Tumgik
#anyway this is the first time my dad has kind of paid attention to me
satoruxx · 21 days
Text
PARACOSM OF THE GODS.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words
SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing
RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33
Tumblr media
i. the unknown
satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  
his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 
you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 
"who's the rookie?" 
satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 
it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 
he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 
"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.
satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 
suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 
the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 
suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 
"maybe she's strong?" 
"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 
ii. routine 
"can i ask you guys a question?" 
a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 
"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 
"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 
"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 
satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 
"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.
"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 
you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 
the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  
"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 
after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.
"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 
"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 
"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."
the conversation ends there. 
shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.
shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 
a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 
but you can't. 
iii. halcyon
"hey suguru?"
"hm?"
"how come you always do your hair the same way?"
suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.
"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.
"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."
"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.
"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"
he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."
you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"
he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.
"how should i style it then, hotshot?"
his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."
he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.
"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"
suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"
you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."
he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.
"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.
"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.
"i like yours."
you blink. "mine?"
"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."
something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.
"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."
"do mine like that," he says quickly.
once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"
"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.
"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.
"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."
"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.
iv. fragility
"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 
"—so that makes you her family then." 
suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 
"…yes." 
you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 
"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 
"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 
"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 
satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 
you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 
he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 
"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 
it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 
that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?
your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 
v. longing
riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 
satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.
you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 
"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  
"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 
"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 
suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 
"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 
you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 
your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 
the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 
and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 
"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 
"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."
his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 
he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 
"me too." 
he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 
"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 
you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 
he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 
"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 
he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 
"mine?" you chuckle.
"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 
"oh? and why's that?" 
suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 
you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 
"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 
"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.
"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 
"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 
suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 
"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 
vi. ice bath
shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.
the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 
"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 
you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.
you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.
suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.
now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 
shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 
where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 
you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 
"shoko?" 
it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 
"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 
vii. acid rain
the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 
"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"
you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 
"let's get out of here, guys."
your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 
satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 
you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?
"do you want to…kill them all?" 
the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 
"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.
you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 
you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.
satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 
"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 
you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 
"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 
"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 
satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 
you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 
"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 
viii. fever dreams
satoru lies next to you. 
a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 
tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 
it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 
his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.
you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 
"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 
"i know." 
ix. doubt
satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.
not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 
"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 
there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 
"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 
he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 
your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 
"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 
there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"
a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 
"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"
"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 
x. shadow
satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.
you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"
"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.
"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."
your head is spinning.
"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"
"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.
"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."
you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"
satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.
"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."
you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.
"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"
shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.
god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.
"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.
"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.
"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"
a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."
you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.
"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"
you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.
his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"
his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."
xi. hellfire
you hear suguru before you see him.
his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.
you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.
or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.
it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.
you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.
now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.
suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.
you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.
"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"
your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.
you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.
"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.
he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"
"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"
"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."
you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.
"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.
"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.
"he went back to the dorms."
"okay."
you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.
the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.
haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.
not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.
you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"
his voice sounds far away. "hm?"
"are you okay?"
he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."
"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."
you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.
"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.
but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.
haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.
"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"
his voice tickles your ears.
"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 
hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.
suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.
you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.
"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"
"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."
something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.
you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 
you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.
but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.
xii. split
he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 
you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 
but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 
that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 
suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 
"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 
"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.
but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 
"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 
"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 
you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.
you don't know what to say to him now. 
"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 
"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 
"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"
the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 
"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 
your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"
suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 
anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 
suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 
"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 
"suguru—" 
"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 
you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 
a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…
"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 
"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 
he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 
you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 
you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."
he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  
you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 
he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 
nobody has laughed in a while now. 
you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 
he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.
"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 
his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 
"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 
a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.
"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 
you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 
"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 
go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 
"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 
"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 
"better late than never, right?" 
the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 
his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 
"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 
"'m not crying." 
suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.
he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 
he doesn't. 
"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"
"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 
he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."
he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 
you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 
you accept your fate then and there. 
you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.
he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.
xiii. sanctify
satoru's at your door again. 
you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 
"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 
YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.
underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 
hotshot failing class now huh? :P
and shoko had added: 
both of you stfu you're failing too 
you had drawn a heart next to her name. 
"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"
satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 
"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 
he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.
a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 
"want help?" 
"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 
"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 
"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 
you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 
"…are all of suguru's things." 
there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 
"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 
satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 
"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 
"guess not." 
you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.
you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 
a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 
"let's get started then, hotshot." 
he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 
but it's enough for the two of you. 
"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 
"so do you." 
"i am," you admit honestly. 
"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 
"i know," you answer. you always are.
nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 
you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  
both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 
you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 
"hey." 
you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 
"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 
you frown. "what are you talking about?" 
"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 
you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 
satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 
you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 
"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 
"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."
xiv. idyll
it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.
tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.
