#about being unable to die.) please help if you've seen her

[kraniumet]

the reason gintoki looks back in that "walking past each other in the street" scene is because he's like "wait that was takasugi". meanwhile takasugi doesn't look back because he intended to walk past gintoki as part of his evil plan (seeing gintoki)

#the scene where they walk past each other doesn't really happen in reality for real though so we don't have to think about this #I am skimming MANY ARCS trying to find one specific image i'm sure ive seen before (image of a boat spaceship over edo (?) with a monologue #about being unable to die.) please help if you've seen her #gintama

[raineydays411]

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

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

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

@loxbbg

@its-emma-asinme

@zagreusdaughter

@animealways

@dead-sane-stuff

@avitute

@khaleesihavilliard

@d3m0n8ch1ld

@almostjollypizza

@anniebannanie0315

@tracysnook

@edlothia-baby

@noom147

@justanotherravenclaw

@gamocity

@eposadomd

@defiantbalde12

@lilyalone

@sillypastasludeland

@cassini-aming-the-stars

@pietrosbae

@bring-it-on-home-johnb

@romanoffmaximoff0096

#marvel x reader #avengers x teen!reader #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #x reader #reader insert #dc comics x reader #marvel #batfam #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader

[notbornbutforged]

Nightmare

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: No one else is here to listen to her, no one to comfort her – and that, more than anything, really hurts.

Warnings: angst, shit writing

Word Count: 745

Navigation | N.R Masterlist | W.M Masterlist

Nightmares are not new to Wanda's life. She can remember every one of them. They're just a little harder to bear when she wakes up, in tears and clutching her stomach, shaking and breathing heavily, unable to stop the thoughts that run around inside her head.

That's the thing about nightmares – they are constant and unrelenting. It seems like every time Wanda closes her eyes she can still see the red blood spilling from your body, staining the ground, dripping from her hands, pooling at her feet, and soaking the hem of her shirt –

She remembers the sound of the gun going off, and how hard you hit the pavement when the bullet struck your chest. The way your body crumpled to the ground, and you fell into silence. The blood that was dripping out of your mouth pooled on the ground next to you, and the sight alone made her stomach twist, the memory of it making her nauseous and sick to her core.

It’s been six months since you died but Wanda still remembers it as if it happened yesterday – how she felt like she could only scream after watching everything unfold before her eyes, helpless and completely incapable of doing anything to help you.

How helpless she felt knowing that there was nothing she could do to save you. No matter what she does now, the guilt is always there. There is no escape from it. And yet, despite how much she has tried, the nightmares are not getting easier.

Her sleep is still restless at best and filled with vivid dreams of you bleeding out in front of her. She doesn’t know what’s worse – seeing you die again and again, or waking up. Both have been terrifying for her, leaving her feeling like a caged animal, unable to do anything but watch the death play out, helpless and useless until she woke up sweating. Sometimes the panic attack comes first and then the nightmare takes over again.

But she can't blame it all on the nightmares. After all, it was her who had put you in danger. Her fault. It's her fault for being so careless and weak. It's her fault.

It's her fault.

It's her fault.

Her fault.

Her fault.

Her fault.

Her fault.

If only she had seen the enemy sooner… maybe she could have saved you and maybe none of this would have happened. She could have stopped them before they hurt you. And you would be here now, safe and sound. Alive. Maybe even sleeping soundly right beside her.

But you aren’t.

You are dead.

Your life is gone and she'll never get you back because you’re gone.

Gone.

Gone.

GONE.

Gone.

GONE.

Gone.

GONE.

Gone.

GONE.

Gone.

You’re gone forever. You’re never coming back. She didn’t protect you enough, and now you’re dead. She didn’t keep you safe and protected. She killed you.

Wanda lets out an angry scream and slams her fist against her bed frame. The wood splinters under her fist. “Stop it! Stop it!”

It doesn’t stop.

She screams and yells, pounding her fists, screaming herself hoarsely. But it doesn’t feel satisfying at all, nothing about this situation makes sense.

You should be alive, you should be here. You should be with her right now. Safe and sound. Instead of rotting away somewhere in the afterlife. You shouldn’t have to suffer like this, she can’t understand why –

Why did she have to lose you? Why? Why?

Why? Why?

Why? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?

She stops, panting harshly. A tear escapes her eye and rolls down her cheek. “I don’t understand,” she whispers, brokenly. “This can’t be happening. You've already taken too much from me – why did you have to take her too?!”

There are no answers to any of her questions, which only makes her cry harder, and her sobs echo through the room. “What am I supposed to do without her? What am I going to do without you, Y/n?” Her voice breaks again, this time out of pure grief. “Please come back to me. Please come back to me. I need you."

Nothing. Nothing except the rain falling outside. And the cold breeze blowing through Wanda's open window. No one else is here to listen to her, no one to comfort her – and that, more than anything, really hurts. The pain is unbearable – but the loneliness isn't far behind.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda x reader #marvel #lgbtq #wlw #angst prompt #shit #pagod nako bhie

[existentialcrisistime]

I would like to know more about your favourite Scottish indie/folk musicians, please.

I'm not gonna lie, after nearly twelve years up here I'm still just dipping my toes into the music, so I'm far from knowledgeable, but here's a non-exhauative list of bands & artists I've been enjoying:

Frightened Rabbit — of course, especially the albums The Midnight Organ Fight & Pedestrian Verse. Sad I never got properly into them at their peak, but I very much enjoy them now

Aidan Moffat (of the band Arab Strap) — his song/poem The Copper Top has been on loop in my head lately

One you've most likely heard of — Belle & Sebastian. One of the bands I loved when I moved up here, introduced to me by a friend, and I've still got a soft spot for their older songs now

Ballboy — possibly one of my all time favourite bands/artists, that I've loved for nearly two decades, and I've never met anyone else who knows of them without me introducing them. At least 50% songs mention being unable to sleep, I think, and with the main guy being Gordon McIntyre who I believe has a day job as a school headteacher, that absolutely tracks. Club Anthems 2001 & A Guide For The Daylight Hours are my favourite albums, but I adore them all. I've never seen them properly live, but I did see them play some Mountain Goats covers as part of a charity TMG cover festival in like 2015? and I caught Gordon McIntyre's solo album release gig the other year too (he's still writing songs about being unable to sleep)

Chrissy Barnacle — an artist I've never caught a headline gig of, but I must have caught her supporting at least five different bands over the years (including the aforementioned TMG covers event I believe). Great voice, deserves more than 45 Spotify listeners for sure

The Spook School — I got into these because a friend was/is dating one of the members, but I'm a massive fan now and they're great ! Very queer jangly indie-punk, they've split now (or rather, gone to the moon), but their tunes are excellent and their members are doing some great things individually

Admiral Fallow — I got into these guys purely through Spotify in the last year or so, and I'm yet to listen to their full discography, but the three songs constantly rattling around my brain are: Squealing Pigs (in my head that's an AOS Kirk song too), The Paper Trench, and Guest of the Government

Mogwai — another one you're more likely to have heard of. Definitely more post-rock than indie, or as I like to say, music to lie on floors to. Take Me Somewhere Nice was the first song I heard by them, shown to me by an ex before we started dating (so it must have been good). They also have a song called George Square Thatcher Death Party if that helps sway you. I was friends with I think the bassist's partner for a while (that's the thing about Scotland, it's two degrees of separation with everyone), and I've seen them live countless times. Albums close to my heart are Rock Action, Come On Die Young (CODY), and the Les Revenants soundtrack (an excellent show too)

I'm sure there are MANY more I'm missing, especially the 2010s Edinburgh indie scene that I always used to catch at small gigs and Record Store Day events when I lived there, but hopefully this is a good starting point and an introduction to a few bands you haven't yet heard of!

#music #Nic stuff #Scotland keep my bones #Scottish indie #ask #anon

[pptheshort]

The leap chapter 2 Albert wesker x GN reader

❗⚠️Warnings: Toxic behavior, possessiveness, slightly decision of death/being killed. Please read with caution if any of these things are triggering to you. ⚠️❗

A/n: Hello bitches and bros and nonbinary hoes! Little A/N here so I had to rewrite chapter 2 because I was satisfied with the original one. I may publish it as a later chapter or publish it as a alternative chapter 2. But I don't think it would make much sense since the original chapter 2 is very fluffy best to say. It had a kiss scene and everything 😳

Summary: Instead of Jill jumping out of the window to save Chris you take her place. Unaware of the things that will take place in the future. One simple decision has now completely changed your life for the better or worse?

Word count: 1,906

Chapter 1:

___________________________________________

It's been two weeks since your last encounter with Albert, the only form of human contact you had was with your doctors and nurse and that wasn't enough. The doctors came in for an hour while the nurse was coming in to check vitals and give you food so it was for maybe a couple of minutes. Then you would be alone, being alone by yourself made you think about many things. Escaping was one of the things you thought of but you could barely walk and the door in your room was always locked but that didn't stop you from forming a plan. It was a decent plan at best.

You had slightly memorized the time when the nurse would come in. Today you wanted to make a slight attempt to escape or maybe get another object that would benefit you in this plan. Over the course of a week you managed to steal a bobby pin. It wasn't much but it was something. 

But the constant fear of getting caught by Albert was what you feared the most, you could only walk with a cane and you couldn't run yet and you could barely stand for five minutes. So if you did escape and the people who worked in this facility found out, Albert catching you would most likely happen. The thought of him running up to you scared you so much. You were pulled back into reality when the sound of the door unlocking filled your ears. It was 12:45pm a bit early for the nurse to come in, you stared at the door. When it opened you saw Albert walk in, he was wearing his normal attire and trademark sunglasses. You stared at him not saying a word, when Albert closed the door the sound of the door clicking once again filled your ears.

"Why hello there Mr. Wesker." You wanted to get him on his good side so that if you did escape and he caught you maybe he wouldn't kill you. You decided to refer to him as Mr. Wesker to try to get on his good side. You almost cringed when you said Mr. Wesker.

"How nice of you to greet me." Albert responded he had a smirk on his face when he said that.

"How are you today?" You began to ask hoping everything is going accordingly.

He began to sit on the end of your bed, Albert opened his mouth to speak: "I would say it's going very accordingly."

"That's good." You nodded your head in response to him.

The two of you sat in silence, you looked down at the bed sheets while Albert was looking at you. You felt nervous, scared is the best thing to say. You didn't want him catching onto you, you ripped his thoughts when Albert cleared his throat.

"You've been here in this room and I'm surprised you haven't made a big fuss out of it, you know if you keep up this good behavior I'll maybe allow you to walk around the facility with supervision, of course." Albert said as he moved closer to you.

'This is going to be easier than I thought, huh?' You thought to yourself. You nodded your head and put on a smile for him: "Thank you."

Albert once again moved closer, his face now inches away from yours. He grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. This made your heart race, Albert had let out a chuckle: "You know you are a very good specimen so why not take you out on a little walk. Wouldn't you like that, hm?"

You felt so embarrassed and slightly humiliated you could tell he was toying with you like how a predator toys with their prey. Instead of saying anything you decided to nod your head.

"Now what do we say?" Albert said in a mocking tone. At this point you knew he was toying with you, trying to get under your skin.

"Thank you."

Once again Albert started to speak but this time he had let go of your face and stood up: "That's a good specimen."

You couldn't help but almost cringe when he called you that, you are already running thin on patience so one more thing out of his mouth is going to be the end of you. Albert offered to hold your hand, without thinking you took his hand.  Albert pulled you close to him, you almost fell down due the sudden movement but Albert caught you.

"May I grab my cane, to help me walk. Please?" You asked

Albert nodded, you reached for the cane that was near your nightstand. Once you grabbed your cane you followed Albert who was waiting by the door.

'This is my chance to escape. But what if it doesn't work? Fuck it if I die here it will be better than being here.' When you reached Albert you heard the sound of the door unlocking, you noticed he was holding a key in his hand. When he proceeded to open the door without thinking you jabbed your cane into Albert, this caused him to fall over and drop his key. You took this opportunity to take the key and leave the room. When you left the room you slammed the door behind you making sure you locked it. Because you couldn't run you ended up speed walking through the empty hallways. Entering some rooms here and there to find any weapon to help you defend yourself against Albert.

When you entered what you assumed was a supply closet, you heard footsteps running pass the door and a familiar voice saying "You can't hide forever!"

Your heart began to beat fast, you had to compose yourself. This wasn't the time to panic. Standing for such a long time puts a strain on your legs, walking becomes harder to do. So staying in the supply closet was a must do. You sat in there for what seemed like 30 minutes once the pain died down a bit you stood up and started to head back into the hallway. Once again you walked the seemingly endless hallways, and you almost got caught by Albert a couple of times. You managed to not be seen by the workers in this facility.

You reached an area where there were no workers, you explored through it and found a door that could possibly lead to the exit. You began to walk faster with your legs once again in agonizing pain. You almost reached the door when you saw a familiar figure near the door.

'Shit!'  You thought to yourself you began backing away when Albert began to approach you. You ended up trying to back away, unable to hide your emotions anymore fear ended up controlling you at this point. When Albert was now in front of you he began to chuckle a bit.

"This was such an entertaining game, it was so fun seeing you run around the facility thinking you were going to get out. You should see the look on your face, y/n." Albert cupped his hands on your cheeks.

"Let me fucking go." You spotted him.

"Hold your tongue, if I could I could kill you right now. Once again you probably want that."

"Why are you doing this?" You asked your voice slightly cracking

Albert had paused to think about his answer. He ended up ignoring the question all together. Albert began to change the conversation back to this whole fiasco. 

"I'm having so much fun that I'll allow you to continue this game we are having but y/n get a little more creative next time, dear heart."

You hadn't heard that name in a long time. Albert would call you dear heart when the two of you dated. You almost cringed when he said that name again, you tried to back away from him but he didn't let you.

"Remember when I would call you that? Or you begged for me to call you that." 

You didn't want him to say another word, the Albert you fell in love with died back in July 1998 now that's left is a sick power hungry man who only wants to change the world to match his expectations. Albert noticed how this was seemingly getting under your skin now, reopening old wounds. A part of him wanted to stop but he ended up counting to 'tease' you.

"Remember on that day, when we went to the Spencer mansion? It was the day before our anniversary, you seemed so excited to give me your gift but th-."

Before Albert could finish his sentence you had shouted at him to shut up. Seeing how you reacted he felt bad. This was out of character for him, he was soon snapped out of his thoughts when you had pushed him away. You had ended up falling backwards.

"Why am I here? What do you want from me?" You asked, your voice slowly rising.

Albert walked next to you and squatted down next to you. "Y/n, you are here for many reasons. But one of the reasons is because I want you by my side once again. I want you to be mine again, after all these years I thought my feelings for you would've died off but my dear Y/n they haven't. It only got stronger after all these years. '' Albert's tone was now more gentle. He was regretting the things he did, he made sure you didn't catch on. 

"But-."

Albert had shushed you before you could even say your sentence. "Allow me to finish. Why don't you join me, if you do we can be together once again or you don't. Nothing is stopping you from refusing my offer." Albert had ended up pulling you closer to him.

You thought about it for a moment but joining him would increase your chances of escaping and getting out of here. A part of you couldn't completely understand what he was saying to you, just a moment ago he was trying to play with your emotions so why did he suddenly have a change of heart. It was a high possibility he was lying but you wanted to believe him because similar to him you still had feelings but at this point they were so 'dead'. You made your decision, you were going to join him.

"Fine, I'll join you."

Albert's face lit up and it was noticeable too. Albert said anything else he picked you up, grabbed your cane and started to walk to your room. On the way over there he began to speak.

"From now on I'll be coming into your room to come see you more often my dear."

That's all he said you nodded your head in response to him. Once the two of you reached your room Albert placed you down on your bed but before he left he asked for the key back, you gave it back to him. When Albert left the room he locked it behind him, after waiting a couple of minutes you couldn't help but slightly cry in what you assume is frustration. You wished you never jumped out of that window but if you didn't Chris would've been killed and who knows what would've happened to Jill. 

'I'll make sure I get out of here, no matter the cost I will.'

#albert wesker x reader #resident evil #albert wesker #resident evil x reader

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Two - Gutless

WORD COUNT: 4k

WARNINGS: Death (murder), brief descriptions of gore, Isla and Jax doing something very illegal

MASTERLIST

The morning sun was beating down upon the pair a little bit harsher now, inducing a sheen of sweat to coat over Jax's forehead.

But the perspiration could've formed as a result of coming to the realization that he'd just blown the brains out of an ATF agent, left his body to decompose on Tara's bathroom floor, and spilled his guts--not even twenty-four hours later--to Isla.

Jax knew that he could trust her with anything--he always had been able to trust her with anything. But there was something telling him that she didn't exactly feel too wonderful about his revelation.

