of fun?”

“That’s what you said about Hogsmeade,” He pointed out, enjoying that you were annoyed more than he should.

You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“Well fine, then we won’t go,” You snapped, crossing your arms, dislodging your hand from his.

A smile played at his lips as he pulled you into his lap.

“If you want to go to Slughorn’s little party and take me with you, I’ll go,” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “And I’ll even behave,”

You snorted.

“And if Harry is there?” You raised an eyebrow, the beautiful smile back on your face.

“I seem to remember that you were the one who went off on him last,” Draco teased, smirking. “And I can handle Potter, easily,”

“Okay,” Your smile grew more genuine. “Then we’ll go,”

With Slughorn’s party came the promise of the end of the semester and home. You had put your foot down a few weeks ago that you and he were done working on the vanishing cabinet for the semester, even though it was almost finished.

“And we deserve a few Friday nights to ourselves and to our friends,” You had pointed out.

So, with the end of term, came this stupid party. Draco didn’t want to go in the slightest, after having Slughorn all semester, he was in no rush to spend more time with the man who fawned over precious Potter. But it made you smile, so he’d endure.

“Damn,” Pansy mutter from his side when she caught sight of you—dressed in the new robes you had gotten over the summer and look absolutely perfect in them. “And you’re sure you two are opened for a fun night with Abby and I?” Her question was all but innocent.

“Pansy, please,” Draco dismayed, growing rather warm.

“Just saying’ Malfoy. I love Abby but damn your girl has got it,” Pansy grinned. “Half the school talks about her, boys and girls.” There as a wicked look in her eyes, that made Draco very possessive.

You noticed when you met him at the bottom of the stairs, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Nothing,” He offered a smile. “Just Pansy,”

“Nothing my ass,” Pansy snarked. “Draco he’s a little jealous that half the school wants to shag you,”

You mouth popped open in surprise as Draco hissed at Pansy, who was laughing along with Abby. You turned a deep shade of red, almost matching the crimson on your lips.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you don’t know!” Pansy feigned dismay. “Seriously, what do you two do all day?”

You and Draco fumbled for answers as Pansy shook her head, pulling Abby down the hall as you two followed meekly.

“You do look lovely tonight,” Draco stammered.

“Thank you,” You sounded just as embarrassed.

There was a crowd around Slughorn’s office—students who hadn’t been invited, and if it weren’t for you, he’d be a part of that crowd.

Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn’s office was much larger than the usual teacher’s study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings, so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were bearing, so that they looked like little roving tables.

“I do wish they wouldn’t use house-elves like this,” Your lips pressed into a tight line.

“It’s their job, love,” Draco cooed softly, to appease you.

“I doubt they’re getting paid,” You muttered back.

“Miss Y/n! I am so glad to see you here after all those diligent invitations. I knew I could wear you down,” Slughorn grinned, giving Draco an uneasy feeling and he began to wonder if you truly wanted to be here, or if you had just said yes to stop the constant harassment from the professor.

“Delighted professor,” Your forced smiled let him know that it might be the latter.

Of course, you wouldn’t want to come. How had he missed that? You hated parties and loud places and tons of people. Draco was starting to feel very stupid for not thinking about this for more than a few moments. He almost wanted to leave now.

As soon as Harry walked through the door, Slughorn’s attention was off you and Draco was actually grateful because he could see your demeanor crumbling. He ushered you off to the quieter outskirts of the party.

“Do you want to go?” Draco asked in a hushed tone. “We made an appearance, we can leave now,”

“Look I know you don’t like Harry but—”

“Forget about me,” He snapped. “You don’t want to be here, do you? I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it,”

You look softened and your mask fell for a moment.

“I... It’s not so bad,” You decided, looking around. “And I know you want to be here,”

“I thought I said forget about me,” Draco tilted your chin up. “Right now, I want to know what you want to do,”

Your eyes scanned the crowd as you bit your lip. If it had been any other situation, he would have simply gone mad with how you looked right now including your lip worrying, but there were more pressing matters.

“I’m okay,” You decided, smiling—a real smile. “I... It’s not as bad as it used to be,” You admitted.

Draco studied you a moment more, then nodded, leading you back out into the fray. It came to a point that Hermione bumped into him. He caught her arm before she could fall completely and you turned, seeing that the commotion was.

“Oh, Hermione,” You smiled. “You look lovely,”

“So, do you, goodness Y/n, those are very nice robes,” Hermione gaped a moment before remembering herself. “If you’ll excuse me,”

“Wait,” You grabbed her hand. “I heard you were going out with McLaggen, whatever happened to Ron?”

“He’s with Lavender,” She said stiffly. “Now please, I have to go before he finds me again,” She said distressed.

“Granger likes Weasley?” Draco mused.

“They have first names,” You chided softly. “And I think they do like each other, they’re just not too sure of how to show it,” You shrugged. “Nothing for me to fret about.” Your smile returned.

After a while, Draco fell into his normal schmoozing routine that he was accustomed to, and now you were as well. Even though he held a powerful family name, all eyes were on you tonight. It reminded him of one of those fairytales you had read to him... Cinderella maybe? He’d have to ask you later. And though Draco wanted to sulk that you were getting more attention than him, like he would have years ago, something felt right about this. You were an amazing witch with— apparently—a well-known father and skills beyond your grade level. You deserved to be praised, after everything you had accomplished, he was proud of you too.