"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.
"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."
"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."
"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."
"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"
you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."
satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"
"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.
"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.
"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."
satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."
he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.
so you don't say anything either.
the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.
when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"
you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."
"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."
"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."
"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."
you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."
satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"
you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"
your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.
he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"
your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"
satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."
he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."
he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.
"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.
his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."
"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.
then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."
everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.
you can't help but smile. "always."
you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.
the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.
he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.
xv. retribution
the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.
he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.
and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.
except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.
he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.
the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.
suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.
you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.
it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.
you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.
a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"
you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"
"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"
your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.
"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"
he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"
there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.
"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.
it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.
his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."
you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.
he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.
you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.
but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?
you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"
he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."
"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.
"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"
he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.
another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.
and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.
he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.
when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.
"you're late, satoru."
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
mylifestylearedilfs · 8 months
Text
⇢ ˗ˏˋ cillian murphy x daughter!reader ࿐ྂ
Tumblr media
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WASHING MACHINE HEART : angst ; imagine ; all is fictional ; cillian is a bad parent here (probably a great father irl)
, , ,
_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ BEING THE OLDEST childnever had been easy. y/n was cillian & his wife's first child, but she wasn’t wanted by them; she wasn’t in their plans. they were just before marriage when y/n was born, and she totally ruined all of their plans. unfortunately, she wasn’t this kind of child who was unexpected but loved anyway. maybe her mom paid attention to her when she was a newborn because she has this maternal instinct. but everything has changed since her brothers were born; they were the apple of her parents' eyes. they have always had the attention and affection of both of her parents; even if cillian was filming a new movie and didn’t have time for anything, he had time for his boys.
her parents always wanted the best for their boys; they have everything they asked for, and she was in the shadow of her brothers. she never heard her parents say ‘i love you’ to her. her childhood was full of crying and wondering, ‘why don't my parents want me?’ she was jealous of her younger siblings, she wanted to be loved like they were.
but the worst part of this came when she started to be a teenager. she started to understand more than she could as a child, but the nightmare didn’t stop. she started to be aware of the fact that her parents never really wanted her, and she could not do anything to make them love her. she was trying her hardest to get her parents' attention. she even signed herself up for a drama club because she wanted to have common interests with her dad and make him proud. but he never showed up for her performance because one of her brothers always had his own performance in theater, and he chose him, just like always.
she remembered, like today, her play where she was playing the main role, and after the show, she was looking for her parents in the audience, but nobody was there. she was still a kid, crying at the scene because her parents didn’t care about her, even on an important day like this one. she was doing all of this acting because she thought that her dad would be proud of her, and she wasn’t even enjoying it. she wasn’t happy doing that; she just thought her dad would be happy.
seeing other people her age having the best time with their families makes her wonder why her parents hate her so much and what she has done for this type of life. watching happy families makes her suddenly feel like a child who begs her father to pay attention to her.
, , ,
years passed, and she had her eighteenth birthday. it was supposed to be her happiest day in life because she started to be an adult, but of course nothing can be perfect, even for one day in the year. she wanted to celebrate this day with her family, but when she came to the living room, everyone was acting like they forgot what day it was.
she was mad. she had enough of being ignored all her life; all she wanted was to be loved by her parents and have a bit of attention this day. without thinking, she grabbed the family photo she wasn’t even be at and threw it on the floor. watching as the glass broke into small pieces.
“what is wrong with you y/n?!” her dad snapped at her, didn’t understanding what she was doing.
“what is wrong with me?! you-” she didn’t realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks. “you don’t care about me; you don’t give a shit about me�� cillian wanted to say something, but she interrupted him. “you shouldn’t just make people if you are going to treat them like shit and make them think they do something wrong their whole life.” at this moment, she just broke into tears as she looked at her father’s face, and without saying a word, she came back to her room.
she didn't deserve it. she didn't deserve it at all.
, , ,
⇢ ˗ˏˋ thank you for attention! and im sorry for any mistakes. and remember it’s all fictional, cillian is probably great father but i wanted to write something like this. take care!
223 notes · View notes
nerves-nebula · 11 months
Note
TW // Body Horror
He’s reading. Reading in the living room.
The pages of his comic were flipped mindlessly- each page just a blur of indescribable colour. No attention was paid to it.No attention could be paid to it. He didn’t know why.
He was shivering. He should get a blanket, but his brain just didn’t process it. It was like the cold was some secondary sense he was feeling- as if it belonged to someone else. Not him, not his body. He didn’t feel like getting a blanket anyway.
A clatter sang through the lair.
Leo stood to attention. It was night, nobody should be awake. Much less carrying things around.
He left the living room, but kept the book, just in case it was one of his brothers or dad. He needed an excuse to be readily available.
He found Raph.
He was carrying some kind of duffel bag, now on the floor with a few cans spilling out.