Her arm lifted to run across her forehead, ridding the skin of a few salty droplets.

"What do you mean--"

"I mean I put a bullet through his fuckin' skull and blew his brains out, Isla! That's what I mean."

He ran a thumb over his lips, realizing that he should've kept his tone subdued so close to the main doors of the clubhouse.

"Jesus, Jax." She breathed out, pinching the bridge of her nose as he started to pace quietly. "I--I can't believe you're telling me this."

Well, she could. Really, there wasn't anything she could've put past Jax anymore. And when it came to Tara...The man was an idiot. Always had been.

"Why was Kohn even at her place?"

Jax was fidgety. Uneasy. She couldn't blame him for that, could she? Because he'd just fucking killed a man--but still.

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

"Or did you lure him there or something--"

"Shut up." He growled, grabbing her bicep with his left hand as he pulled her to the side of the building. "Just listen to me."

"I'm listening, Jax, but you don't seem to be telling me a lot."

Realizing that he wasn't offering very much explanation, he nodded. Jax let go of her and beckoned her closer, pleading eyes melting her fucking heart.

"Isla, please." He wrapped his arms around her, minding the bloodied shirt.

"What do you want me to do?"

Ringed fingers splayed over her cheek, pushing stray blonde hairs out of her face. He sighed hard. Exasperated.

"Help me get rid of him--"

"Jackson--"

"I'm not asking you to lug his dead body to the creek and throw him in. I'm just asking you to offer a helping hand and be a lookout or something."

Isla searched his features for a morsel of something that'd indicate Jax was messing with her. But he was dead serious--his face set to neutral, eyes glazed over.

"But--I--what about Cameron?"

"Tara and Chibs have it covered." He murmured, heeding the apprehension sail over her.

She was as strong and willing as she possibly could've been. Isla was consistently the person that Jax and Opie would turn to for advice when it came to their girls, or when they needed to be pointed in the right direction.

But he'd never asked her to do such a thing before.

Her loyalty outweighed her nervousness, however. He knew she'd never say no to helping him with such a matter--but it was still asking too much.

Chibs would've been furious that Jax felt it necessary to beg Isla for assistance during such a time, too. Hell, Gemma would've admonished him for it.

"Where is he?" She mumbled, hearing the clubhouse door open and an irritated grunt sounding from the front of the lot.

Jax held her close to his chest, a hand tracing over the skin of her shoulder that'd been exposed as the shirt fell to the middle of her arm.

"Tara's place." His whisper was monotonous, bordering on lifeless.

"Okay--when do you need to do this?"

He eyed Tig storming from the building and toward his motorcycle, completely unaware of the two conspiring.

"Tonight." His voice came low and gravely. "I'll ride to her place now, and you go home, get yourself cleaned up, do whatever you've gotta do today, and we'll head there--"

"I'm not cleaning myself up. I'm already covered in blood--I don't think I need to destroy another shirt."

"Okay." Jax's lips rubbed together, almost turning upward into a smile. "But don't follow me out, alright? Go tell Gemma that you don't know where I went, and then you take it from there."

"And if Tara asks..."

A gentle kiss against her forehead almost forced tears to collate in her eyes.

"She won't ask--she knows I've gotta do this."

Isla silenced herself, though she nodded and watched as Tig--pissed as hell--rode out of the lot and onto the street.

She guessed that he was still piqued after she and Chibs yelled at him.

And she was still pissed at Jax, but for a different reason now.

This time, she wanted to slap the shit out of the blonde idiot standing before her, requesting help with disposing of a literal dead body.

Isla couldn't quite believe that Jax had turned to her and not somebody like Opie--somebody who would be able to help a little more physically--but she could only assume that it was more of a trust thing.

He had a lot of faith in her and she lauded that. But it also saw her get thrust into some questionable situations.

"You look like you're gonna puke." Juice stifled a laugh as Isla padded in, the bottom of her shirt wrenched between bloodied fingers. "Are you good?"

"Yeah." Instantly, she responded. "I'm fine. I just need to get my purse."

Clay was nowhere to be seen--possibly in the back room with Chibs and Tara--but Gemma's eyes focused on the blonde's form as she strolled across the wood.

"You don't look fine. Come sit for a little while."

"I'm gonna head home--"

"Where'd Jax go?" Gemma cut in, lifting an eyebrow conspicuously.

Tell Gemma that you don't know where I went.

"I don't know." She frowned, sitting on the barstool opposite the woman. "We shared a cigarette, talked about Abel, and then he told me he had to go--where, I don't know."

Did she feel bad about roping his child into their little lie? Yeah, a bit. But it was foolproof. Gemma never would've suspected anything to do with Abel because, really, Jax brought him up to everyone whenever he got the chance to.

"Ah. He's probably headed over to see him. I'll go--"

"I wouldn't." Isla pushed. "He's trying to get some alone time with him. He said that he hasn't really been able to spend one-on-one time with Abel all too much."

Which wasn't a lie. Jax needed to spend those rare solitary moments with his baby because his mother couldn't seem to leave St. Thomas for more than three hours at a time.

Gemma just hummed, turning away.

She knew how he felt. But she was Abel's grandma--she just wanted to know that he was safe and being looked after.

"I'm sorry, that was mean...I just think he's a little confused right now, and could use five minutes with his son."

"No, you're right." She nodded, unable to heed the trepidation flitting over Isla because she felt bad about coming down on Gemma in such a way.

That woman was a Godsend to Jax, his children, and even Isla's family. She didn't deserve to be randomly admonished for wanting to visit her baby's baby. Not after everything she'd done for them.

Well, besides trying to murder the mother of Jax's first born. That was a little fucked up--even by SAMCRO's standards.

But Isla adored her. For everything she had done for her during the time she'd resided in Charming, Gemma was regarded extremely fucking highly in her book.

"Go home, baby. Get some sleep, too--you need to rest."

Isla waved her off. "I'm not tired, just feelin' a little gross."

"I'd bet." Gemma pushed her lips together, smiling as much as she could've. "You go yourself pretty again, and swing by later for dinner."

"Yes ma'am." She mock saluted, reaching for her purse.

Goodbyes between Isla, Gemma, and Juice were uttered for a few moments before the blonde made her way to the door.

Her eyebrows raised inquisitively, urging her to turn back to the duo.

"Gem?"

"Mhm?"

"Was Tig alright?" Sincerely, she asked. Feeling a little guilty about snapping earlier.

Gemma didn't say anything but her head bobbed in confirmation, providing Isla with the answer she needed.

The Irish in her shone through during instances like those. She was brash in her actions, words, and the fact she'd always speak before she thought--but the solemnity with which she would ponder, apologize after making a mistake, was just so plainly Irish.

Isla was kind. Caring. Nurturing. She was everything that SAMCRO was not--but, at the same time, everything that Chibs was. Reliable. Loyal. Committed. A true ride or fucking die.

Everybody trusted her, and nobody second-guessed confiding in her.

And, once again, that had its reparations alongside a multitude of perks.

"Holy mother of Jesus." She cursed, the unmistakable Belfast twang flickering through her brusque tone.

Jax haphazardly pulled the bed-sheet over Kohn's lifeless frame, turning to face his little friend who was, to put it lightly, fucking stunned.

"You sound super Irish when you're mad."

"I'm glad you could recognize that I'm mad at you, Jax." Her eyes never once left the outline of that dead body half on Tara's bedroom carpet, half on the tile of her en-suite.

Getting to her knees, disregarding an incredulous amount of blood decorating the walls and carpets, Isla pulled the floral cover off of Josh.

She sighed. "Why'd you do it?"

"He was stalking Tara--"

"So you just blew his fucking brains out?!" Her shriek was guttural. "Jesus Christ, Jax. And you idiots think that Tig is the one with a trigger problem."

"He does have a problem, and you know that! This was different!" He countered, pulling her to her feet. "This was fucking restitution, Isla!"

"No." Calmly, she stated. Her glare piercing. "This was fucking stupid. Possibly the most idiotic thing that you've ever done, Jackson."

His head shook as he sneered, towering over her. Isla felt intimidated. For the first time ever, she felt an unwavering sensation of overawe whilst in the presence of her best friend.

"He was a bad guy. He had to die."

"But he was fucking ATF! Hale is gonna get your ass, and there's nothing Unser will be able to help you with once he gets wind of this--"

Isla's voice cracked around a small sob. She wasn't even aware of the tears welling in her eyes, but they were there the entire time.

It was the thought of Jax making one incredible life altering fuck up--one that he wasn't going to save himself with a bribe, or the simple luck of a good connection to Charming PD--that was maiming her uncomfortably.

Jax's arms wound around her trembling waist, hugging her tightly against his palpitating chest.

The sheer terror visible in her mannerisms was what frightened him. Isla never seemed to scare very easily--or, at least, she didn't show it.

She was fearless, but she was still human. And he had only seen her crack twice. Both times because of the club, too.

"He was stalking Tara." He reinstated, circling his fingers over Isla's svelte spine. "They dated when she was in Chicago, she broke things off but he was a clingy motherfucker and he wouldn't leave her alone."

"She should've gotten a restraining order or something." She mumbled into his chest, sniffing back tears.

"That's the thing. She did. But he broke it by coming back to Charming, pretending to be setting up shop at the PD with Hale, but he followed her around town for a couple weeks instead."

"And nobody questioned why he wasn't getting anything done?"

Jax's head shook. "He was still working for Chicago--or so he said, anyway--so Hale just assumed any intel for whatever the fuck it was he'd been workin' on was going straight back to the big bosses."

She was struggling to follow on.

It was such a convoluted scenario that Isla never thought she'd become entwined with--though, with Jax and Charming being, well, Jax and Charming, she didn't know why she ruled something of the sort out.

"Are you gonna tell Gemma and Clay--"

"No. This is between us, and Tara."

Isla didn't have the energy to bicker with him again. She didn't want to bicker with him again, truthfully.

"Alright, what's the next move, then? 'Cuz this pig can't stay wrapped up in a sheet for too much longer or else he's gonna start to stink this place out."

Jax situated both hands against crimson coated shoulders, lightly pushing her backward so she could look up to meet his gaze.

"I got a plan. But I don't think you're gonna like it."

His eyes went straight to the lighter atop Tara's bedside table, right next to the pineapple scented candle, and she sighed hard.

The man was so sadistic. It wasn't even slightly discreet anymore, really.

Whereas Clay had always been ruthless, remarkably barbaric toward those who had wronged him--or anyone, really--Jax had more of a moral compass. Not much more, but a little. And that was the sort of thing that tied him straight to JT.

But Clarence Morrow had a much more potent impact on Jax's life, thus the man's foibles ended up transpiring to his stepson.

"This is seriously fucked up."

"I know." He didn't even try to argue, pushing Josh into the small grave he'd spent the last ten minutes digging at the pit of a deep, deep ditch.

Isla's body was below freezing, cold and uneasy at the prospect of potentially being caught, or assumed as an accessory to the murder of a federal agent.

"I'm sorry for roping you into this." Jax stated, almost reading her mind. "I just didn't know what else to do."

She ran a hand over his forearm, resting her head comfortably against navy-cotton covered flesh. "I know."

He didn't expect the woman to douse the dead body in gasoline, set it alight, and wait all night for the corpse to torrefy entirely--but she was there now. There was no reason she shouldn't go to the trouble of lighting the first match.

Tara should be the one doing this, Isla thought to herself as the small stick caught alight. She dropped it atop the sheet, taking a few steps backward when the thing immediately shot up into thick flames.

Jax engulfed her warmly with both arms, holding her tightly as if continuing their prior embrace. It felt safe, unusually so. But, to Isla, it felt like he was scouting for that security more than what she was.

"I can't believe you committed murder for a woman that you haven't seen for ten whole years." She laughed against his sweatshirt, eyes watering. "Is there something going on with you two again?"

"No." Huskily, he responded. "There isn't, and there won't be, either. I just swung by her place to make sure she was alright--I knew she was having trouble with that fucker--and he was there. I had to do it, Isla."

"I know."

She didn't. She did not know. She did not want to know, either. She couldn't fucking believe he'd acted out so rashly, how he was so trigger happy.

Jax was morphing into a different man and she couldn't help but pin that on the club.

"Is she alright?"

"I don't think so." His mumble was barely audible, but she caught it.

Isla squeezed his arm reassuringly, knowing that he felt bad about bringing that sort of trouble to Tara.

"She will be." She confirmed. "She's a strong girl, Jax, she'll be okay."

It didn't kill her to speak positively about Tara, she still held a place in her huge Irish heart--but it was an odd sensation to be mentioning her at all.

Ten years had passed by and Isla wasn't even certain that she was still alive. Her concern for the doctor seemed to dissipate over time because Tara didn't want anything more to do with them, so they didn't try with her.

Maybe it was a pang of jealousy that held her back. She was undeniably envious of the fact that she'd gotten out of town, worked her ass off, and experienced bigger and better things.

But, essentially, everything led back to Charming, and Tara Knowles had ended up falling into that same heap of trouble she left behind a decade ago.

Isla pulled her cellphone from the back pocket of her jeans, groaning when she saw the time.

"We've got an hour before Gemma wants us for dinner. You think this son of a bitch is gonna turn into dust within the next sixty minutes?"

"No." Jax laughed, leaning to his left and propping his head atop hers. "But he'll be unrecognizable in the next twenty."

"Perfect."

It was barbarous. Vile. Inhuman.

Isla's mother would be spinning in her grave if she knew the chaos she'd managed to find herself meshed with. Diane would kill Chibs, too.

She'd kill him for roping her baby into such malice after leaving Belfast. She'd want to throttle the Scottish son of a bitch for welcoming little Isla Áine Telford to SAMCRO, to Charming, to Jax fucking Teller.

They weren't natives to the small town, nor were they natives to California. Chibs had just moved from charter to charter. Continent to fucking continent. And taking his little angel along for the ride wasn't exactly planned until his late wife took her very last breath one stormy morning.

It was the most upsetting thing he had to do, telling his daughter that the woman she looked up to and adored with every fiber of her being wasn't coming home.

He'd been in the army, he'd seen things no man should've ever seen, but the sight of that six year old--teary-eyed and partially cognizant--was something that cut him so deeply, Jimmy O'Phelan's mark didn't seem to scratch the surface of Chib's inconsolable hurt.

"I think we're good now." A little nervous, Isla noted.

She simply couldn't wait to get out of the bitter chill, into a hot shower, and to the dinner table at the Teller-Morrow residence.

Jax surveyed the scene. He crouched down, heeding the flicker and sick crackle of flames engulfing the barely fleshed body.

"I think so, too." He confirmed, throwing her the keys to his SUV. "Get outta the cold--I'll finish up here. K?"

She nodded, clutching the chain close to her chest.

Isla wasn't sure how badly she was trembling until she sat still in the passenger seat, watching the club's VP commit the unspeakable.

Really, she wasn't shocked to find out that Jax was capable of the sort. Burning a man dead was better than burning one alive, and she was thankful that Josh had been put out of his misery before his body was cauterized into dust...Which was more than what could've been said about Kyle Hobart.

She remembered overhearing the club's plans to sear, or slice, the SAMCRO tattoo from the back of that brute once they'd gotten wind of his inability to black it out.

And she would've felt bad about that man getting viciously harmed, if he didn't fuck Opie over and subsequently land him in Chino to serve five years away from Charming and his family.

It was cruel, she knew that. To blowtorch the MC tattoo from the stretch of his back, was fucking cruel. Isla knew that Tig was adept at causing such blistering agony, but she didn't think he would actually go through with it, least of all with such delight.

Isla feared that man sometimes. Clay's right hand, the man who sought to protect her, fucking terrified her because he was so unpredictable. So fast acting.

"He's done." Jax officially confirmed, sliding into the driver's seat. "You okay?"

She was staring off into space, her eyes glazing over at the realization she had just helped dispose of another human being.

"Isla--"

"I'm good." Finally, she spoke. "I just--uh--I just wanna get cleaned up and head to dinner now."

He pinched the keys from a frail palm, sticking them into the ignition. All the while wondering what the fuck he was going to do with the shaken up woman to his right.

Twenty-three years of friendship, and Isla never once thought she'd be involved in such incredulous activity. Jax never thought she'd get hauled into it either, really.

Juice was right. She looked like she was going to throw up, all pale and sickly.

He had done that. Jax was, essentially, the reason that Isla seemed as though she wanted to crawl out of her own fucking skin. Granted, she was already feeling rather discomfited after tending to Cameron's laceration for hours on end--at odds with her father and Tig for that time, too.

But now this...This made Isla feel horrible. Dirty. Disgusting.