“Oh, Draco.” An airy voice caught his attention. “Y/n mentioned coming here tonight. I never thought she would though,” He turned to see Luna Lovegood staring at him. “She doesn’t like Slughorn much, though I suppose she could just be defending you.”

“Luna,” He greeted softly, drawing your attention as well.

“Luna!” You said excitedly, drawing the other witch into a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Harry invited me. We came as friends.” Luna lit up as the words fell from her mouth.

“And Neville is okay with that?” You stopped short—Draco wondered how you seemed to know all of the relationship gossip in the school.

“I don’t think he knows. Harry only just asked me today,” Luna looked off into the distance. “Would he be upset?”

“Luna, the poor guy's head over heels for you,” You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully. “I think you should go talk to him when this madness is done,”

“Suppose you’re right. You always know just what to say Y/n. A fine Hufflepuff,” Luna smiled and hugged you once more, before heading off into the part goers.

“Do you just know everyone?” Draco teased lightly.

“Luna and I have class together,” You refuted. “And she’s a sweetheart, both her and Neville.”

“Such a Hufflepuff,” He grinned, ducking away from the jab he knew was coming at him.

“Better than Slytherin,” You snapped playfully.

“What’s better than a Slytherin?”

Pansy and Abby strolled up, along with Blaise and Greg, both couples looking quite cozy. Greg, for the first time since Draco had known him, looked rather cleaned up and poised next to Blaise—who always looked flawless—confident on his own rather than following orders.

“Pretty much anything,” Abby snickered.

“You’ll pay for that Bones,” Pansy hissed, sending a sharp teasing look towards her lover.

“I can’t say that I share your sentiment either, Miss Bones,”

Draco felt you tense as Slughorn join the group of friends, pressing further into his side. He held you close.

“Slytherin is a fine house. Filled with many rising stars, like Mr. Zabini here,” The round professor nodded to Blaise who was lost in a goblet of mead, looking like he didn’t particularly want to be the center of attention at this moment.

Draco caught the cold look that fell upon your face, and he had to admit that Pansy was right: you were dangerously stunning and if the world wasn’t going to hell in a handbasket, he’d preferably make sure that you and everyone else in the school know that he was the only one with the privilege to shag you.

“I think it’s time we go, Draco,” Your voice dripped ice daggers.

“Oh, my dear, don’t leave. It is Christmas after all, the more the merrier,” Slughorn slurred, not reading the discomfort among the group.

“There’s better company to keep,” You smiled sweetly.

You shared a look with Abby, who looked about to murder, same as you. He wondered what you had told Abby about Slughorn, and what in turn she had told you. Gauging the intensity of the look, it couldn’t be anything pleasant.

“Come on Pans,” Abby muttered. “Y/n’s right. Just a bunch of brown nosers with no talent,”

“And to think I expected more from you two,” Slughorn gripped.

“Shame,” You drawled. “The feeling is mutual. But don’t worry professor, I’m sure your precious Potter would love to entertain you,”

Draco couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips, Blaise and Greg joining.

“Merlin, Draco you really are rubbing off on her,” Blaise chuckled. “You’re one kickass Hufflepuff, Y/l/n,” He raised his glass towards you and disappeared into the crowd, pulling Greg with him.

He watched you and Abby share a short conversation in sign language before Abby took Pansy’s hand and lead her towards the exit. Draco followed their lead, trying to, as politely as possible, avoid the party goers who wanted to strike up a conversation.

“I can’t believe I actually went to that,” You muttered out in the hallway, using his arm as a support to take off your stilettos. “I can’t believe you didn’t talk me out of it,”

“I did try,” Draco smiled softly, taking your shoes from you, taking your hand. “And it wasn’t so bad,” He tried.

You thought a moment.

“I guess not. I did get to see you look quite dashing tonight. Almost makes up for not going to the Yule Ball fourth year,” The smile returned to your lips.

“I do recall inviting you to a Ball that summer,” Draco mused.

“Ah, yes. When you told me I wasn’t your type,” You grinned with a laugh.

“And I was so close to being free of that taunt,” Draco feigned dismay as he smiled down at you. “But I’ll admit it, I was wrong. You are exactly my type,”

You gasped mockingly, a hand coming dramatically over your heart.

“Did Draco Malfoy just admit that he was wrong?”

“Oh hush,” He rolled his eyes, thinking maybe the party wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Epilogue:

“It is Christmas,” I murmured softly. “I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Y/n,” Draco stressed, coming up behind me, leaning against the desk I was sitting at.

“I know, I know. What she did was awful, and I wish I didn’t have to decide, but...” I sighed and leaned back in the chair, tilting my head back so that I could meet his eyes.

“It’s Christmas,” Draco sighed pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And you’re nothing if not forgiving,”

“Worked out for you didn’t it?” I smiled.

“Yes dear,” He chuckled. “I’ll go tell my mother that we should expect yours for dinner then.” He paused. “Actually, why don’t you do that? She’s not going to yell at you,”

I laughed and spun around in the desk chair.

“Afraid of your mother, are you?” I baited.

“Respect,” He clarified. “And she’s been a bit... since father has been gone,” I nodded and sighed, turning back to the written letter on the desk and sent it off via owl. “We’ll go tell her together then,” I stood, taking his hand.

Chapter 8

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