“Heya, Raph! What’cha doing at this time of night, hm?”
“None of your business, Leo.”
Leo rolls his eyes casually. He studies the duffel bag a bit more. The cans spilling out are unmarked, he notices. A few of them are open. Inside, he spots things moving.
“Hey, uh, Raph? What’s inside those cans, a pet of yours?”
“No, Leo. Just go away.” Raph crouches down to pick up the cans. He stuffs them inside the duffel and walks towards the door. The door to leave. The door to leave, but when it’s night.
“Wait, Raph, where are you going?”
“Piss off, Leo.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Shut it.”
“Where to?”
“Leo.”
Leo puts a hand on Raph’s shoulder. “Why are you l-” But it melts into it.
“Wh- what-”
Raph’s body, as he now notices- it’s wriggling- like worms in a pile. It’s melding together like melted cheese.
Raph’s head turns around and his neck strings with the movement.
Raph’s mouth opens like it’s going to say something, but Leo thinks he can safely assume his vocal chords were clogged up quickly. A choked retching of a sound leaves instead of whatever was meant to. Raph’s eyelids close, only to get stuck and open in ribbons that barely show his eyes.
Leo tries to pull his arm back- he can’t.
It’s stuck.
“What the fuck.” said a voice from behind him. Leo snapped his neck around quickly.
“Mikey? Mikey, help. Mikey.” Whatever’s left of Raph’s vocal chords gargle near him.
“What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“I don’t know! Get Donnie!”
“Fine, fine!” Mikey runs out the room.
Leo turns back to Raph’s melting body, only to find his head coming closer towards him. Loe flinches back and screams, trying to push away Raph’s head with his free hand. It too gets swallowed by Raph’s skull.
“Oh my god. This- what the hell. Mikey? Are you back yet? MIKEY. MIKEY! MIKEY, HURRY THE FUCK UP! *MIKEY*”
A faint voice answers. “I’m coming, I’m coming! I’m bringing Donnie!”
They arrive quickly.
“What is ha- what. What th-the?”
“Do you know what this is?”
“Of c-course I don’t!”
“Hey, can one of you guys try and pull me… out of his head and shoulder?”
“You got it in his *head*?”
“I didn’t mean to!”
Mikey rolls his eyes, but goes up to him nonetheless.
He puts his hands on Leo’s shoulder and starts to pull. At first, it feels like it’s working. But the grip quickly goes weaker.
“Are you even trying?”
“I am! It’s not my fault you’re still- oh shIT. SHIT. FUCK”
“What?” Leo turns his head.
Mikey’s hands were sloping and sloshing into his shoulders. Leo’s eyes go wide.
“WHAT THE HELL. Get your hands off of me!”
“I can’t, dumbass! If you didn’t already notice, they’re melting!”
“Donnie, pull me out!”
“N-no.”
“What? Why not?”
“Isn’t it obvious, Leo? They- they only started melting when they touched you! It’s you w-who’s doing this. It’s like you’re radioactive- toxic- to us.”
“What?”
“You’re toxic. You’re making us worse.”
“What are you-”
“You are too dependant on us, and it’s become *our* downfall. You ruin us.
“I don’t-”
“All of our problems are your fault, Leo.”
“W-”
“This is *all. your. fault.*”
Leo wakes up. He’s in a room that’s unfamiliar to him, until it clicks. They’ve been living in the hidden city for a couple months now. Not home. Not with Splinter.
He doesn’t feel like trying to go to sleep again.
So he’s reading. Reading in the bedroom.
(I will probably make an aftermath of this soon)
Tumblr media
pictured: me reading this (positive)
aaaAAAAAAAAAAA I LOVE the way it loops back at the end that's such a classic way to write this story, agsodgdshgag. Thank you for remembering Leo's had nightmares his whole life- he would definitely eventually start having nightmares that incorporate his post-nightmare behavior INTO them. anyway this was fantastic, and i like how Donnie stopped stuttering halfway through the dream- i was pretty sure this wasn't real but that kind of confirmed that it wasn't REALLY donnie.
57 notes · View notes
trytofic · 6 months
Text
Mermaids
I was a little late in the day posting this, but I was too busy this AM.
Anyway Mermaids was a super fun one!
Past Sonadow with child and then Amy pops in and seems to give him a bit more pep <3 Kind of a "there will always be love" regardless of whether it is one true love or finding a new one after one love is over.
Ao3
Day 12: Mermaids
She watched the sky to finally see the boat that had recently caught her attention.
Tumblr media
The cool air his Amy’s hair, the cloud lazily moving across the sky, a wonderful sight. She knew Knuckles hated when she would freely swim up toward the top of the sea. But she loved seeing the colors of the boats and watching the clouds was prettier than the sea anemones. In fact, one of the boats nearby has caught her attention several times but, she has been nervous about getting too close. This one has a black hedgehog who always looks lonely when on the water. He never really paid attention to the fishing rod in his hands. But this day was different. There were two lines off the side of the boat and he had a small smile on his face. Curiosity got the better of her and she heard his voice for the first time. It was soothing and soft. 