"You want me to tell Gemma you're not feeling it tonight?" Jax looked beside himself, noticing her head hanging low as she flared out of the window. "So you can skip seeing everybody--"

"No." Flatly, she responded. "No, I wanna make sure Tig doesn't hate me."

"Why would he hate you?"

"I yelled at him." Isla sounded downcast, sad. "He was watching, being awkward, trying to tell me what dad and I were doing wasn't going to suffice, and I just snapped."

In understanding, he hummed. He knew how irritating Alexander Trager was. Irritating, insufferable, it was all the same.

"He won't hate you for that." Comfortably, Jax rested a hand on Isla's thigh.

She barely felt the ringed fingers gently gliding along her jeans as she shook. It was a tremor, light and unnoticeable to the naked eye, that Jax felt reverberate through his entire body through his palm.

"I don't think he's managed to be pissed at you for more than fifteen minutes at a time."

"Yeah." She mumbled, shifting awkwardly. "Yeah, you're right. I'm too sweet for anybody to stay mad at me--"

"I wouldn't say you were sweet."

She smacked at his hand with a laugh, throwing her head backward as her smile started to fade.

It was bittersweet.

Bittersweet because she was realizing that Tig had pardoned her for being a bitch, but she had also just disposed of a dead body on the side of the freeway.

Bittersweet because, now, there was no clear path for her and Jackson and whatever happened was just going to happen and they had to grin and bear it. Pretend it wasn't eating them from the inside out.

Bittersweet because their families--their family--were currently sat around the oak table in Gemma's dining room, waiting for the pair to waltz in after doing the most heinous.

Bitter. Fucking. Sweet.

"Where were you guys?!" Tig pointed his beer bottle at the duo, heeding Jax's hand in Isla's back pocket.

Of course, to Trager, that was more than just a comfort thing. He didn't know what they had just done--nor would he--but she was going to let him believe whatever the fuck he wanted to as long as it wasn't the actual truth.

"It don't matter." Clay dismissed, gesturing to Jax and Isla's designated spaces at the table. "They're here now. That's all I care about."

Her smile was warm, friendly and welcoming while she sat in between her father and partner in crime. Literally.

Chibs nudged her. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Slowly, she uttered. She reached for the wine glass that Gemma had so kindly laid out for her.

The two blondes made eye contact for a few moments, Jax's crystalline hues completely lifeless. Arid. He nodded toward her, an indication that he was feeling alright.

But Isla...She wasn't. Lying through her teeth was the only feasible means of getting over this. Whatever this was.

"I'm fucking brilliant, dad."

#tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction #jax teller

[friendly-philosopher]

Forbidden Feelings and Hidden Corners: Draco Malfoy X Reader

Finally! I've posted this for your request! Thanks for requesting. I don't know if this was what you expected, but I hope you'd like it. Happy reading!

"I am asking you for the final time boy! If you don't accept the mark from the dark lord, I'll have to find ways to make you accept it." The Lestrange woman sneered at her nephew.

Narcissa Malfoy stood hidden in the darkest corner of the room, blending with the darkness, making Draco doubt if she was really there. He knew she wanted to help him, but the wizarding laws, the wedding laws, and the way she was brought up made her unable to speak against her sister who was obsessed with the dark lord, nor her husband who had his arms crossed, staring at his son, who had become the biggest disgrace to the Malfoy bloodline, with disgust.

"Are you taking it or not?" Bellatrix snapped once again.

Draco let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. The moment he did, all he could remember was her – his sunshine.

He could remember all the beautiful memories with her. Her stunning smile, her radiant face, her ethereal beauty, her angelic laugh, her soft kisses, everything about her, only her!

He remembered how she would interlock her fingers with his. He remembered how she would cuddle with him. He remembered how she would run her fingers through his hair. He remembered how she would hug him from behind, announcing her presence. He remembered how she would make him lay his head on her stomach, hugging him and falling asleep on the couch. He remembered how she would hold him, when everything became too much for him to handle. He remembered how she would hint soft kisses on his head, forehead, nose and finally his lips. He remembered how they both would spend their nights in the astronomy tower, star-gazing.

Finally, he remembered the way she would mumble "I love you"s in between the kisses. Now, he wished he could have told it back to her. He had always been a very private person, building walls. She was the first one to break many of those walls. Yet, he was afraid to tell her that he loved her.

But she waited. She knew how he was when it came to feelings. She knew expressing emotions weren't his strong suit. So, she was patient enough to give him the time he needed, and he appreciated it.

But now, he regretted taking too much time to just state a fact - the fact that he loved her to the moon and back , she was his everything and he wanted a forever with her.

"No!" he heard himself whisper.

"What?" Lucius snapped.

"No! I'd never take the mark nor become a death eater." He stated firmly and felt proud of that bravery.

Lucius glared at him but Bellatrix just laughed an evil, cold laugh that could rival her master's.

"We'll see my dear!" she told him in a sickeningly sweet tone and left Draco's room, motioning his parents to join her.

***

(Y/N) (Y/L/N) missed Draco Malfoy. If someone had told her that she would miss him so badly that her heart will ache for him, four years before, she would have laughed at them. But now, after years of getting to know the true him and loving him, he had become everything to her. She had caring friends and was really grateful for them, but she missed him.

True, their relationship was a secret one, and no one knew about them. But it didn't mean she loved him any less. She loved him all the same and she knew he loved him too, even if he wasn't so vocal about it. She loved spending time with him, and wasted all her days anticipating their midnight meetings.

Her being a Gryffindor, a muggle-born and worse, a part of the golden quadruplet, and best friend to the golden trio and Draco being a pureblooded, a Slytherin and worse, a Malfoy, had them not go public in mutual understanding. But she did love the memories of the midnight, and they took care of their forbidden feelings in their in hidden corners!

But, it had been a week - a week since holidays were over, a week since school had started, a week since she had seen him, a week he didn't attend school. She decided to write him an anonymous letter to find if he was okay. If he got the letter, he would recognize her handwriting immediately. If it somehow, fall in the wrong hands, then they can't know it was from her. Boy, how wrong she was.

She sent a letter to him. It contained a simple question : "Are you okay? Missing you!"

***

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the Sixth year for the Golden quadruplet. They were enjoying themselves. Even (Y/N) had pushed aside her worries for a few hours and enjoyed the time with her friends. They decided to head to the 'Three Broomsticks' for a butter beer. While they started walking, suddenly everything became dark and they could feel themselves being grabbed harshly and being aparrated to somewhere.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she found herself in a dungeon. She could see her friends in some sort of jail.

She heard someone calling her. The voice was so familiar. Her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes widened. It couldn't be!

"Draco!" She whispered, turning around.

She saw him. It was really him. But his hands were held behind his back by his father while his aunt stood near him.

"How is our little surprise, Draco dear?"

"Let them go!"Draco snapped, pulling his hand away from his father's grasp and reaching for his wand. But before he could even point it against her, Bellatrix disarmed him and bound him with a rope. His wand fall down near his legs and he was forced to look at Bellatrix, now circling (Y/N).

"Ahh....I take it you are the pretty little mudblood that bade my nephew turn against us?" (Y/N) remained silent. "Did you seriously think we can't find you if you didn't sign the letter. Our pure blood magic is way better than that!" She spat.

"Shove your pure blood pride up in your - "

But before she could finish her statement, she fell to the floor, screaming.

"Draco, you take the mark or enjoy watching her die a slow and painful death."

Tears flowed freely from Draco's eyes as he watched the love of his life on the floor, screaming an writhing in pain.

"Please, stop it!" He screamed.

"Will you take the mark, then?"

Before he could answer (Y/N) spoke "Draco, don't. They are gonna kill me even if you take the mark. They'd never let us get together. At least, I'll die knowing I saved you from a terrible fate!"

"Shut up, mudblood! No one asked you to speak" Bellatrix sneered, throwing another "crucio" at her.

Magic is a wonderful thing. It can understand emotions more than any human being ever could. And it did. When Draco felt love for her, anger at his father and aunt for doing this to her and frustrated because he couldn't do anything to save her, his magic swooped in to save the day. His magic came out of his hand without a wand, blasting the iron bars open, freeing the Golden Trio and bursting the lights of the dungeon.

Bellatrix's wand flew away from her hand and so did Lucius's. He caught it and threw them to the trio, before picking up his own, grabbing (Y/N) and apparating to the first place he could think of – The Shrieking Shack. He saw that she was unconscious. She carried her bridal style all the way through Hogsmeade, towards Hogwarts. People stared at him throughout the way, but he didn't care. He walked as quickly as he could, because the only thing he cared about was saving her.

Draco was in a daze all the while – explaining the situation to the matron, the headmaster, Professor Mcgonagall and Professor Snape ; the golden trio rushing in, out of breath, apologizing to them for all his faults and his bullying, his hateful attitude; them forgiving him after seeing the way his own family treated him but saying that it would take them sometime to accept him for who he really was.

Finally, (Y/N) decided to open her eyes. Seeing her best friends and boyfriend having a civil conversation, she thought she was having a dream. But the memories of the past hours came back to her and she sat up suddenly, her body feeling like it was set on fire.

"But why did they take us to make you get the mark?" Harry inquired, stupidly.

"Er.." Draco uncertainly glanced at (Y/N), thinking if it would be appropriate for him to tell them without her, only to see her awake.

He immediately rushed to her, and hugged her gently, like she was a glass flower who'd break at the smallest level of pressure.

"I'm sorry" he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"It's okay!" She told him, cupping his face and gently peppering kisses all over his face, finally landing on his lips, locking it with her own. As they pulled away from the kiss, they could see the totally gobsmacked faces of Harry and Ron, and a slightly shocked yet satisfied look on Hermione's.

"Uh....guys.....I have something to tell you."

"I've been doubting this since the Christmas break of the last year!" Hermione whispered.

"Guys....We really love each other! You've seen him only as a pureblooded Slytherin bully but I've seen the other side of him. The one that has emotions and insecurities, fears and desires, just like a normal person. And I fell in love with that side of him. But you are important to me as well. I would be happy if you accept us!"

"How long has this been going on?"

"Um...We started being civil to each other from the time he was scratched by Buckbeak. You know I love helping around in the infirmary and I helped him. Then we met in the Astronomy tower, quite coincidentially but then started meeting each other. We got into a relationship by the beginning of the last year."

"Are we that bad friends, that you've been lying to us for years?"

"No! The problem was you guys were amazing friends and I felt guilty about loving someone who you considered your enemy! But I couldn't help it. We can't control who we fall for, can we? You guys are very important to me and I didn't want to lose you. I love you too much to lose you!" She said, and she could feel tears leaving her eyes. Draco interwined his fingers with hers and squeezed it. The trio didn't miss his movement. They sighed.

"We understand that he does care for you, or the deatheaters would have never used you to threaten him."

"But one thing Malfoy! You hurt her and we kill you!"

(Y/N) beamed and Draco smiled.

"I would never even dream of it! I love her too much to hurt her!" He said, looking into her eyes. Their gaze locked and they smiled.

There was a war approaching, those were dark times, but they were there for each other. He had her and she had him. And to them, that was enough!

(A/N: Hope everyone liked it! Requests ae still open and you can request me in the comment section or PM me!

Until the next update

- Mischief Managed!)

#draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco fluff #draco fanfiction #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x female reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x gryffindor reader #Harry Potter #harry potter series #golden trio era #harry potter fandom #harry potter universe #harry potter fan #hogwarts #Hogsmeade #Lucius Malfoy #bellatrix lestrange

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 03 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 2.1 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (02)

Next part (04) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

Memories From The Past

“I was with the same group of people since the world fell apart. Me and six other people.” Slowly you start, keeping your voice down so Daryl will be the only one to hear it. “We were fine and... One day we had to leave the house because there were too many dead around... So we... We left and this group found us. They were good, they offered help.” How stupid you were to believe it. To go with them and trust their kindness. Kindness, now, is rare. It's used as a trick, a trap. And you fell for it. “They had a couple of houses, lived well together and... It was normal, for a week it was normal. I-I was starting to feel safe when...” Your body shakes, like a leaf, and Daryl moves closer, pulling the blanket over your shoulders. “The men started making... Propositions. And I would never do that, and-and in the beginning they were okay. They respected my decision, but soon, it... They started getting aggressive. I told my group and we decided to run away during the night but they found out.” You're crying, sobbing, a hand on your heart. “They got us. And-and all the others were useless. Four men and two older women, so they killed them. They had t-these dead tied up and they made me watch as my friends were eaten.” It's hard to continue, to push the words out, to revisit that day. Those days, endless. The hours that never seemed to end.

“ ‘S alright. That's enough.” Daryl says, but you push the blanket away, freeing your arms from underneath and holding his hand. You just need to make sure he's real. That he's here, the man who saved you, who won't let anyone hurt you again.

“They locked me up after. They... They told me they didn't want to... Rape me... They wanted me to enjoy what they did. T-the humiliating, degrading sex, the extreme bondage, the cuts, the wounds, the pain. All of it.” You decide to just say it, spill it out, as fast as you can just to get it over with. “But I wouldn't. I wouldn't and I was thinking they'd just kill me. I was ready but they didn't. They came every single day, I stopped counting after a month, to ask me to surrender but I never did. They beat me, kicked me, cut me, spit on me. They used to drag one of the dead to the basement and leave it there, groaning at me for days.”

“That's enough. Ya don't have to–”

“Then a herd came. I heard it. I heard it killing them so I just pushed myself up and crawled through a window.” You look down at your arms, the grazes, and scratches from the glass. “I fought with a man for the car, and he gave me this–” You tilt your head to the wound on your left thigh. “–right before one of the dead got him. So I started driving, and I kept driving until the gas was over. I stood there as the dead came, surrounded me and I just wanted to die.” You're head is spinning, and you feel like you're just about to faint. “I wanted to die until you found me.”

The look on his eyes kills you. Why is he in such pain? Why is he looking at you like... Like you're breakable. Like you're broken already. Maybe it's because you are. And you will never speak of it again. You will never let these words come out of your mouth. The memories are more than enough to torture you day after day.

“Nobody will ever hurt ya again,” Daryl says, his voice filled with anger, a kind of anger you never witnessed before. “I promise ya. Never.” He pulls you into a hug, carefully, but you just move into his chest, biting back a wince when pain spreads through your body. You're sobbing, uncontrollably, and you're sure the tears are soaking Daryl's shirt. It hurts to cry. “Shh. ‘S alright, babygirl. Calm down, ‘M right here with ya. ‘M right here.”

“Will-will they kick me out?” You stutter, still hiding your head on his chest.

“No. Yer not going anywhere, hear me?” Daryl pulls away, just enough to look into your eyes. “Hear me?”

“Can you stay with me? Please.” Holding on to his shirt, you beg, unable to bear the thought of being left alone.

“Of course.”

Relieved, you pull him, moving to the side a little despite the pain. Daryl hesitates a bit before moving, resting his back against the headrest as you move to lay your head on his chest, pulling your legs up, basically curling into him.

You're not sure how long he stays there, in silence, a hand caressing your hair. But when you start getting hungry, you know he'll have to leave eventually.

“(Y/N),” Carol calls from the door frame. “Can I bring your lunch?”

Nodding weakly, you watch as her smiles and leaves.

“I need to talk to Rick,” Daryl says, carefully moving to stand up, making sure you'll be comfortable against the headrest. “Him and Deanna. So they'll stop bugging ya about... What happened before.”

“Will you be back?” You ask as he stands up, holding his hand.

“I promise I will. I won't leave ya alone.”

Nodding, you force yourself to let go of his hand. Carol brings you lunch and you struggle to eat without her help. It always takes a while, and Carol talks through it, even though you don't answer. You should though, she's been so kind to you, patient, doing everything she can... It's unfair to give the silent treatment.

“Thank you.” You say when you're done eating, handing her the empty plate. The words still sound low and weak, and you don't feel as comfortable as you feel with Daryl. “For... For everything.”

Her lips break into a smile, bright and sweet. “You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to help.” Carol moves to hold your hand, but you're quick to move it away. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I just...” Looking down, you feel another tear rolling. “Sorry.”

“It's alright, honey. It's good to see you feel comfortable around Daryl.” The mention of his name warms your heart. “I've never seen him so protective of anyone.”

“Daryl is...” Your hero, your anchor. He's the only thing holding you up, keeping you from falling apart.

“I know. I can see it in your eyes.” Carol stands up, giving you one last glance before heading to the door. “And I see it in his eyes too.”

You're left alone again, with your thoughts and memories. Daryl only comes back a few hours later, telling you he had spoken to both Rick and Deanna, and your stay in Alexandria was allowed. He says they usually make a small gathering to welcome new residents, but it'll only happen when and if you want it. You don't. In fact, you don't think you can leave this house just yet. You haven't even left the room, just for a few minutes every morning, when the streets are empty to get some sunlight. Anything else doesn't feel safe.