“Zonic, you know you don’t have to sit there. I’ll pull your line in and you can go play.”
“But I want to know why you like it so much!”
“It’s just very relaxing. But you’re too much like your father. Staying in one place for long isn’t your thing.” He chuckled and Amy swore her heart skipped a beat.
“Are you sure, dad?”
“Of course, son.” She could barely see a smile on his muzzle, and she knew the image would forever be in her mind. She heard a thump and some laughter as the black hedgehog reeled in the fishing line. She must have been the reason why there weren’t any fish near the boat. She started to swim to the other side, and she looked up to see another small hedgehog. She assumed that’s who was also speaking. She saw blue quills and bright red eyes, much like the other hedgehog. The two looked at one another and Amy dove under the water. 
She nervously hid away, knowing no one was to have seen her. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair until she heard a splash. She turned to see the same young hedgehog slowly sinking away from the boat. Amy quickly swam to the young child and saw they were scared. As she held them to her chest, she quickly breached the water. The child coughed and gasped. She could hear the older hedgehog yelling and as she looked up, he stared at her holding the child, specifically at her webbed fingers that were around his son’s shoulders. 
“Zonic?” He held his arms out to the child and the child whipped his head towards him.
“Dad!” His small arms reached towards his father and Amy slowly swam closer to the boat and raised him to the black hedgehog. As they held onto one another his eyes peered down and Amy and she gave a small wave before quickly diving under the water again. She didn’t have the heart to be around him, knowing she was possibly a cause for the boy to fall into the water. 
But she didn’t stay away long. She found herself at the side of his boat only a few days later. She was looking him in the eyes and nervous but so excited. 
“Thank you for saving my son.” His voice is somber. “I already lost his father… if I had lost him as well…” He closed his eyes and she saw the way he held himself. Scared and worried. His son was so loved.
“I’m sorry that he fell because of me. I shouldn’t have gotten close.” She apologized. His eyes were wide, and he walked closer to the edge. “My curiosity got the better of me.”
“You…” She expected to see anger in his eyes but all she saw was concern. He was such a kind soul. “My name is Shadow.” He held out his hand to her and she gently put hers in his. “If you ever have any questions or just want to speak with someone, don’t hesitate.” He gave her the kindest smile and she could hear the heat on her face. She wished she could simply jump on the boat and hold him, but her tail felt a yank and she knew she had to leave. She was being warned that her brother was nearing. 
“My name is Amy, please take care of yourself and your son.” She gave him the sweetest smile she could muster and let go of his hand, quickly diving back under the water. 
Shadow stood on his boat mourning the loss of her warm hand. He thought the pink flashes were just the red snapper fish that were common in the area, but to know it had been her. He had been searching for something so beautiful, only to realize she had been watching him. His heart felt tight as he realized this feeling of affection that he had only ever felt about his late husband. He shook his head, knowing she was a stranger and probably would never be with him due to their differences, yet it didn’t stop him from hoping to see her once again.
10 notes · View notes
lazarus-harp · 5 months
Note
matthew and teala, in a platonic way ofc! but throughout season three teala ALWAYS had matthew her first choice when she needed someone to team up with, she always gravitated toward him during the group discussions, and she had the most trust for him while matthew was really the only one who paid attention to her when she spoke, he always made sure he got some of her input during group discussion, and in episode 4 he says that he was scared to vote someone in, my personal headcanon is that in episode 2 matthew purposely lost against safiya to save tealas life bc mere seconds after jc dies he runs to teala to make sure shes okay, and on a GTlive episode teala said that bts of etn matthew was the only one who liked it when rambled about something and that she saw him like a dad and he saw her like a daughter. anyways enough with my rambling i am the number one meala stan and take this playlist on your way out!
oh mat & teala is so near and dear to me! i was beyond pleased to see this ramble about them in my inbox, plus a playlist? cannot thank you enough <3 what a treat! it's been a while since i've talked about them on here i think, but before i came around to mrs i was very much a mat/teala truther haha. she reigned as my favorite detective friendship for a solid year, to the point that i was shocked when i came into the fandom and saw how little others acknowledged it. you've touched on everything already but if i may ramble as well for a brief second ...
teala always choosing matthew will never not be absolutely crazy to me. at first glance, it makes sense, who wouldn't choose him? he's the detective, he's smart and stupidly charming, has a reputation for being capable and well liked -- everything teala is not. she doesn't know him, like jc and mostly everyone else there, but he looks and acts and seems like the kind of stranger who can do the impossible. so, naturally, she wants him! but then comes the fourth episode where she's team captain ( ironic, really, given how she's who everyone rallies against ) and, like before, her first choice is mat and she gets him. now, i need everyone to take a moment and remember that the only reason our beloved super spy still breathes is because mat failed a challenge. one that cost the person who also trusted him their life. to anyone, this would heavily impact their previous views on his skills, and elevate safiya's ... but not teala lol. the fact she chooses mat in a heartbeat over the very girl who gave her all to save her? it's, um, telling! this moment is actually one of my favorites to bring up to others when i try explaining the amount of power the detective holds with people, because you just don't see this in etn, or really anywhere. back to my girl though ; it's abundantly obvious mat couldn't do wrong in her eyes, because he's one of the only people who doesn't want her to die. as early as episode two during the voting scene, we see and hear matthew tell teala her name's being tossed around a lot. he's warning her. preparing her just in case. it's a kindness nobody else bothers to give her, and they hardly know each other at all. i think the detective has a fondness for the underdog types, for people deemed useless or easily bullied ; in part because it feels wrong, but i wouldn't be surprised if mat also enjoyed being the 'superior' or 'savior' in a dynamic. you know, the smarter one and all that. yet no matter his reasoning, his instincts, he came to really like teala, even during scenes where he seemed frustrated with her.
ep4 is a moment, because i wholeheartedly believe mat would've never voted teala had his hand not been forced. he put in jc and nikita despite the easy way out being presented countless times. he just refused to let teala be his personal scapegoat -- so to see him have no other choice in the man with no name episode is quite saddening. he couldn't vote safiya when she'd been nothing but useful, and he could never vote rosanna or himself ... there just wasn't another choice. people might think mat's borderline manic glee when rosanna returns is proof that he didn't care much for teala but i mean. ro is his best friend, the girl he's practically stitched to his side, was he supposed to not be overwhelmed with joy that she was the one who made it back? nikita has the same reaction in ep5 when manny makes it and we know ( considering the hug ) that this didn't mean she hated mat. best friends are just a whole other playing field honestly. matthew wouldn't want anything else, but i do believe this outcome hurt. there's this raw anger and pain vibrating off of him the second the girls' names are called, all tense and shoving his face in his hands, and it's a type of hurt we don't see from him often. sure, could just be that ro's going in, but it could also be because it's ro and teala specifically. all his attempts at protection, his silly hope that teala might keep pulling through, only for that to mean nothing in the end. mat seemed resigned to the act of pulling teala's dead weight to the finish line, but i don't think she was ever going to let him. for all her naivety and struggles teala knew she wasn't wanted and knew she wasn't capable, so while she wouldn't just roll over and die, she wasn't going to try to stick around. it's why her words to defend herself in that last voting session are blunt, honest, and defeated. ahhh ... what a tragedy! just feels like mat's heart broke in that moment, a little bit. and it's soooo telling that rosanna was sent in for those same reasons ; aka seeming defeated and not having a 'fire' in her like everyone else. how can people not notice s3's fave male totally has a type in girls?
also as for your personal hc i gotta say this has always sorta been my view on what happened too. it's no secret i heavily have my foot in the 'mat was jealous of jc and scared of being one-upped by him' theory ... leaving me to believe he'd rather teala survive instead of the hippie. of course there's more nuance and complicated, messy emotions to this as well! for mat things are never easy and clean cut. there were many things at stake here : proving himself to be as good of an opponent as everyone thought he was, that knee jerk want to save teala, that fresh guilt of dooming jc, the fact the very person he was envious of admired him greatly, and it's too much to handle. my interpretation of everything is that at first matthew was dragging his feet, was unsure of what he really wanted, and was pretty ready to let jc die for teala's sake during the hot dog part. but the public humiliation of it all, having everyone look at him with doubt, changed his mind for a brief second ... he needed to prove himself, he needed to redeem his losses, but even then that fight isn't really in him. not in the same way we see in ep5 and ep8, where he fights more fiercely for his own life. did mat wish death on jc? no. will he feel guilty and wrong for his death until the end of time? yes. but is some part of him glad teala made it, at least in that moment? absolutely. the detective loves rationalizing things to himself too, so i wouldn't be shocked if after everything he leaned into the 'i did it for teala' narrative hard. a way to justify his loss, his incompetency, the blood on his hands. and again, a part of that is true, just as much as it isn't. anyway! this sort of view on ep2 is exactly the reasoning for why this pin is on the detective's board. it's referring to that hc :
Tumblr media
ahem! god i definitely rambled for a lot longer than a second, but this ask awakened my passion for this dynamic. the gtlive collab episode was adorable in every way -- as well as shocking, because wow, is irl teala staunchly different compared to the character she portrayed. she is not shy at all, instead being very loud and perverse, which was a fun surprise. i guess my conclusion here is that i love these two platonically, that's my favorite read of them, though i've dabbled in them romantically before too and didn't hate it. could see in a normal 70s au teala having this shallow crush on him ... getting flustered around him because he's nice, smart, handsome, and likes her for what she thinks is no reason. less about actually having those feelings and more so being naturally drawn to the perceived safety his presence provides. though if teala ever came into herself more she'd probably find attraction elsewhere, since at her core she only adores matthew as a friend and a safety room, so to speak. either way! this dynamic deserves more appreciation than it gets! it's practically buried under all its potential. would love to see this talked about more or written into more fics, but we'll see!