Later that night, you're wide awake after a quick nap brought the memories back as nightmares. So you just lie there, facing the ceiling, in the dark, shaking like a leaf. Even though the silence, the walls, and blankets covering you, you feel unprotected, exposed, vulnerable.

“The morning is coming.” You tell yourself, whispering, barely hearing your own voice. The sun will come back, the darkness will vanish and... And you'll probably feel pretty much the same way. “The morning is–” You're cut short when you hear footsteps, quickly pushing yourself up, biting back a moan when your body hurts. But your whole body relaxes when you see Daryl walking by, through the open door. He stops when he sees you, confusion on his face.

“What are ya doin’ up?” He asks, stepping inside the room.

“I'm not sleeping.” You mumble, not sure if the answer makes much sense. “I don't sleep. Not much.”

“Why?” Daryl sits on the edge of the bed, and you lie back down, holding his hand as usual.

“Bad dreams.” You admit, your eyes on his. You can't see the blue in this darkness, but you don't have to. Feeling his stare is enough to calm you down, make you relax. “If you... If you stay here– If you sleep here I– Maybe I can...” The words get all confused, as you understand what you're asking of him. But you need him, you're suddenly aware. If he's here through the night, you'll feel safe. You'll be able to sleep, knowing he's around.

“Ya want me here?” Daryl says, his voice low as if he didn't want to disturb the night.

“Yes, but... If you don't want it's ok. I– I'm just...” Restless, you move a little, feeling stupid for asking Daryl such thing. But you need him so much. Tears start rolling down, so you look away, breathing fast.

“Alright, alright.” You feel when he starts moving, and you do the same, sliding to the side to give him space. “Careful.” He says as you push yourself up a little, heart beating fast at the sensation of having him here.

You're not thinking much, and when you use your left leg to push your weight up, you feel a sting and a sharp pain spreading through your leg. A groan leaves your lips at the same moment, and you wince in pain, freezing in place. You feel wetness on the wound, and you quickly push the blankets away, all air leaving your lungs when you see blood staining the white bandages.

“Calm down.” You hear Daryl's voice, but you're hyperventilating, the agony of the flesh wound reopened bringing tears to your eyes. “Carol!” He shouts, startling you a little. “Lemme see.”

You nod, lying back down as he moves the blankets away, his hands just brushing against your skin. “It's ripped.” You moan, trying not to move, despite how your body is shaking.

“What happened?” Carol gets here quickly, her eyes wide.

“Go get Denise.” Daryl's voice is urgent, and it sounds like an order. She doesn't say anything before bolting away. “You'll be alright. I'll remove the bandages, ‘s that ok?” With your eyes closed, you nod, barely feeling his fingers on your skin as the dressings are removed. Soon enough you feel the cold wind on your flesh. “Some stitches are ripped. Not all of them.”

You barely hear his voice above the agony, covering your face with both your hands. “It hurts.” You mutter, feeling stupid for stating the obvious.

“I know. Denise will–” He's still speaking when Denise comes in suddenly, saying something you can't understand.

She's soon working on your leg, applying local anesthesia before anything else. You're relieved when the pain starts to fade, but you can't look. You feel the blood flowing out, and if wasn't for Daryl holding you, you'd lose it.

As Denise stitches you up, you have your back on Daryl's chest, his arms encircling your waist. You try not to shake, not to move, but it's hard. The tears come flooding again, as the memories try to haunt you. “ ‘S alright, babygirl. You'll be alright.” Daryl says on your ear, and you close your eyes tight.

He stays even after Denise leaves, still holding you as you hold on to him. The silence is comfortable, safe, and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep.

“How long have you carried me here?” You ask, voice low and weak.

“Four days.”

“Four days?” You move to look at him, but his grip gets tighter, holding you in place.

“Careful. Ya gotta move slowly.” Settling back into place, you nod. “I had my bike but I didn't think ya could hold on so I carried ya.”

“I'm sorry...” Whispering, you grab a handful of the fabric of his shirt. “It must have been exhausting.”

“Don't apologize. All the way I was prayin’ I wasn't bringin’ ya here just to bury ya.” His chest vibrates, moving up and down as he breathes.

“You kept me alive.” Taking a deep breath, you rub your hand on his chest, as if making sure he's really here. Your hero. You will never understand why he did that, or how much trouble he put himself through to get you here, to save you. “Your voice was the only thing calling me back into consciousness and... For so long I just wanted to die already but you... You made me want to try. To live.”

“And ya will live now. I promise ya, (Y/N).”

A small, quick smile comes to your lips. Even though it's gone too soon, it feels good to know you still that the capacity to do such a thing.

And it happens again, in the morning after, when you open your eyes to find Daryl still in the bed with you.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd

#daryl imagine #imagine daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #imagine daryl dixon #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead x reader #imagine the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead fanfiction

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Past // Day 2

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 1,700+

Warnings: Trauma, Airplanes

Author Note: I hope people enjoy!! I planning on Part 3 coming out tomorrow but I’m struggling a little on the chapter and I have some Headcanons to get through so it might come out Sunday instead.

<—(Pt.4.1) / (Pt.4.3☀️)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight

We're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland…

“Ladies and Gentlemen. Thank you for flying with Amazon Aircrafts this afternoon. We will be landing in York New in about 5 minutes. If you would please, buckle up your—“

Suddenly as the Flight Attendant was announcing your descent, you feel your shoulder being tapped at.

“In a second…” You murmur out, too absorbed in the book you were reading. You were hoping to finish this last chapter before you got off the plane but as you feel another nudge at your shoulder, it is now highly unlikely you will.

“What do you— Shal!”  You gasped out, quickly shutting your book with a thud once you saw what he was doing. “You can’t take Chloe out of her crate on the aircraft!”

“But (Y/nnnnn),” Shalnark whines out, cradling Chloe closer to him so you couldn’t take her away, “I just want her to watch the aircraft landing with me.”

“Shal. You can’t be serious.” You deadpanned at him. You can’t believe Shalnark has only known this cat for less than a day and he is already so attached to her. Hell, he even whined for a whole hour when you thought about allowing a friend to babysit Chloe instead of bringing her on the trip.

“Fine. Fine. Just don’t get us caught please?” You sighed out, giving up on convincing the childish man next to you.

“Thank you (y/n)!” Shalnark shouts out gleefully, “By the way, you should watch the landing with us. York New City is amazing at sunrise.”

“Uh…” You look down awkwardly at the middle seat—currently holding Chloe’s crate—in between you two. “There’s not much room— oof!”

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence, Shalnark grabs your arm and pulls you towards him. For a man that is injured, he sure had amazing strength. Then again, he was able to break your hand the first time you two met when he was in a way worse condition.

“(Y/n) Are you listening?” Shalnark calls out to you, his voice right next to your ear surprising you.

“Uh. N-no sorry,” You choked out. Your head feeling like it was spinning once you noticed that you were basically being cradled to his side; With one hand pressed against the small of your back to keep you still.

“I was saying look at the clouds. They are so pink, they almost look like cotton candy.” Shalnark murmurs out, his minty breath fanning at your face. However, even though you should probably look at the clouds like Shalnark said, you can’t bring yourself to look. Your attention was trapped on Shalnark’s piercing aquamarine blue eyes that were staring down at you. Honestly, in your opinion, getting to see his eyes up so close was much better than any natural view that he could show you. “(Y/n)...?”

Startled by his sudden call, you feel yourself snap out of the trance you were in.

“O-oh yeah they are.” You stutter out turning your attention away from Shalnark. Also missing how he was leaning in towards you as you pull away.

That would prove to be the longest aircraft descendent of both of yours entire life.

—.—.—.—.—.—

“Ah finally here!” You yell out, dropping your bags down on the hotel room floor and flopping onto the bed. You hear Shalnark chuckle at your silliness before dropping his bags as well.

At the sound of his racing feet, you let out a yelp in surprise as you see him jump at you. His arms and legs bent so he doesn’t land on top of you and crush you as he falls.

“Shal!” You yell out, slapping his chest playfully. “You shouldn’t do that sort of thing. Especially with those injuries.”

“Sorry Doc.” Shalnark teases out before flopping over next to you, causing you to giggle as the bed springs up and down. As you stare up at the ceiling, you think how you were just glad Shalnark was getting back to his old self again. Getting out of that stuffy hospital definitely helped him. Though…

You turn your head to look at Shalnark. A question still on your mind ever since late last night when he spontaneously suggested this trip.

“Hey Shal.”

“Yeah?”

The bed squeaks underneath you as you shift your body, now laying on your side to look at him. “Why did you want to go to York New of all places?”

There is a silent pause that drifts through the air. You watch as Shalnark lifts himself up from the bed to lean back on his elbows, seeming to think about what to answer.

“I…” Shalnark’s words seem to die in his throat. It takes him a couple of seconds before he can start again, “It just felt right coming here… It was the final place the troupe went before everything went to shit.”

As you look up at Shalnark, his face has turned away from your gaze, making you unable to read his expression. Carefully, you shift closer to him; offering him some comfort as you wrap a single arm over his elevated waist.

As you feel his larger hand come over to cover your own, his thumb caressing at your knuckles in a silent reassurance that he was okay, you couldn’t help but wonder what you would uncover about Shalnark on this trip. Likely a side you’ve never seen before.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

“Are you sure Chloe is going to be okay being left alone in the hotel room?” You ask Shalnark for the fifteenth time since you've left the hotel. Your eyes looking around at the many neon signs that lit up the night sky as you two walked through the bustling streets of York New.

“Positive. … Ah! Here it is,” Shalnark calls out, causing you to turn to look at the place he had taken you.

“The York New Auction Hall?” You mutter out confused,

looking at the elegant building in front of you. Why had Shalnark taken you here of all places? You understood he was a thief and all but…

“Shal.” You whispered to the male next to you as he was typing something into his phone. “You do realize I’m not going to steal anything on this trip, right?”

Shalnark looks up from his phone to give you an amused look; slightly chuckling to himself before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the building with him. All the while getting confused looks by the guest inside as you enter; all of whom wore formal outfits that looked like they cost more than your entire fortune.

“Shal—“ You are stopped short of completing what you are saying as, all of a sudden, two ladys hook their arms around yours and drag you off somewhere. “Woah! Hey!”

You look at Shalnark for help but he only gives you a grin before following two other gentlemen nearby.

After a couple of minutes of being dragged, you are finally placed into a room, stumbling slightly over your feet as you enter. As you look around the room, you find it very hard to see from how dark it is. However, before you can even straighten yourself out and take a closer look, you feel a pair of hands grab at your shirt and yank it over your head.

“H-hey I—“ You are cut off yet again as you feel another pair of hands unzip your pants. After a lot more yelps of surprise from your end and touching from the strangers, you are suddenly let go and pushed out of the room. “H-hey wait I don’t have any clothes… on…”

You don’t finish your sentence as you look agape at the reflection in front of you. Hesitantly, you turn yourself around and do a twirl, slowly taking in yourself. Dressed in a sparkling velvet dress with your makeup lightly done; You could hardly recognize yourself.

“Oh wow.”

And, it seemed as though you weren’t the only one impressed by your own beauty.

Quickly turning yourself at the sudden voice, you see Shalnark standing there; dressed in a classic black suit. With his hair lightly gelled back—except for a couple of blonde strands that couldn’t seem to stay put—you could get a clear look at the red blush that covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“U-uh.. umm..” Shalnark stumbles over his words for a couple of minutes as he stares at you before suddenly getting a hold of himself and clearing his throat, “H-here.”

Swiftly, Shalnark pulls out a bouquet of red roses behind his back and extends them out to you. As you take the flowers from his hold, your fingers ever so slightly graze his, causing his blush to only worsen.

“Shal—“ “(Y/n)—“

You both paused for a second, staring at each other owlishly before trying again.

“You first—“ “You first—“

This time you can’t hold back the giggle that escapes from your lips, “You first, Shal.”

Shalnark quickly nods his head at your words, ever so slightly fidgeting with his tie as he suddenly feels as if it was strangling him. With blood rushing to his ears and a nervousness he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid, Shalnark takes a shaky deep breath.

“You don’t have to answer me right now. I don’t actually expect you to. I J-just…” Shalnark lets out a sigh, frustrated with how nervous he suddenly was. “Just… let me have you for tonight.”

“Only for tonight?” You questioned out loud, bashfully playing with the petals of one of the roses as you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Well, I’ve never felt this way about anyone else so I wanna do it right.” Shalnark rubs the back of his neck as he looks away, “... Not too fast, no pressure…”

Lightly, you stuff your face into the flowers to hold back the grin that has etched its way onto your face as Shalnark encases his hand in yours. Even though you have held his hand many times before, this time feels different.

“...just going with what happens.”

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven , @yumezai, @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation, @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12, @aly-kurta, @bbunnycore , @feifood, @akobere7u7, @aleksa784

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader #shalnark ryuseih #a helping hand

[mrvdocks]

Redamancy

The act of loving the one who loves you; a love returned in full.

Steve Harrington. Residential popular boy until high school came and went. Now, he was actively clawing to stay relevant or at least, a ladies man.

Steve Harrington. Childhood crush since the sandbox incident in first grade. And perhaps you could throw unrequited love interest into the mix.

Maybe you should’ve read the signs that he wasn’t interested when you saw him and Robin at the mall. Or when he stopped hanging out with you after joining his “cool” gang. Or when he would try to not stare so much at you in algebra or across the room during lunch. You weren't sure about his feelings anymore. He always hid everything.

You didn’t mean to pine for him for so long. You knew you shouldn't have. But that chance encounter after Nancy broke up with him made you think you had some semblance of a chance. You didn’t want to be the rebound, but how your heart swelled when your eyes met his, your lips upturned in an easy smile. The party seemed to slow in front of you, bodies becoming blurry and your eyes only focusing on his figure coming to you.

If this was anything like the movies you’d seen and dreamed of, you hoped it would end with him confessing his mutual feelings for you and not him taking your face in his hands and kissing you sloppily. You could practically taste the spiked punch on his lips.

You pushed him off, staring at him in shock. He inches closer, his sweaty hands trying to bring you back to kiss you again but you refuse. “Steve?” You whisper to him.

He just stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth, you don't recognize the look. But something about it feels so innocent, so soft. It feels like he’s searching for something deep within you. You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I’m not Nancy.”

He reeks of punch and hairspray. “I know that.” He manages out.

His hands come back, one hand resting at the nape of your neck, his fingers entangled in your hair. The other caresses your cheek. The feeling made you feel so warm, so loved. You were delighted in his gentle yet sloppy touch, internally screaming for more of the connection.

But you weren’t sure about him anymore, about the things he wanted. It seemed to be a shitty year for him.

Certainly, someone who made it their mission to get over you with cliques and drama didn’t deserve you.

But you were anything if not human in your possibly unrequited feelings.

“Steve.” You say again. You break out of the trance to step back. The moment was accompanied by sounds of loud teens and music, you shook your head again and darted for the door.

Steve mumbles out your name but it gets lost in the sea of screams and synths. You’re out the door by the time he searches for you in the crowd.

He can’t stop thinking about you at work. He stares at the chocolate chip flavor ice cream and thinks of how you dropped yours in the sandbox in the first grade. How he gave you his without a second thought. Robin thinks there’s something wrong with him. And it wasn’t just the pathetic attempts at trying to chat up customers. She said he looked - what’s that word again? Forlorn.

This whole time he thought he wanted Nancy back, but he couldn’t get you out of his head. He missed your laugh, the snorts that would follow. The way you smelled followed him and the way you looked at him that night at the party, the tears in your eyes, haunted him.

He regretted so much of his later high school experience. He regretted being such an asshole. What good did it bring if you were locked out of his life?

He sees you pass by on your way to work at the diner in the mall. He tries to bury his feelings by asking out the random girls he serves but every time he’s turned down it comes back full force.

“Whatever happened to that girl you liked?” Dustin asks from behind the binoculars.

“Which one?” Steve asks. There must’ve been so many Dustin was referring to.

“That one that you always talk about, likes the same "nerd stuff" I do? Pretty? Cool?”

“That’s not my type.” Steve dodges the question, but nonetheless has a clear image of you in his head.

“Oh yeah? What is your type again? Not cool?” Dustin deadpans.

Steve huffs. “Alright, time’s up, give me the binoculars.”

Dustin passes them, eager to get on with his Russian mission. Steve scans the area, he’s about to give up on this whole mission when he lands on the sign of the diner you work at. He can’t help but focus on you at the register, deep in conversation with another co-worker and bursting into laughter. A captivated smirk came onto his face.

“You should probably go talk to her. She’s definitely a step up from the girls from the shop - actually from all those girls you've been trying to ask out.” Dustin says.