#abandoned carnival rides - ( s3 )#confessional - ( personal )#escape the night#tagging it as that since y'know what we did an analysis together! so main tag it goes#anyway thank you thank you thank you for this ask!!! what an absolute delight! then again all your asks usually are haha#and all my thanks for the playlist. i already love it!!#i didn't have anywhere to put this in the post but i also adore how their roles both involve the law or government to a degree#makes me feel like they'd be close in a 70s au because of it. same idea with the disco dancer and the record producer because c'mon?#both are very musically inclined talents lol#i just find roles that match v fun!#ok i'll hush now but WOO! keep the mat ships coming folks this was a great one#tw long post#( sidenote : i know mat breezes through the first obstacles in ep2 so that might not LOOK like dragging his feet#but those obstacles were ridiculously easy to him and i think he was just going on instinct rather than thought during it#it's during the hot dog thing where he finally see him really struggle and forced to just. stand there and get laughed at and mocked#and he so clearly teeters between wanting to give up there or win. like his mental state is bad during that part#but i think in the end he impulsively choose to keep going. weakly wanted to prove himself -- and save jc i guess lol#if that makes ANY sense#regardless it's either he dragged his feet at first or in those last seconds! could be switched but i stand by that idea anyway#him dragging his feet because he isnt sure what to do or what he wants from this. etc. yeah! )
9 notes · View notes
invisibleraven · 8 months
Note
Compliments! Your smile lights up a room, sweet tarts
"Alright people, pleaces please!" the PA called out, and Carrie took in one last deep breath before she struck her pose. Modelling wasn't the top of her list for life ambitions, but it paid the bills, and it was only until she could get Dirty Candi their record deal.
Plus, well, it did come with some perks. The free clothes and swag was always nice, and it wasn't like she minded all the attention.
But it was the cute photographer that kept getting assigned to her shoots that she really liked.
Reggie had been the one to shoot her first campaign; a fall ad for GAP that was shot on the hottest day of summer, with her frolicking in fake leafs all bundled in wool and tweed. But he brought something out in her, and that first shot was what netted her job after job.
"Come on Carrie, let's see those pearly whites!" he called. "You smile lights up a room doll, so let 'em see it!"
Carrie giggled despite herself and smiled all the wider, circulating through the crowd for the Dior ad, wearing a dress that made her feel like a million bucks. Quite an upgrade from the GAP anyways.
Snap after snap, pose after pose, Carrie kept smiling, letting her mind drift to when all this would be a funny anecdote she told people. When she had her name in lights due to her talent and not just her looks.
"Alright, everyone, we're going to change lenses and readjust the lighting, so take 5!" the PA called out.
Carrie sighed, letting her posture slump, and kicked off the awful pinchy shoes. Those she would donate if they offered them to her, make no mistake.
"Great job doll," Reggie said, offering her a water bottle.
"Thanks," she said, sipping at it delicately, not wanting to have to do much make up adjustment. "You booked to do the Vogue shoot next month too?"
"Alas I have a conference with National Geographic then, so I think you'll have to put up with Brett for that one," Reggie said apologetically.
Carrie wrinkled her nose. Brett was alright, but he didn't have Reggie's skill and he always smelled vaguely homeless (and high). "Wait, National Geographic?"
"Yeah, I do more than ads you know, I contain multitudes," Reggie sassed. "But honestly I did one of those genetic tester kits and found out I'm like 3% Ashkenazi Jewish, so I did a photo essay on rediscovering my roots."
"You're Jewish?" Carrie clarified.
"Non-practicing," Reggie said with a half shrug. "Unless my MeeMaw is visiting."
"That project sounds so cool. My dad always said he wanted to do something similar to go find his roots in the Philippines," Carrie said wistfully, and when Reggie sent her an odd look she grinned. "I'm adopted."
"Oh cool, so am I!" Reggie exclaimed. "My parents weren't the best kind of people, and my grandparents weren't equipped to handle a teenager, so my friend Julie and her family took her in. Ray Molina is the best dad a guy could ask for, he's the one who got me into photography."
"Wait... your dad is Ray Molina?" Carrie clarified. "Dad to superstar Julie Molina?"
"I mean, yeah?"
"I would kill to meet her. See if she has tips on getting signed. Also ask for embarrassing Reggie stories," Carrie gushed.
Reggie blushed. "Well next time she's in town I'll introduce you."
"Places!"
"Maybe after the shoot I could even tell you some of those stories myself?" Reggie offered. "Over pizza and beer if you're allowed?"
"I am owed a cheat day," Carrie hummed. "Sounds perfect."