Steve looks up from the binoculars. “What’re you talking about?”

Dustin laughs. “You’re so obvious. Whatever happened to not letting girls know that you care?”

Steve shrugs. Stupid advice anyways.

Steve tries to not think of you when everything goes downhill in a span of a few hours. If he died without having said anything to you, even so much as an apology, he thinks the guilt would’ve killed him instead.

“Have you.....ever been in love?” Robin’s raspy voice asks him.

They’re just coming down from their highs and sprawled out on the floors of the bathroom. The near-death experience had scared him shitless enough to rethink a lot of things.

“Yup. Nancy Wheeler. First semester, senior year.”

“Bullshit. She’s such a priss.”

He hums. “Turns out, not really.”

“Are you still in love with Nancy?”

“No.” He says, a little too quick.

Robin’s interest is piqued.  “Why not?”

“I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.” He fiddles with the frayed ends of his uniform.

“There’s this girl, the one I like. It’s somebody that I.....kind of ignored in high school. I didn’t mean to but I just know Tommy H would’ve made fun of me. Or I wouldn’t have been prom king. It’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyway but when I think about it, this girl knows me. Inside and out. She always has. I should’ve been hanging out with her the whole time.”

He breathes out, hands shaking as he confesses what he’s bottled up for so long.

“First of all, she’s hilarious. She would have me in stitches all the time,” he chuckles. “She’s such a nerd, she likes Star Wars and math and books and things I made fun of. And she’s so smart. Probably much smarter than me. What do you think?”

“Of?”

“The girl.”

“She sounds awesome.”

“Yeah,” he nods solemnly. “And what about the guy?”

“I think there is something seriously wrong with him. To have something real right in front of him and leave it for something so fake.”

“Yeah, I’m an idiot.” He whispers.

“Have you told her? How you feel?”

Steve shakes his head. “I feel like all the bad I’ve done to her...I just deserve the rejection at this point.”

“You never know until you try. Maybe she feels the same.”

“Yeah maybe.” He concludes.

He didn’t think he’d survive the Russians but he does. With one evil defeated, he thinks the worst is over. And it would’ve been until Billy showed up.

The kids are ready for him, shaky, but on guard. Steve can see Billy’s figure illuminated under the neon mall lights and his heart drops when he sees what he’s carrying.

You’re in Billy’s arms, unconscious and beat up but hopefully still alive. Still dressed in your diner uniform, Billy had snatched you up close to after hours and was planning on putting you to good use. He’d laid you down close by but still far from everyone’s reach.

Everyone’s eyes widened when they realized who he had. They hadn’t planned for this. Heather had gone long ago and if Billy’s plan was for you to become the next Heather, then you were in very dangerous territory.

“That can’t be-” Dustin asks but he’s interrupted by Steve.

“That’s it.” He grits. His knuckles are white and he feels the adrenaline rush through him. Nancy glances at him. The sheer determination is what she saw but the fear is what drove him. She signaled El.

The kids alter their plan to distract Billy so Steve has a shot at pulling you away from the danger. If the Mind Flayer gets anywhere near you, you’re as good as dead.

El gets the Mind Flayer going, letting it try its luck at her. She’s got Billy right where she needs him when she gives Steve the signal.

Steve’s never run so fast in his life. He only gets angrier at the eldritch terror as he comes closer to your body, bloody knicks marking your cherubic face, and a bleeding side wound. You clearly put up a fight.

“No, no, no, no.” He utters in shock, lifting your upper body and supporting your neck with his left arm. His hand grabs at your cheeks, shaking you to gain some response.

“Hey! Come on, wake up! Please.” He cries. When he gets no response he brings you up to his chest, hugging you as tight as he can.

The smell he remembers is there but coated in dirt and slime and blood. He’s horrified. He can’t close his eyes for fear that you’ll pass.

“Not you. Please not you. Come on, wake up.” He rocks you back and forth.  “You can’t leave me too. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. About everything. I'll do anything please, wake up."

He feels you stir under him just then, wincing in pain and moving as slowly as your body would let you.

“Steve?” You mumble his name incoherently.

It’s a miracle he hears it among the commotion in the background. You feel the stinging pain in your side and your hand shoots up to touch it.

“Hey, hey, no. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes your hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly.

He’s thankful, so thankful that whatever being there was beyond the Mind Flayer let you come back to him.

“Am I going to die here?" You cry, unable to move without feeling white-hot pain throughout your body.

“No, okay? Just stay with me."

“Steve.” You groan. Your eyes feel so heavy, but he urges you to stay awake. It just feels impossible.

“No hey, we don’t have to talk right now. Okay? Stay with me, please. When this is all over I’ll take you on a hundred dates. You can yell at me, hit me, do whatever you want but stay with me.” He pleads.

A roar startles you both, and upon seeing the Mind Flayer charge to reap its pound of flesh, Steve accepts his fate. He shields you and buries your face in his neck, bracing himself.

The impact never comes. Instead, he hears screams and wills himself to open his eyes. Billy stands just inches away, tendrils impaling him as El lays on the floor in front of you both.

Steve’s shaking worse than before, he’s in shock. He almost thinks El’s dead but she’s a sobbing mess. Everything stops and the Mind Flayer falls dead.

He can hear Max’s cries for Billy. The silence that follows is deafening. Steve immediately looks down at you, making sure you’re still alive. When you wince in pain, he takes some comfort in it.

He kisses your forehead and utters profuse apologies and thanks. With whatever strength you can muster, you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

You sit in the booth, waiting for Steve to come back with the ice cream. You're humming along to the music coming from the loudspeaker in the shop absentmindedly. Today was part of many recoveries.

Steve smiles warmly when he returns, passing you it and watching as you take an eager bite. Chocolate chip, without fail.

“Final verdict?” He clapped his hands together in anticipation.

“It's gonna be a hard pass from me. Scoops did it better.” You giggle, breaking your faux serious face.

“Damn.” He smirked.

You both broke into a fit of laughter, his shoulders bouncing with glee.

Your hand came across the table to hold his, fingers interlocking. You finally realized what that look at the party meant. That gaze he held. He was in love. Completely and utterly at its mercy.  

It’s been three months since the battle at Starcourt Mall. Your side is somewhat healed but the scar will always be there to remind you of the ordeal. Steve’s nightmares about losing you to the Mind Flayer are starting to fade. You managed to get an internship outside of Hawkins doing what you loved and Steve was going with Robin the next day to see if the video store was hiring.

Steve kept his promise. The first date you two had was out of the hospital. It was scary at first, acknowledging bottled up feelings and things from the past that neither of you wanted to own up to before. But when he finally confessed and made it up to you in a million ways, you caved. Since then, dates have become sweeter and funnier, they surpassed the good old days.

You’d like to think things have changed for the better now. Hell, you even managed to convince Steve to start looking at colleges. You wanted to get out of Hawkins as soon as you’d saved up enough and graduated. But for now, you were taking it one day at a time.

You think you’ve earned your soft epilogue, here with him. At least the peace you read about in books. The kind where you can finally breathe. The calm after the storm.

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #felt so nice to write for my chaotic boy again

[akarinittalovers]

•Nanaba Part I: Confessions

It was quite a boring day in the Survey Corps, there is nothing to do. No, saying that there is nothing to do is not correct, there are still many tasks to finish especially this early in the day. This was just all you do after being promoted as a squad commander. There was just a lot and a lot of paperwork especially in between expeditions like right now.

You let out a sigh as you finish another stack of paper for today. But still, your work here is far from over. You peek at other stacks of paper on your desk waiting to be done. You will be here for a while.

You place your head on the desk taking a short break. Honestly, you wanted to cry and just run away from all this, you would prefer to fight a titan than doing this. Suddenly you straighten up your back and slap both of your cheeks.

'No, we are fighting Titan so that we could live peacefully like this.' you thought to yourself.

With Your spirit renewed and you prepare to fulfill your duty to completion. But as you grabbed on the next paper to fill there are knocking on the door of your office. You are honestly a little pissed off by it but then again it might be something important or at least something that elevated your boredom and hopefully not an additional task.

You calmed and tidy yourself up before permitting whoever was outside of the door by saying "please come in."

After you say that the handle on the door moved downward and it's slowly open revealing a figure of the person who knocked. A short hair blonde woman, not very tall and she has a somewhat petite body.

"Excuse me." That person said before entering and closing the door behind her back.

You silently thank the heavens. The person who just enters your office is someone you actually want to see.

"Oh, Turn out its Nanaba." You said

"Is it a bad time, sir?."

You shook your head gently before the answer her. "Not really, I just finished part of my work though I still got some left."

"I see, hope I am not bothering you too much, sir." She said as she walks towards your desk. You are almost mesmerized by how gracefully she walked - Well, we are being honest here she just walked like a normal person but for you, she was as graceful as a butterfly. -

"Not at all, I'm glad you can come here, and could you stop calling me sir, please. Call me by my name."

"Eh?... Why not it sounds nice on you." She said as she moved aside your stack of paper and then she sits on your desk. "You deserve it, after all, Squad leader." She said teasingly.

You sighed tiredly as she let out a small laugh.

"I think you're the one who deserves to be promoted. Your skills are far better than mine after all." You said to her.

"Well, that is true. I am skilled and talented moreover I am cooler than you." She said in a teasing manner. But then her tone changes into something more serious. "Still, I think you will be a better leader than me. You are smart, courageous, and reliable. You've saved my life many times before, thank you for that." Nanaba said to you with a sweet and gentle smile.

As both of your eyes meet each other gaze your heart skipped a beat and you couldn't help but get flustered to her. It seems that Nanaba also experienced the same thing as you are since you could see a blush forming on her cheeks. To everyone surprised she was the first to avert her gaze.

That doesn't mean that your situation was any better though. Your heartbeat is very chaotic and it perfectly reflects your emotions right now. You cough at your fist as a way to calming yourself down.

"Well, we are comrades after all, and besides you also save mine countless, times before," you said. "Then tell me why are you came here?."

"Why?... No reason I just wanted to see you that all. You have been working all day and don't even come out of this room at all."

"All day?." You asked her.

"Yeah, it's already 8 pm. You haven't come out all day."

"What!? 8 pm?." You shouted at her. You then practically jump out of your work chair and run towards the window and open its thicks blind. The scenery you see outside of your window is shocking. Beautiful sunlight that illuminates the world is long gone and the recruit who is training in the field is nowhere to be seen. "Just how long have I been working here anyway?."

Seeing your shocked face Nanaba let out a laughed.

"Poor thing too focused on doing the task to forget the time. You shouldn't do that you know. Please take care of your health." She said while gently bonked your head. "Just take a rest, I'll make you some tea."

"Yeah, you are right thank you."

You return to your seat and resting your back on it. Your eyes followed Nanaba, seeing her made a hot tea for you. Just by seeing her like this was honestly enough to restore your energy.

Not long after that, she finished

making you tea and gave it to you.

"Here it is." She gave the teacup to you.

"Thanks." You take a teacup from her hand.

You relaxed your whole body as you began to take a sip from the teacup. The fragrant taste of the expensive tea began to fill your mouth. It was quite expensive tea that only rich merchants could buy. You only got your hand on this because you got a particularly generous discount and you got some money saved. Honestly, You rather saved this tea for special occasions but again since Nanaba was the one who made the tea its should be count as a special occasion right?.

You close your eyes trying to savor as much tea flavor as possible. Your mouth then let out an "Ahhh," as the tea wash down your throat filling it with a warm delight. Still, despite you being drowned out by pleasure, you couldn't help but notice a pair of eyes surveying your every movement.

You decide to see what's up with that and you saw it. Nanaba sitting at your desk, one of her hands holding her head in her hand. Her face is filled with a gentle yet beaming smile and Her gaze is fixated on you.

"Wha-." Before you could finish your word Nanaba hands already reached both sides of your cheeks, holding them quite tightly.

"You know, I lied to you," Nanaba said.

You who were still left speechless by her previous action started to wonder what does she meant by 'lied to you'. Just as your mind wonders about what going on, Nanaba pulls your face closer to her and places her lips into yours.

At that moment your wondering mind went blank and your body froze unable to move. All of your brainpower to focus on the tender feeling of her lips on yours. The sweet and gentle sensation flooded your senses.

The kiss lasted for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Though you would love it to last forever there are important that needed to be addressed first.

After Nanaba pulled away from your face and get her hands off your face, you placed your hands on her shoulders. The expression on your face was hideous, it was a combination of scared, disbelief, and panic. But as hideous as it was your expression right now perfectly mirrors your heart.

"Wh- Wh- What are you doing Nanaba?."

"I got tired," Nanaba said.

"Tired?." You tilt your head slightly in confusion.

"Well, the thing is I knew that you had a crush on me, and I also kind of liked you. So I decided to if you confessed to me I would accept it. But I am stupid thinking that way. We are members of the survey corps we don't know when we are gonna die. I couldn't just sit around waiting for you to come to me."

Nanaba breaks eye contact with you. You could notice a blush start to forming on her cheeks. The usual confident Nanaba now is nowhere to be seen and what replaces her was the vulnerable Nanaba. Honestly, you feel honored to have her showing that side of herself to you.

After taking a few deep breaths she looks you deep in your eyes, her face filled with conviction that she gonna do it right here, right now but still, it was quite evident that holding back her blush a lot.

"So that why I am betting everything on this," she said. while she was not screaming her tone was definitely louder than she usually was.  "I will live for you so please live on for me. I love you Y/N."

After hearing that you pulled Nanaba closer to you into a tight embrace. In response to your hug, Nanaba also wrapped her hand around your body and rested her head on your shoulder. Surprisingly but expectedly your shoulder where she places her head feels damp. She just let out all of the feelings to you and knowing her personality it was possibly her first time doing it, so it makes sense if she was overwhelmed by it.

"As expected your body is warm." She whispered to you. You also could feel her hands move around your back and petting your head.

"How did you know that I like you?." You asked her.

"I don't know, I lied. I just hope that you do like me. I- I am sorry if I am assuming your feelings, I am okay if- if you don't like me back but just don't hate me." She began to hold you even more tightly while holding back her tear.

You went and gently stroke her short blonde hair as a way to comfort her. "I never gonna hate you Nanaba. You were right I have had a crush on you ever since the first time we meet I want nothing more but to spend the rest of my life with you, to protect you. That is why I am joining the Survey Corps in the first place to be with you."

"So that why you join the Survey Corps, it is because of me." Nanaba looks you in the eyes once more. "Y/N, You dummy I don't need your protection." She bonked your head again "Well since you joined the Survey Corps because of me it's become my responsibility to protect you. Nanaba said teasingly and with a big smile.

"I look forward to being protected by you, Nanaba. I knew you are strong but still, I want to protect you as well."

"Let's promise we look for each other back. Like I said we live for each other." She said smiling.

"That a promise."

Both of you giggle at each other and then that giggle grew into a laugh but not long after that both of you went silent with eyes inspecting each other bodies. She is just perfect in your eyes from her short blonde hair, her majestic blue eyes, and her whole body and You are also as equally perfect in her eyes.

Both of your heads get closer once more. Nanaba could smell the sweet fragrant of the tea you had been drinking as she feels your breath and you also sense a fruity sense from her as her shadow began to cover your eyes. A what felt like an eternity later both of your mouths finally meet again as you went on a passionate kiss with your lover.

Your knees got weaker as you experience something that you always dream of but never actually believe you could do it. You hold on to her for balance while keeping both of your eyes closed so you could focus on one thing, your mouth.

Both of you pulled away from each other faces but both of your arms still squeezing one another bodies tightly. Both of you giggle at each other as your forehead touch against her's. The warm feeling of her breath and her very existence there bring you a sense of euphoria.

"Your mouth still has a sweet tea taste on it," Nanaba said as she released her hold over you and turn away walking towards the exit.

Feeling quite disappointed and confused you grabbed her hand holding her in place before asking. "Nanaba where are you going?."

She then turns her head towards you and answered. "Well, I would love to stay and spend a night here but we can't do it right now."

"Why is that." You asked her.

"Take a guess."

You do as she said and after a short deliberation later you came to a conclusion. Knowing her you are about 90% sure you came to the right conclusion.

"You came here to inform me that Erwin has summoned me to join the meeting at his office along with every high-ranking officer of the Survey Corps but instead of doing that you got carried away teasing me and somehow ended up confessing your love to me. Is that correct, Nanaba-san?." You said with a tired expression on your face.

"Oh wow, your guess is spot on. That amazing Y/N, I always knew you are smart but damn."

You let go of Nanaba hand and walked to your desk and fondle around the papers on it scanning it before choosing to be placed on the paper folder that you'll bring to Erwin.

"Guessing you was easy enough. Well, you go there first, I'll meet you there. I need to prepare the paperwork for the meeting first."

"I see, then see you there."