With that she kissed his cheek and dashed off to fix her lipstick and take her place. And there was no need to fake her smile while she was facing the camera. Especially not with Reggie's equally blinding one looking right back at her.
9 notes · View notes
casketscratch · 3 months
Text
The neglect is so hard to come to terms with.
TWs for child abuse, trafficking mentions, alter talk, neglect, general spewing about it all, etc.
The neglect has been so hard to accept.
My mom divorced my bio dad when I was, what, 2 or 3? (Unfortunately, the abuse had started by then already, and every weekend he would take my sister and me to visit his parents, so that old lie I used to tell myself about how my dad was harmless really died a harsh death).
I grew up in a house with my mom, sister, maternal grandparents, sometimes an aunt, and my grandma babysat the neighbourhood's kids after school. She mostly paid attention to them.
I don't think anyone ever watched me. I think it was very easy for me to wander away from home. And I wanted to, often, because my maternal grandparents were abusive anyway. A lot of hiding in closets hoping not to be found. A lot of being hit and scared. So I spent a lot of time outside, just... roaming.
My mom was never around. I don't remember ever seeing her before school, and she would always get home late -- she was working and going to school. She just doesn't figure into my memory during that period at all, and she only shows up after she moved me and my sister into an apartment when I was 10 or 11. I remember everyone else, but my mom was mostly someone I saw in the evening and before bed.
My mom is convinced I was always home, never left the place, and couldn't have gotten up to much. My sister disagrees, she remembers a lot of the same things I do and the shit we'd get up to, so I have that confirmation. I was almost never home. I was almost always at someone else's place.
All the fucking time. And it made it so easy for... I don't know how to word this, I'm really struggling. I hate saying "for me to be preyed on" or something, but if the adults in my life were predators, then that's what fits, doesn't it? Prey.
I tried to run away from home so often, and when I brought this up with my mom, in a haha, remember when? way, she had no idea. Thought I'd just been kidding around, or something. The first time I always remembered (in that snapshot, crystal clear flashbulb way that always seems to mean Something Happened for us), I was 3 or 4 years old. I just walked out the front door and was determined to find a new family, or a pack of wolves to live with maybe, that'd've been fine! I didn't get far before a neighbour brought me back home. I was...
I typed "furious." I don't remember being furious. I remember being confused because I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there, and I was lost and scared suddenly. (Sometimes I write something and have to go like, oh, wow, Sacha was right, we really do have that DID-ass kind of DID.)
And I remember my aunt finding me in the ravine one night, years later, hiding under the leaves. She had her dog with her--one of those big fluffy german dogs she used in Search and Rescue. Finding me was a cakewalk. She promised to lie for me when we got home so I wouldn't get in trouble for getting lost, but I was trying to run away that time too. I don't remember how I got there, or why I was hiding.
I know my mom is just being defensive and really, I am not out to convince her of anything. She'll accept what she can, and I don't want to fight for the rest. But...
Where the fuck were the adults? Why was I allowed to spend so much time in other people's, other adults homes? My grandma was so busy watching every other kid in her "dayhome" that I went ignored. Any complaint I had, any injury, I was told I was lazy or bored or making it up for attention.
At some point I was so physically hurt I couldn't move off the couch and all she said was "growing pains" while finally offering me a heating pack. I was five, six years old. She's such a sweet old lady until... that stuff comes up. Anything about pain, it's like I wasn't allowed to be hurt in her eyes.
I always thought growing up in my grandparent's house wasn't so bad. But... the hiding in closets, the running away all the time, the screaming, the fear I felt just being home because someone would find some reason to lash out at me. Or ignore me, which was worse, because I'd start feeling like I wasn't real.
Why was I the only one around to care about me? Why did I do such a fucking bad job of it? If my dad hadn't hurt us first, would we have been able to stand up for ourselves? To do something other than forget all about it and do it again the next day?
The number one question I hear from people is always how my mom couldn't have known what was going on, but it's right there, isn't it. The answer's been the same all along. She wasn't there to see it. She didn't even have to pretend not to see it because she just was not there.
I guess I should be kinder to myself. We didn't do a bad job of taking care of us. We got through it alive. (And then there's a jab at the back of my brain about how it continued until 2018, though, so maybe we didn't do a great job!)
It is just a mess of feelings in here tonight.
2 notes · View notes
shallowseeker · 11 months
Text
Okay @minalblood your commentary on Millie has been wonderful to my brain. There’s a line from John in one of the early episodes that seemed throwaway, “Don’t worry. We know it’s all dad’s fault.”
I paid it little attention the first time. But the second time, it kind of blew my mind, because it seems a sarcastic quip and a nod to our tendency to hang all the evils of the world on a a person, whether that’s John Winchester, Lucifer, Chuck. It’s easier to do if the person has already done bad things, because what’s pinning one more thing on them, really?