Nanaba waves her hand at you first before she began to walk away towards the door of your office. She then opens the door and steps outside of it but before she closed the door, she called out your name.

"Y/N..." You look at her. Her head peeks inside a half-closed door to your office, her hand is still on the handle. "I'll look forward to our next hand-to-hand combat training session." She said before closing the door with a wink.

Also available on Wattpad

#Nanaba #nanaba x reader #Nanaba x Reader #Attack on Titan #aot #aot x y/n #fanfiction #aot fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #snk x you #snk x y/n

[starstruckcomet]

Harry Potter and the Look Into the Future

Summary:  Harry Potter and Y/N unexpectedly learn more about their futures than they bargained for when Umbridge gets her sights set on getting the duo in trouble. Reader is a Hufflepuff girl. Just a quick, cute story (Bonus: includes Umbridge get slammed on by McGonagall). Not set in any specific canonical timeline and canon has been altered quite a bit (Spoiler: Cedric does not die, Cedric is not Hufflepuff Seeker, etc)

"Right now, I don't know if I wanna kiss you or kill you" Y/N hugged the wall behind her, feeling the cold stone against her back through her robes.

"Was that a confession?" Harry asked, looking at Y/N instead of down the next corridor, where he had been training his eyes before, and where Y/N was looking now.

"You wish" A faint smile graced Y/N's features, eyes still trained on the empty corridor lined with torches ahead of them.

Harry smiled as well, feeling his heart jump at her accusation. "Why would you kill me? I'm the one who warned you"

"Because if I hadn't known about this, I wouldn't be here standing with you. I'd still be in Charms learning how to use Raparifors... and I might've even been able to help Madame Pomfrey with some patients, she's been looking tired lately, what with Quidditch injuries and Hagrid showing us the Skrewts"

"Hey!"

"No, I'm not saying it's wrong of Hagrid to teach us about them. I think the Skrewts are quite interesting! And you know I love the way Hagrid teaches. But you can't deny they're causing injuries, right? The infirmaries are full every day, Madame Pomfrey looked a little overworked when I went to go check if my hand had healed fully. I feel bad, I think she deserves a break"

Harry scoffed. "Hufflepuffs."

"You say that like it's a bad thing" said Y/N, sounding offended, but smiling. She looked back to face Harry now.

"Not at all. I feel pretty bad for her too" Harry returned her smile. "But would you really rather be ignorant to this and let it just happen to you? Before you can do anything about it?"

"...no." Y/N admitted, turning back to look around the corner.

"So you won't kill me then?"

"Not today, Potter" A sly smile formed on her face.

"Brilliant. So a kiss then?" Harry raised his brows, half-expectantly

"What?" Y/N looked to face him again, taken aback.

"You said you didn't know whether to kiss me or kill me, didn't you? And you said you're not going to kill me..." Harry explained.

"Not yet, at least" interjected Y/N, bemused.

"So the other option was to kiss me." Harry raised his brow, as though challenging Y/N.

Y/N felt her face heat up despite herself. "Can we focus?" was the only thing she said before turning back to the corridor. She heard Harry chuckle lightly, obviously amused, which did not help with her rapidly heating cheeks.

"I AM focusing" Harry said defiantly.

"Right" murmured Y/N. Just then, she spotted Umbridge scuttling down the hallway. Y/N swung back, using the wall to hide herself.

"Is she ther-" Harry began, but was unable to finish his sentence because Y/N had slapped her hand against his mouth. She did not even spare him a look before slowly leaning to look down the corridor again. Harry could hear Umbridge's shrill, artificially sweet voice. She was talking to Professor McGonagall.

"A word, Minerva?" her voice said, and Harry and Y/N could just imagine the annoying smile that they (and many of the other students-and teachers) wanted to slap off her face.

"I do not tolerate disruptions of my class. Speak with me later, Dolores, if you'll please" McGonagall said coldly, the way she always talked to Umbridge.

Y/N and Harry had to muffle their laughter.

"I have to speak to you about a student." Umbridge's voice wavered for a fraction of a second. She was obviously intimidated, but as always, did not want to admit it, wanting to keep up her unbothered façade.

McGonagall audibly sighed, gave some instructions to her 4th year class (they were all listening intently as well), then walked out of her classroom alongside Umbridge, out into the corridor.

"And which student do you wish to speak about?" Y/N could hear McGonagall more clearly now, as the Professor shut the classroom door behind herself.

"About Miss Y/N Y/L/N"

"Now I'm not sure if you were aware, Dolores, but I am Head of Gryffindor house. And I believe it should be quite obvious enough from Miss Y/L/N's canary yellow robes, that she has been sorted into Hufflepuff. Therefore, you should be speaking with Professor Sprout about any issues you have with her. Professor Sprout's greenhouse is just outside, in the lawns, if you were not up to date with the Hogwarts layout" McGonagall heaved, not showing any sense of fear of the High Inquisitor's wrath.

Both Harry and Y/N snuck a look into the corridor, and they could see Umbridge's face go purple, the way it always did when she was quite angry with something. When she talked again however, her voice was still utterly dripping with fake joy.

"I know very well about all those things, thank you Minerva. However I believe it is in your best interest to listen to what I have to say, as it involves a student that has been sorted into Gryffindor house as well"

Harry and Y/N shared a look. There was a silence as McGonagall furrowed her brows inquisitively.

"Harry Potter IS in Gryffindor house, yes?" Umbridge asked, pretending as though she were clueless.

"Obviously" McGonagall sighed. "And what has he done?"

"According to Educational Decree Thirty-Five" and there was ruffle of parchment as Umbridge took out the list of Educational Decrees she always kept with her, so as to remind people (or shove down people's throats, rather) of the new school rules set by the Ministry. "All male students should stay separate from female students." Umbridge looked up and Y/N thought that McGonagall was going to roll her eyes through the back of her head. "You've seen this Decree, I assume?"

"How could I have not?" McGonagall sighed, and she gestured towards the corridor, where at least 5 posters of the Decree were plastered, despite the corridor being one of the smallest in the castle.

"Then you see how Mr. Potter and Miss Y/L/N have violated school rules?"

"No, I do not. My classroom has male and female students, and they are sitting and working together." McGonagall moved her arm to the closed door of her classroom. "Because if you have truly read the Decree, it continues on to say that interactions which do not involve touching or other intimate acts are, in fact, permitted. And that's to not even mention that you have shown me no proof of these two students being in close proximity together in an inappropriate way. So, unless you have got proof of the two students doing anything intimate with one another-which if you do, I stoutly question your role as a teacher in this school-I cannot help you" McGonagall flourished.

Y/N and Harry heard Umbridge's breathing hasten. She was now panting, as though a dog.

"I have proof, however. As for my role in this school, I am simply upholding the rules that the Ministry has set"

"You have proof?" McGonagall questioned, backing away from the door of her classroom, which she was about to open. "Right then. What is it?"

There was another ruffle of parchment as Umbridge took something out of her pocket again.

"Love letters." stated Umbridge proudly as she handed the papers to McGonagall.

McGonagall frowned as she scanned them. "You have letters that the students sent privately to one another? I'll have you know that is quite illegal, even outside of the world of magic. And surely a Ministry witch such as yourself would be aware of this fact?"

Y/N and Harry looked at one another. This was what Harry had warned Y/N about. Y/N felt her face heat up, thinking of her teachers reading the mail she and Harry had exchanged. She wondered how Umbridge had managed to get her hands on them.

"All in the name of the Ministry" Umbridge sighed happily. "And Hogwarts, of course" she added, as though an afterthought.

"And you call these love letters, do you? Read them, Dolores. Do you see romance when you look at these?"

"I do, indeed. Read between the lines, Minerva. They are evidently..." She took a sharp intake of breath, racking her brain, "What do the kids call it...flirting! Yes. Flirting, they are"

"Dolores, theft of student mail is a violation of privacy and these accusations of...flirting" McGonagall said, dumfounded by Umbridge. "are unbased. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach. I'd advise you to get back to yours as well" and McGonagall turned to try to enter her class again.

"I have more proof, however!" Umbridge said, sounding desperate now.

McGonagall begrudgingly turned back to face Umbridge, watching as she took a stack of something out of her pockets. Y/N wondered just how big Umbridge's pockets were and made a mental note to remember to ask her where she bought her clothes. Umbridge handed McGonagall the stack of what looked to be pictures. As McGonagall took them in her hands, she looked at them, bewildered.

"What are these?" she demanded.

"Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Potter being quite intimate with one another. Holding hands, hugging, even...sharing a kiss" Umbridge explained as McGonagall turned to the last photo in the stack.

Harry and Y/N's cheeks heated up as they looked at one another, perplexed. A kiss? But they had never shared a kiss. Or even a hug since the 35th Decree had been put into place. How could Umbridge have gotten those pictures, when the scenes depicted in them hadn't even happened in the first place?

Professor McGonagall seemed to have the same question, but without the context of knowing that they were obviously fake and had never happened . "How did you get these?" she asked, sounding enraged.

"The High Inquisitor-that is to say, I- has eyes all over the school. Always watching, of course. How else am I supposed to make sure that students are following rules?"

McGonagall was so livid, she was unable to even form a sentence. "Violation of privacy! These are teenage children! Just because you've never felt the affection of a man!"

Harry and Y/N had to muffle laughter once again.

Umbridge did not take that last comment well, her smile disappearing off her face. "I'll have you know-"

But Umbridge was cut off by a McGonagall that was getting angrier by the second. In her anger, she had dropped the pictures, which were now scattered about the corridor floor.

Y/N dared to sneak a glance at one, and she felt her cheeks immediately turn red. In the picture that had drifted closest to the duo hiding behind the corner, Harry was depicted hovering himself over Y/N, leaning down to kiss her. Both their cheeks were flamingo pink and Harry's brows were furrowed. For some reason, they seemed to be lying in the grass.

McGonagall continued shouting. "How DARE you sneak into the student's private lives, taking scandalous pictures of moments that are meant to be for their eyes only! Beyond disrespectful!"

Some of McGonagall's 4th years had gathered to watch the scene out of the small rectangular window in the door. They shoved one another, trying to get a better look.

Umbridge had begun gathering the pictures that were strewn about the floor. Harry and Y/N caught sight of a few more of them. Many depicted them sharing hugs, or comfortably lying together on the couch in front of the fire in the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor common rooms. Although, something that surprised Y/N and Harry more than the fact that Umbridge had these pictures in her possession, or that she was sharing private moments of theirs with McGonagall, was the fact that none of the pictures seemed to be memories...they were all things that hadn't happened. Ever.

"We will have to talk to Dumbledore straight away!' McGonagall was still shouting, shocking Y/N and Harry. They knew she would be angry, but they had never heard Professor McGonagall shout before.

McGonagall began to march down the opposite end of the corridor, Umbridge following suit. Harry and Y/N expected Umbridge to have been angry or scared, but instead she looked pleased with herself.

"We'd better get back to class. I expect they're going to call us into Dumbledore's office for questioning" Y/N said, trying to fight off the blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Ah, right" Harry quickly averted his eyes from Y/N, as though he had been staring at her the entire time.

So they made their way back to Charms, where Professor Flitwick didn't even bother to ask them why they'd taken so long in getting books from their common rooms (the excuse the two had given to be able to leave Charms in the middle of the lesson)

Just as Harry and Y/N took their seats again, with inquiring looks from their classmates, a 7th year that they had seen a few times in the corridors came marching in. "Harry Potter and Y/N Y/L/N have been called into Dumbledore's office" he said.

"Very well" Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky voice. He turned to look at Harry and Y/N. "You may go. Remember to practice Raparifors as homework!"

The duo nodded, then followed the 7th year to the gargoyle statue on the 2nd floor.

"Treacle Tart" the 7th year said, and the gargoyle began to spin upwards, unveiling a staircase as it did. "Good luck, McGonagall looks quite mad." The 7th year turned to look at Harry and Y/N.

Harry and Y/N only nodded at the boy as he stalked away, grinning to himself. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if he'd seen the photographs as well.

They made their way up the stairs, pausing to knock on the wooden door that separated the staircase from Dumbledore's office. They heard Dumbledore's voice say "Get that for me, would you, Dolores?" and a second later, the door was opened by Umbridge, who smiled sweetly, flashing her yellowing teeth at them.

They scuttled in, the both of them, and Umbridge closed the door behind them, as though trapping prey. "And as I was saying, as High Inquisitor, it is my job to uphold the rules, which these students have evidently broken" Umbridge stated this as though she'd already been talking before Harry and Y/N came in, not taking into account the fact that if the duo of students hadn't been snooping, they would've had no idea what she was on about.

"I don't think it is anybody's job to be nosing around in the private love lives of students." McGonagall sniffed.

Dumbledore looked calm as he switched his glance between the two quarrelling teachers.

"Come. Sit" he gestured at the two seats in front of his desk. He tapped a Newton's Cradle set on the desk in front of him, and the pendulums began to swing, bumping into one another. It was so mesmerizing to look at that Y/N thought it had to be enchanted with magic; she was so encapsulated with it that she had almost forgotten why they were there.

"Y/N, Harry, you two must be confused as to why you're here" Dumbledore folded his hands together and rested them on his desk as he took a seat in front of them.

"I'll explain, although you should already be aware" Umbridge butted in. "I have caught you two violating school rules"

"What?" Y/N let out a breath.

"Which one?" Harry asked, lying through his teeth.

"I think you know very well which one" Umbridge grinned, holding up the pictures for the students to see. Y/N felt the blush creep up on her again, and when she looked at Harry, his normally pale cheeks were also tinged.

"Absolutely outrageous!" McGonagall huffed again, quickly averting her eyes away from the photographs. "Dumbledore, you must see what's wrong with this?" she rounded on the Headmaster.

"I do, in fact see the problem" Dumbledore hummed sedately.

McGonagall seemed to sigh with relief at this.

"And what issue may that be? It is perfectly within my right to inspect students and other residents of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is in my job description, you see-"

"That is not the issue I am conferring to, Dolores" Dumbledore interrupted, voice stable. Y/N saw from the corner of her eye an enraged and confused McGonagall. Y/N felt her love for Professor McGonagall grow. She knew that McGonagall was one of the teachers that was always by her side, but she felt especially teary at how angry the Transfigurations Professor was getting on her behalf today.

"Surely, Professor you-" McGonagall began but Dumbledore interrupted again.

"The issue here, is that this proof is invalid" stated Dumbledore.

"As you can see, Professor, these pictures prove my point perfectl-"

"I'm afraid these pictures are false, Dolores" Dumbledore said tonelessly.

Umbridge scowled. "Whatever do you mean, Dumbledore?" she asked.

As Dumbledore took out his wand, an expression of realization dawned on McGonagall's face. Y/N, still confused, focused her eyes on Dumbledore in front of her.

"Pictures, please Dolores" and Umbridge handed him the images. "Ostende Vera" He said, flicking his wand as he did a spell that neither Y/N, nor Harry had ever heard of.

Immediately, the pictures morphed to show print on the bottom right-hand corner. Y/N squinted to see the words closer and saw that one of the pictures of them cuddling in front of the fire had "December 23rd, 1997: 9:00PM, Gryffindor Common Room, In front of the fire. Pictured: Harry James Potter, Y/N Y/L/N. " written on it. Y/N frowned with confusion.

"As you can see, Dolores, these are Respice In Futurum. Otherwise known as "Future Looks" Dumbledore stated.

Umbridge still looked confused, while McGonagall's expression had changed into a smile.

"The meaning of this?" Umbridge questioned, raising a brow. Y/N could see that she was piecing together the meaning but did not want to admit it.

"Meaning these images have not happened." McGonagall explained, folding her arms.

"Yet." added Dumbledore and Y/N could swear he winked at Harry and Y/N. They shared a look, as if confirming from one another that he really had. They blushed looking at one another, realizing that they were not just imagining things.

"Excuse me?" Umbridge was turning purple again, still unable to admit it.

"It means" pressured McGonagall, smugly, and the professor reminded Y/N of Hermione for a second. "This scene will not take place until 9PM on December 23rd, 2 years from now. It has not happened. I would've assumed that a Ministry official such as yourself would know about such a thing?"

"Well, what matters is the fact that it happened...or is going to happen at all!" Umbridge insisted, defiant still, ignoring the last part of McGonagall's statement. "Whether it is in the future or not!"

"We cannot punish students for breaking rules they haven't broken yet" Dumbledore said with a gentle smile.

"Well why not!?" Umbridge was livid now, any semblance of fake joy drained out of her voice. "We have proof right here that they are about to violate a rule set by the Ministry of Magic!"

"In two years." said McGonagall coldly. "Who knows whether the rule would still exist in two years time! That is a judgment we can only pass in December of 1997"

"Well, as long as I am here, the rule will exist!" Umbridge shouted. Her fake smile was nowhere to be seen.

"Exactly. As long as you're here" McGonagall said "Can you prove that you are still going to be a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in two years time?"

"Well, why wouldn't I be!?" argued Umbridge.

"Who knows? Professor Trelawney might've been able to tell you but unfortunately for you, Sybill does not really wish to see you. Anyhow, there is no definitive proof that these students are breaking any school rules at the time of this photograph. So speaking on terms of the punishment of these children, it is non-viable." McGonagall smiled lightly as she watched Umbridge's face contort with anger.

Umbridge huffed. "Alright then" she brushed out her pink dress as though arguing had made it dirty. "But if I catch either of you doing anything-" she turned to face Harry and Y/N-who had just been sitting quietly as they watched the whole thing enfold-pointing an accusatory finger at them.

"I think it would benefit you best, Dolores, if you focused on the present, rather than on what is going to happen, or what could potentially happen" Dumbledore said wisely, smiling at the livid teacher.

Umbridge huffed again. "Of course" her fake smile returned, but it was tight lipped now. "Good day, then" she bid, then walked out the door. Y/N grinned, just imagining the breakdown she would have in the privacy of her office.

McGonagall also bid her goodbyes. "I have a class to get back to, then. Good afternoon." and she left as well, leaving the students alone with Dumbledore.

They looked to him to see if they had been dismissed. He only smiled at them, as though he were expecting something.

"Professor..." Harry began, and Dumbledore shifted his gaze to the pendulums on his desk, which were still swaying, confirming Y/N's suspicions that they were enchanted. "Was that...really a look into the future?"

"Definitively, yes" Dumbledore said simply.

"So...it is 100% going to happen?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

"Quite right, you are, Miss Y/L/N. Future Looks only show future events that will happen, without a shadow of a doubt."

Y/N and Harry looked down, spotting the image of them sharing a kiss which had the words "November 28th, 1995, 1:49 PM. Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, Hufflepuff vs Gryffindor. Pictured: Harry James Potter, Y/N Y/L/N." imprinted on the bottom. They both blushed deep red and Y/N's heart began to pound painfully in her chest.

"November 28th, 1995? But that's...this year! It's November 16th!" she thought to herself. "And during a Quidditch match? Is that why they were lying in the grass? Why in the middle of a match!?"

As though he could read her mind, Dumbledore spoke up. "As I said to Dolores, do not fret on the future." he smiled gently. "What is meant to be, is meant to be."

The students did not speak, looking at the floor. Fawkes had curled up in Y/N's lap and she decided to focus on the Phoenix instead of the conversation they were having with Dumbledore, however, she was unsuccessful.

"Ah, young love" Dumbledore suddenly heaved, smiling. "Would it be quite horrible of me to say that I find it fun to watch enfold? As Headmaster, I see it blossom quite often" he said. "The purest form of love, it is."

Then he gathered the photos and set them aside. "Quite an invasion of privacy, though, I do agree with Minerva. I apologize on Dolores's behalf for this."

The bell rang for lunch, and Dumbledore abruptly got up. Y/N and Harry got up with him.

"Off for the Great Hall, then." he said and the two students headed to the door. "I heard from Dobby that the house elves have made me my favourite Sherbet Lemons"

They nodded, polite smiles growing on their faces. They turned back towards the door, but before they could leave, Dumbledore called behind them.

"Good luck" he winked.

Harry and Y/N flushed red, Stumbling out of the office. They hurried down to the Great Hall, not even once looking at one another. It was a silent trudge downstairs.

And as Y/N took her seat at the Hufflepuff table with Cedric Diggory and Hannah Abbot, and Harry his seat at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione, they both wondered how on Earth were they going to share their first kiss in 12 days time.

#harry potter #harry #hufflepuff #hufflepuffpride #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #potterhead #hogwarts #slytherin #gryffindor #ravenclaw #minerva mcgonagall #minerva #dolores #umbridge #dolores umbridge #umbridge sucks #anti umbridge #professor umbridge #minervaisabadass #don'tmesswithminerva #hufflepuff reader #readerxharrypotter #hufflepuffreader #hufflepuffreaderxharry potter #harrypotterxreader #harry potter x you #harry potter x reader #albus dumbledore #dumbledore

[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

In My Veins (1/?)

House, M.D. Fanfic

This story takes place after the end of the series, following Wilson's death. Sorry, it had to be done for story purposes. If you've read my other fic, you know I'm a Huddy fan. This will be very Huddy. Maybe I can give them a better ending than the show.

Obviously, I don't own the show or characters. If I did, Huddy would have had a happier ending. Also, the title is based on the song "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle, which I don't own either. I highly recommend looking it up and giving it a listen. It just feels Huddy for me in regards to this story.

A huge thank you to @love-hope-faith-feels-like-a-lie for taking all of my crazy ideas and giving me honest feedback on all of my Huddy stuff, and for analyzing them with me!

This story is not as fleshed out on paper as it is in my head and will definitely be slower to update than my other fic, but it is still very much being worked on. This one is just more complicated. Please bear with me, and I hope you like what I've done! As always, feedback and comments are welcome. This story isn't as unchangeable, so predictions or something you might like to see or analyzing things are welcome too. It might be something I hadn't thought of yet.

She'd known she'd find him here. She'd known he would come after everyone else had left. She needed to see him. She just needed to know that he was okay. Her car showed to a stop, and when she got out, she saw the all too familiar figure of the man who had broken her heart... the man she couldn't help but still be in love with.

"I heard you were dead," she stated evenly as she approached the gravesite.

"I am." The familiar voice hadn't startled him. But he was very surprised she was there... and even more surprised that she didn't seem surprised to see him. "I only had you and Wilson. You left. Wilson died. Now I've got nothing," he murmured lowly after a few moments. It was useless to try hiding everything from her. She knew him almost as well as he knew her. She would wait him out until he broke. She had more patience than Wilson where he was concerned.

"I left because you drove a car through my dining room!"

"You left before that."

"When we broke up," she realized. She had expected this conversation. She'd been preparing for it the entire week before the funeral.

He just gave her a silent look. "You're not surprised to see me," he commented, looking away from her.

She just looked at him. And he could tell. "Wilson told you I wasn't really dead."

---flashback---

She stood there staring at the fresh grave, feeling... she wasn't sure what exactly she was feeling. What was she even supposed to feel? Hurt? Anger? Grief? A sense of loss bigger than she wanted to admit, bigger than she'd thought possible. When she first heard she was numb. She didn't want to believe it. There was no way the man who had caused her so much grief, who she had watched pull through so many other life threatening instances, was dead. She'd actually come to believe he was too damn stubborn to die. And then she found a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips, despite her best efforts, as she heard the all too familiar voice of the man in question echoing in her head: "Everybody dies."

She couldn't stop the slow, silent tears as they slid down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away either, instead allowing herself to feel, trying to process and label what exactly she was feeling. She'd told him once that she loved him, she couldn't help it. And now it was so very clear just how true those words were.

After spotting her, Wilson allowed her a few moments of privacy to grieve before walking over. "It's good to see you. I wasn't sure you'd come, considering."

Cuddy glanced up at him, brushing her finger under her eyes to try to look presentable. "Of course I'd come," she said quietly. "He was the most incredible man I've ever known." She had said those words to House only a couple years ago.

"The man did drive a car through your house," Wilson reminded her. Maybe bringing that up would remind her of all the shit House had done so she wouldn't be so upset.

"I had to see for myself that he was..." she trailed off, unable to say the word. It was completely insane, really. She was a doctor. She dealt with life and death every day. And now she couldn't even bring herself to say the word where he was concerned. "You're a terrible doctor," she could hear that familiar smug voice again. God, he was never going to be out of her head. "Maybe if I'd been there..."

"You could have, what? Saved him?" Wilson asked, arching an eyebrow.

She just gave him a silent look. She was beating herself up... she was feeling guilty that she hadn't been there to at least try to save him. For a long time she'd been the only one who could... from many things. This time she wasn't there, and now he was dead.

Wilson saw the guilt she felt at not being there to be his savior this time. "You always were his heart," he commented then, making a decision. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn't going to let House keep hurting her. "He's not dead."

"Wilson..." she started, realizing her friend was probably processing his own grief and loss. He must be in denial.

"He's not. It's fake." He then went into detail about how House faked his death and the reasoning behind it.

For the second time in a week, Cuddy felt numb. And the familiar anger only House could provoke in her flared. "That son of a bitch..." she almost growled.

---end flashback---

She was quiet for a moment. "He saw me at your grave. He knew I was upset."

"I told him it wouldn't make a difference to you."

"How could you think that?!"

He shrugged. "I was already dead to you. Actually being dead would serve as an improvement. Then you wouldn't be tortured by guilt over how much you hate me."

"I've never been able to hate you, House."

"I've got a lot of memories that would beg to differ." He saw the look on her face then. "Fine, not a lot of memories. But a handful." He was quiet for another moment. "One memory."

She was silent. What was she supposed to say? That she forgives him? She doesn't. "Two, actually," she finally stated. They both knew what the first was. But at his questioning look on the second, she turned away and looked straight ahead. "You made me think you were dead," she stated lowly. She had been almost as angry at that as she had been when he drove into her house. She felt he needed to know that.

He was quiet for a moment, processing what she said. He hadn't expected her anger at his fake death, though he realized now that maybe he should have. "And yet here you are," he finally commented, studying her.

"Wilson was my friend too."

"That explains why you came to the funeral... which you already knew I wouldn't be at since I'd be keeping up the appearance that I was dead. That doesn't explain why you're HERE," he explained. "You knew I was alive the entire time. You knew coming here now, after everyone else is gone... you knew I'd be here."

The way he still knew her and could cut through any facade she could concoct about why she was there, surprisingly caught her off guard for a moment. She quickly managed to cover the shocked expression in her eyes.

"You came to check on me," he stated, unable to hide the slightest trace of an amused smile. She did still care about him...at least a little. "Why?" He couldn't help but ask, couldn't help but try to push her buttons.

She just looked at him for a moment, her temper flaring a bit as she'd seen his smile. "We all have our vices," she replied, her voice echoing the same time it had taken nearly three years ago when she'd told him that she couldn't help but love him, turning on her heel to walk back to her car. He was an ass. She should have known better than to see him. She should have just gone back to her life... left him dead. In less than five minutes, he'd already managed to open Pandora's box inside her once again. And it was true... she was an addict, same as him. He was addicted to Vicoden, but she was just as addicted to him.

Her words caught him off guard, or at least the truth in them, the implication they carried had surprised him. And he did the only thing he knew to do. He followed behind her. "Wanna get a drink?" He asked, almost allowing himself to hope.

She had opened the door already, but paused, just before she got in her car. She told herself he'd just lost his best friend... his world was probably crashing down. And for as much as she told herself no, told herself it was a bad idea, she remembered the times her world had been crashing down around her and he'd been the one there. He was there through her struggle with IVF... he'd been there when she'd lost the first baby she tried to adopt. It was time to return the favor. "Get in the car."

#house #house x cuddy #house m.d. #house md #house fanfic #huddy #greg house #lisa cuddy

[dragonsrule18]

Flowey took a sharp intake of breath as he snapped back into awareness yet again after yet another load. He shook off the remembered agony of the spear that had pierced his face and focused. He couldn't afford to lose concentration here. He felt arms quickly wrap around him in a tight hug and almost summoned bullets before his brain caught up with him and he realized it was Frisk, who had relief and tears in her eyes before forcing her face into a more neutral expression to keep from showing weakness to any homicidal monsters that might be watching, though he could feel her barely controlled trembling, her eyes flicking around to find a place to hide. There was a small cave nearby and she carried him towards it, checking for traps or other monsters before going inside it with him.

She barely had enough room to stand in it, but it was deep enough to shield them from prying eyes. Now that they couldn't be seen, she clung to him, crying as she checked him for wounds, fingers running gently over the old scars and tears on his petals, careful not to hurt him. She was always careful, always gentle, a rare creature of tenderness trapped in this world.

"I'm okay, Frisk."

"Flowey, you jumped in front of a damn spear for me! You died!" she sobbed, hugging him like she was afraid he would disappear. "I almost lost you..."

Flowey let her and gave the best hug he could back with his leaf "hands." "You didn't lose me. You brought me back. I'm fine. Everything's fine."

"It's not fine!" she snapped. Flowey flinched and she softened her tone. "You died, Flowey. You died and I watched you die and I couldn't do anything to stop it in time...Why'd you have to jump in front of me like that? I can't die, so why'd you have to risk yourself?"

"Because I care about you! Do you think I don't hate seeing you get hurt or die?! And how many damn times have you blocked an attack to protect me, or been attacked because you were warning me and lost concentration? It works both ways, Frisk! You're my friend too and I know you can feel yourself dying..." And part of him was scared Frisk's loads would run out or that she would stay dead.  "And you KNOW we don't know how many loads you could have, so why the hell did you feel the need to waste one on me?! What if the next time you die you can't come back?! You've got to stop being so damn stupid, Frisk! Stop risking yourself for me!" he hissed, though he was still careful to keep his voice low so monsters outside couldn't hear them. He glared at her, both out of anger and grief.

She glared back at him, no less stubborn than he was. "You're my best friend, Flowey! There's no way I'm letting you die! I care about you too damn much for that and you've been through enough shit with both the deaths you've had at the hands of those assholes before I even came here and then dealing with them again trying to protect me! I don't care if I only have a limited amount of loads to use; I'm still saving you if something happens to your stupid ass! You mean too much to me for me to just let you die!"

"Now you listen to me! You're going to stop thinking like that and doing this reckless crap before I make you, you idiot! I'm not losing another person I care about!" He was shaking even harder and he didn't notice the hot tears in his eyes until his vision began to blur. "Just stop it, Frisk...Please..." Each and every time she had died and he hadn't been able to save her flashed through his mind, as well as the image of a sickly, dying Chara stolen from him by an illness he couldn't protect them from.

Frisk's eyes softened, though he couldn't see it through his tears. She pulled him close. He collapsed against her, all anger gone, taken away by the aching grief. He was sobbing now, unable to stop it, burying his face against her neck.

No matter how hard he tried to be tough, both as Asriel and as Flowey, no matter whether his soul was whole or just a fragment, he always was a crybaby, the weakling son of the fearsome warrior king Asgore, the prince who felt too much.

Loved too much.

He cried for Chara, lost to him forever, for his mother, only an insane shell of herself in the ruins, for Frisk, who could be stolen from him at any time, for everything this hellhole had taken away and could take away.

Frisk held him close through all this, stroking his scarred petals in that gentle way she always had, whispering comforting words through her own tears. He soaked up the touch of the only person who had showed him kindness since he had taken on this form. His best friend. The one who stood by him as much as he stood by her. The last light surviving in the darkness of this world. The one he would have(and had) died for. The one who had died for him.

He raised his tear filled eyes to look into hers, saw the love and affection her own warm brown eyes held. The look he knew he was mirroring.

And he knew. They both did.

He knew she would never stop protecting him, just as she knew he would never stop protecting her. No matter how reckless they thought the other was being, no matter how much they would argue about it, they understood in a way. They knew they would do the same. Their bond, started in the ruins with some kind words, an act of mercy, and a helping hand, made stronger through conflict, teamwork, trust, and sacrifice, had become unbreakable. Nothing in them would allow them to let the other die when they could do something to save them. They were both too stubborn.

They loved each other too much.

For a while, they simply held onto each other like lifelines, soaking up the comfort, the emotions they couldn't share while wandering the Underground.

"It's hard. It's so hard." Frisk whispered through her tears. "But we can do this. I'll get you out of here. I promise I'll get you out of here."

Flowey nodded once he could speak without breaking into tears again. "We've got each other and everything's going to be okay." he choked out. "No matter how hard it gets, I'll be right by your side. We'll make it to the surface. Together."

"Together." she agreed in a soft whisper. They rested together for a few more minutes, and then she picked him up, holding him close to her, and checked to make sure her knife was where she could get it if she needed to. They both took a deep breath, looked to one another, and they left the cave, filled with determination.

Let the monsters try to stop them if they dared.

They would do whatever it took to protect one another.

#fanfiction #underfell flowey #frisk #underfell frisk #undertale comic #undertale fanart #underfell #undertale #drawing #old sketch #colored pencil #pencil drawing #pencil sketch #undertale fanfiction

[canonconspiracy]

Dying Together And Drinks (Murphy x Reader)

Fandom: The 100

Fanfiction By: @rmorningstar21

Pairing: John Murphy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Severe Injury

Cross posting on Wattpad and AO3 (@rmorningstar21)

__________

At first, when you were left injured in the dropship, you just lied there.  Everyone was gone, and your wound made it so you would be unable to stand, unable to move.  Murphy had made sure that you would die, and the fact that no one had taken out the bullet that was allowing you to bleed eternally, you knew that with everyone gone, you were done for.  

Somehow Raven, who had also received a bullet from Murphy, was taken away by the same men that gassed the rest of the camp.  You had not seen them taken away, but hiding behind the metal inside the dropship, you were unseen by the assailants. In that sense, maybe you had gotten lucky.  

When you heard movement, you reached for the gun nearby, pointing it at the only place of entry of the dropship, when your eyes landed upon a bloodied, beaten John Murphy.  Your lips visibly frowned upon the sight of the limping boy, heart clenched with fear of uncertainty as the boy had been the one to shoot you in the first place.  

"What are you doing here?" You spat weakly, your teeth fresh with blood as your eyes watched the boy make his way in.  

Murphy held his hands up weakly in defeat, his lips in a frown as he laid his eyes upon you.  "Dying, same as you," he said simply, that little bit of Murphy sass still apparent in his voice as he spoke, no matter how badly injured he was.  

If you weren't in so much pain, just maybe you would have let out a sarcastic chuckle.  Instead, you tossed your gun off to the side, before moving yourself to as much of a seated position as you could muster.  "If you can get close enough, just maybe I could get the restraints off you," you said softly, struggling to speak as you did, but your eyes were set upon the bloodied brunette.  

He took no time getting over to you, though it was a struggle.  You reached into your pocket to pull out a knife, taking his hand with your own as you cut the bounds that were upon his wrist.  His eyes that caught your own were almost shocked as he felt his hands freed, massaging his wrists as he backed away from you, returning to the spot that he originally was.

There weren't a great deal of words shared between the two of you before you began coughing up blood.  You felt as if you were drowning, your eyes widened as you coughed. Blood trickled and spilled from your mouth as you struggled.  

"Hey, hey," Murphy said quickly, getting over to you as quickly as he could.  "Get on your side, now." He started to move you, and you struggled initially, before allowing him to fully turn you to your side.  "There, just like that. Are you okay?" 

You allowed yourself to cough all the blood out that you possibly had to cough before your eyes glanced back into his deep brown eyes.  In a shaky tone, you asked, "Why are you helping me?" 

His lips curled into a half smile, saying, "I don't want to die alone." 

"I'm likely going to die before you, you know," you said with a soft, pained chuckle.  

This time, he sat beside you, laughing pained and sarcastic as well.  "You're reassuring," he said sarcastically as he sat by your side. "Why are you being so nice to me?" 

You sighed, sitting up as much as you could try and muster.  "What made you like this, Murphy?" You countered. "My parents didn't love me, but I don't go around killing people." 

"My parents loved me," he countered, a frown on his face.  You could almost see tears forming in his eyes as he spoke, and your own eyes softened at the sight.  

"Then what, pray tell, made a boy whose parents loved him into a killer?" You said, before watching his eyes water just a tad more, causing you to frown.  "I mean, I really want to know, Murphy." 

You watched the boy's pained brown eyes almost overflowing with tears, truly showing you into his soul as he looked at you.  "He gets the flu," he started off, his voice full of melancholy, mixed with the rough tone of a man that was tortured mercilessly.  "Then his father steals medicine that it turns out wouldn't have helped, and got floated for it. His mother turns to drinking. Before he find her lying in a puddle of her own vomit, she tells him that he was the one who killed his father." 

Your heart tightened at his words, and you absently reach your pained hand out towards Murphy.  He flinches at the initial touch of your hand against his own, but does not pull away. "I'm sorry, Murphy," you murmured softly, your eyes averting as you spoke, directed towards the floor of the drop ship.  "If it means anything, I've never actually hated you." 

"I shot you," he muttered out, his brown eyes glancing back over to you.  "I've held a knife to your throat."  

Admittedly, the list of wrongs that he had done to you was long, and he could have gone on, but he had also done positive things for you as well.  Through the short time that you had all been on the ground, it had been about survival. Everyone had done bad, and it was not just John Murphy that had killed.  Thinking back to who he killed, even when he tried to hang Bellamy, it was all revenge. Being hung was not something you could just forgive and forget, and in a sense, you could understand that.

You squeezed his hand gently, reassuringly as you said in your weak voice, "We've all done shit since we've been down here.  I'm not going to say you're a fucking angel, or thank you for shooting me, but you've done what you needed to do. I can't condone every action, but I can understand them." 

"I didn't mean to shoot you," he defended raspily, his grimace prominent upon his face.  "I saw you at the hanging. Even after I threatened you, you were trying to get me down." 

You could feel a few tears drip from your eyes at his words, and took in a sharp breath.  "I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from happening, really. You may walk around camp like the local badass, but I didn't think you killed Wells.  Even if you had, what they did was too much." 

"I kind of wish it didn't go this far," he said softly, a whisper that wondered whether or not he wanted you to truly know how he was feeling.  "You're the one person that's seemed to care." 

"Well, we'll both be dead soon anyways," you said with a melancholic chuckle, your breath wheezing slightly as you spoke.  Your eyesight had already begun to blur, lack of blood taking its toll upon your body as you sat beside him. The warmth in your body was slowly draining as the blood did.  "But, in hindsight, I wish we got to spend some more time together." 

Murphy moved closer to you, clearly feeling the temperature change in your skin, resting your head upon his lap.  He stroked your hair gently, tears dropping cautiously from his eyes as he held you. Partially from the blood loss, and partially from the fact that you did not mind it anyhow, you allowed it all to happen without a fight.  He whispered to you, "Y/N, please, don't you die on me yet." 

Your world was blurry, but you were still breathing for the time being when the calvary had arrived.  Though you were not sure who had walked in, your eyes closed as Murphy was stroking your hair comfortingly.  "Help her!" Murphy exclaimed, referring to you.  

You felt your heart speed up for a bit as you were removed from your comfort, actually missing Murphy's surprisingly gentle touch.  Your vision was replaced with Dr. Griffin as she checked you out, initially saying, "Y/N, you're going to be okay," in a soothing, motherly nature.  "What happened to you?" 

"I-I got shot," you said weakly.  

Abby checked out your injury, telling you that you would need surgery and that you would need to be brought on a stretcher.  Shortly afterwards, you, Abby, and Murphy were joined by Bellamy and Finn. Murphy walked at your side, as with his injuries he was still limping and unable to carry the stretcher.  

"T-thank you," you whispered to him as you were lying on your back, head turned to see him.  "In case I die, you know." 

"You're not going to die," Murphy snarked, a light smirk across his lips.  "You're a fighter." 

***

Murphy was right, of course,and you had to spend days waiting for him to return to Camp Jaha.  You had to wait even longer for Murphy to be let out of interrogation, as Finn had massacred a handful of women and children.  It felt like forever since you had seen the sarcastic asshole last, until he popped right down beside you at the table.  

You gently sipped the moonshine, glancing your eyes over to his brown eyed gaze.  "I'm fully pardoned," he started off with, as the two of you sat with Clarke, Bellamy, and shortly joined by Finn.  "The pardons for the 100 extend to what has happened on the ground." 

You allowed your lips to slip into a smile, and you acknowledged him with your eyes.  For whatever reason, though you were so excited to see him, you could not seem to utter a word to him.  He returned the same look, though, and it melted you inside.  

He proceeded to make enough snarky comments between the group to be told to leave the table, shortly followed by yourself.  "I-I've been waiting to see you again," you said sheepishly, though your voice was almost too low for even him to hear.  

"I see you made it through surgery," he said back to you, a slight smirk on his face.  

You chuckled, saying, "I had something to look forward to once I got out, so I couldn't really die on that operating table." 

"Oh?" Murphy replied sarcastically.  "What, you found a boyfriend within the time I've been gone?" 

"You wish," you said sarcastically with a chuckle.  "Maybe I went crazy from blood loss, because I was actually looking forward to seeing you again." 

"You've got to be kidding me," Murphy said rolling his eyes, though his smirk was turning into a little more of a smile as he glanced over to you, taking another sip of his moonshine.  "What, I shot you and you fell in love with me?" 

"In your dreams, Murphy," you chided sarcastically.  "It takes a little more than almost dying to win my affection, thank you." 

"Well, I have some other ideas," he replied, his voice getting almost suggestive as he spoke.  

You rolled your eyes, saying, "Not holding a knife to my throat again, right?" 

"Hey, I'm not a psycho," Murphy scolded lightly, causing you to laugh.  

You reached for his hand, placing yours gently on top of his as you did.  A bit of blush formed upon your cheek at the feel of his calloused hand below your own, especially since he did not pull away.  "I'm kidding, jesus, Murphy," you said softly.  

Murphy's brown eyes flickered to your lips, and back up into your eyes, as if he was asking you politely.  This was a shocking action from Murphy, but nonetheless, the two of you began leaning in closer to one another, until the gap was fully closed.  You could taste the moonshine against his lips, and moulded yours to his as the two of you kissed. Feeling him smirk into the kiss made you blush just a little bit more.  

You wished that it did not end when it did, but unfortunately you could hear someone clear their throat behind you.  Bellamy was standing behind the two of you, his arms crossed in disapproval as he watched the two of you separate. An annoyed look blossomed on Murphy's face as he noticed who was creating the hindrance towards the two of yours lips colliding once again.  

"So, you two?" Bellamy scoffed.  "Really?" 

"Do you have a problem, Blake?" Murphy chided.  

You rolled your eyes, before the two of them could get into another stupid fight, standing up to be in front of Murphy, in between him and Bellamy.  "Yes, really," you said confidently. "If it weren't for him, I would have died in that drop ship hours before anyone got there. I know you boys don't see eye to eye, but I don't see where you have any reason to jump in on our affairs." 

Bellamy let out an annoyed huff, knowing he couldn't step into anything that would piss the guards off, leaving the two of you alone once more.  You turned back to Murphy, who had a somewhat impressed smirk upon his face. Watching as he stood, you felt his arms slip around your waist firmly.  

"You really pissed off the king," he chided playfully, nuzzling his head into your neck as he spoke.  

You chuckled softly, curling into him a bit as the two of you stood.  "He's not the king of our society anymore," you said softly. "And after all, who cares?  He'll get over it eventually." 

"Would you prefer to go somewhere a little more private?" Murphy suggested, knowing it was getting late anyhow.  

You hummed in reply, nodding as you did so.  Hand in hand, the two of you made your way back to your room, which was mainly adorned with the pile of discarded pillows and blankets that you had made into a bed.  "I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing," you said softly.  

The two of you had not gotten overly frisky this night, instead, actually getting to know one another while lying comfortably in one another's arms.  He stroked your hair gently as the two of you spoke, enjoying the soft feeling of your hair against his skin. You told him about you, and how your parents were only present until a little bit before you were put in the sky box, as they had been much like his mother.  

Lying peacefully in one another's arms, soft kisses were shared with chapped lips, as well as secrets you had never told anyone of the 100 before.  To think, you almost died merely a few days prior, in the presence of the same person who warmed your bed now. The two of you eventually drifted off into slumber, and though the tough John Murphy would never admit it, he had been the happiest he had been since he arrived on Earth - even the happiest he'd been since he was sick.

[oumakokichi]

I've agreed with almost everything you've said on this blog except for the idea that Iruma might get away with murdering Ouma. Her plan to frame Momota would immediately fall apart when Saihara read the label on the poison, which would make it obvious Momota was being framed and would leave Iruma as the most suspicious person due to all the strange things she did like dropping the bridge and calling everyone to the virtual world in the first place. Also Shirogane saw her.

The thing is, the charactersthemselves also say Miu probably would’ve gotten away with her plan. Some ofher behavior looked sketchy, sure, but if she had actually managed to killOuma, she would’ve had as much time as she needed to carry out her plan, hideor destroy evidence, etc. There wouldn’t have been anything left todefinitively pin on her, even if she did look a bit suspicious—and Momota stillwould’ve looked even more suspicious by virtue of having been logged out firstand not even noticing that Ouma was dead for probably hours on end, since heleft to go take a nap in the dorms.

The most important thing to keepin mind is that Miu had complete and total control of the VR world. Everythingthe other characters knew about it, they learned from her. She lied to themabout several vital facts. Not only were they all unaware of the loop shecovered up and the special settings of the wall that only objects could cross,but they weren’t even aware of the whole “you die in the game, you die in reallife” rule. In fact, none of them even knew that pain and other sensationsexperienced by their avatars would be transmitted to their real-world bodiesuntil after Ouma punched Kiibo in the parlor the first time to test it out.

If Miu had managed to kill Ouma,there would’ve been absolutely no way for Saihara, Maki, or anyone else toinvestigate anything about the programming of the VR world itself. The onlyreason they learned about many of the most important factors in the Chapter 4trial as it occurred was because Monotarou agreed to help them, due to being “griefstruck”by Miu’s death. But with Miu alive and well, she would’ve been perfectly ableto lie to them all further, and there would’ve been no way for them to knowabout the fact that Ouma’s avatar was programmed to stop moving when shetouched him, about the looped status of the world, or about the fact that thehammer was still left inside the program even after she claimed that she’ddeleted all weapons from it.

Saihara also admits in Chapter 3when he first finds the computer room that he’s not good with computers, atall. He doesn’t know the first thing about programming, so it’s not as thoughhe could’ve investigated the computer for himself to check whether Miu waslying or not. When a detective is incapable of investigating the most importantpart of the crime scene, that pretty much guarantees that the mystery isunsolvable. Some of the basic rules of any mystery novel is that the detectivehas the right to investigate, and that clues have to be foreshadowed andpresented—but Saihara would’ve been unable to investigate anything directly,and would’ve had to take Miu at her word.

Even if Ouma’s death obviously didn’tmatch the label on the poison (his eyes wouldn’t have been red, obviously), itwould’ve been nearly impossible to determine any other cause of death for him.With no obvious weapons in sight and no one even remotely sure that shockexperienced in the VR world would lead to death in the real world, Momota stillwould’ve been the most suspicious person around. All Miu would’ve had to do issay that maybe the poison itself was a mislead, but that Momota might’ve killedOuma with some other method, and that would’ve probably gotten the debate goingagain.

Even though Tsumugi saw Miu, Idoubt she’d have really insisted that point in the trial. After all, it was “impossible”for Miu to have been on the mansion side, as far as they all knew. Miu herselfwould’ve only insisted that even further, reminding them all that the bridge “accidentally”got knocked into the water—and again, without being able to investigate thecode and discovering that there was only one Y-axis, it would’ve beenimpossible for Saihara or anyone else to figure out that the world was set toloop. So Tsumugi probably would’ve just said that she thought she saw Miu, andmust have seen it wrong.

Upon discovering the extent ofthe plan that Miu had in store, pretty much everyone in the Chapter 4 trial realizesthat, with her ability to lie to them about the VR world and clean up anddispose of evidence as she pleased, she really did stand an incredibly good chanceof getting away with it. Even if no one actually believed Momota did it and herframe-job didn’t work, and even if everyone discovered that death in the VRworld led to death in the real world, they still would’ve assumed the crimecould “only” have been possible for someone on the mansion side of the world.Meaning the remaining suspects would have been Gonta, Tsumugi, and Saihara.

Saihara and Tsumugi had an alibifor Miu’s death when they heard the crash of her hitting the chapel—but there’sno way to tell when Ouma’s body would’ve been discovered, as Miu would’veprobably left him up on the roof and then returned back to the chapel side. Soif they had split up to investigate more parts of the mansion at any point,they might not have been able to provide an alibi for each other. Meaning allthree of them would’ve been viable suspects, even if Momota wasn’t. It reallywouldn’t have been clear at all that Miu did it, and I suspect the trial reallywould’ve ended with Miu getting away with it.

Miu was hardly the smartest whenit came to common sense or general knowledge. But in her area of expertise, shewas unparalleled. Her technology was able to hijack Exisals and even snatchcontrol of the game away from the ringleader itself, so it makes sense that shewould be an incredibly deadly threat when it came to her own plans for murder.She was terrified and desperate to get back to the outside world, so it makessense that she put a lot of thought and care into her VR world plan.

It’s not as though it’s 100% guaranteedthat her plan would’ve worked—but it is highly implied by the narrative itself,and it seems as though most of the characters themselves agree that they would’vehad no way to tell how much she’d been lying to them if they hadn’t discoveredit after her death. So personally, I think her chances of getting away with itand becoming a successful culprit were pretty high.

That’s just my take on it,though! There’s no way to tell for sure, since Chapter 4 turned out… well, theway that it did. But it’s really fun to envision different scenarios or ways inwhich things might’ve turned out. Thanks for stopping by, anon!

#ndrv3 #drv3 #new danganronpa v3 #miu iruma #iruma miu #ndrv3 spoilers // #my meta #okay to reblog #anonymous