In SPN prime, Gabriel has a wonderful conversation with Lucifer in 13x22 that basically boils down to, “where do you draw the line against what happened to you and start taking responsibility for your own actions?”
That’s not to say there were no wrongs done by that person, but it’s also not all the wrongs.
///
Lately, there’s been a lot of chatter that Sam has a tendency to “perform helplessness” or else he shifts his choices to others in order to avoid accountability. Dean and Cas do the, “I’m doing this for you / because of you” more often, in lieu of admitting they’re motivated by their own emotions.
(And I mean, we all have done this. Being responsible for something bad sucks. Being wrong sucks. Admitting our true motivations can suck.)
Anyway, thanks for making me reconsider Millie. She’s complicated! She’s the one who stayed, but she’s a flawed human being, too!
11 notes · View notes
hungeringheart · 6 months
Note
How do you think a Sylph of Doom would affect the session? Like how would the aspect of doom be broken in the session in order for the Sylph to heal it? Would it be like a lack of rules/system in the game or would it affect the players fate? Sorry if this is a confusing question/if it's worded badly
This all really depends on what you as a writer want to do with your story. The class list is dyadic, sure, but people organize their dyads differently (heir-witch? heir-page? mage-witch? mage-seer? sylph-witch? sylph-maid? knight-sylph? over the years the fandom has persuasively argued for any of these).
That being said, you asked what I think! So here's what I think. This can be considered my analysis post for Sylphs and Doom :)
Tumblr media
When I was a small girl, I walked through the market
Holding my dad's hand, mitten in gloved hand
At night there were roses, lit up in glass boxes
The heat lamps would keep them from freezing in winter
We never bought them, but somebody must have
Maybe they made it, or maybe they froze up
Before any person had put them in water
And hoped that they'd still be alive by the morning
- Sellers of Flowers (Regina Spektor)
What's a Sylph, anyway?
The fandom consensus seems to be that sylphs heal in some way, or offer other mysterious fae magical assistance. We don't know more than that and what Kanaya sort of facetiously says once, which is that a Sylph is "sort of like a Witch but more magical". Does she mean that? Does she mean that they're nothing alike?
In the end it's your own call what your Sylphs do, and I think you have to define that explicitly for your own fansession.
In my case, I never paid any attention to sylphs at all until someone who was too emotionally dependent on me assigned me Sylph of Heart, and I got so offended (for lack of a better word) that I fell into a research hole and never emerged.
That's coloured my personal interpretation of the class, which is that they're something like a maid but more remote, and something like a witch but more remote, and something like a mage but less remote, and something like a page but less remote.
I think sylphs are... well, ok, let's digress and travel in time for a moment.
You know about Joseph Campbell's hero's journey, a survey of (a limited set of) folklore that uncovered some archetypes that have since this time plagued psychologists with pseudoscience and folklorists with dubious methodology.
You may not know that all this had such a stranglehold on the world that people took it fully seriously as a way for a man to realize himself, in a way presaging the current manosphere. But then that begs the question, what about women?
Enter Maureen Murdock, a student of Campbell's who asked him if women could also have heroic journeys of actualization, and was met with a dumbfounded look out of eyes that had never thought women might need to develop at all.
Well no, said Campbell, women are the thing men are striving to be worthy of. Why would they need to mature?
So of course then in her work as a therapist (working mostly again with the certain type of women drawn to her practice), Murdock identified a common path towards women (in her own, American culture and ones like it) feeling like whole people. Mostly it's about a process of trying to figure out what a woman is, a real flesh and blood breathing woman, and how to be and do that in women's way; there is unfortunate and dated secondwavey phrasing, but it's a solid thing all told.
For a time this has floated around as a kind of Heroine's Journey. It never attempted to actually be folkloristics, and as psychology it suffered at first from the "Undergrad Students Desperate For Study Payments On One Specific Homogeneous Campus Have Really Fucked Lives, More At 11" thing, which also gave us the false idea that absolutely everyone fantasizes about being violated.
But it has a point: for a woman in a patriarchy (which, to return to Homestuck, is allegorized by the female-centric, but still reproductively oppressive society which Kanaya and Porrim are vital to, but readable as marginalized in) to figure out who she is, she has to figure out what a woman is, in a context without much of value to say on the issue. She has to go through sort of an attempt to become other things, things other people want from her, and then eventually find herself.
Personally this is not my culture or my take on womanhood in real life, but at this point we are talking about interpreting Homestuck through the culture that produced Andrew Hussie, and I think it's useful for classpecting purposes.
To me a Sylph is kind of a response to this. I don't want to get into authorial intent because no one can know about that, but in real life a sylph is sort of an amorphous, ageless, healing, positive elemental spirit. So then a Homestuck Sylph is always a player in a social role of their society that corresponds to that - passive, mysticized, anodyne. Mysterious, but not because there needs to be much there. Mysterious because it's irrelevant to the other heroes' journey, which the sylph is led to believe they're there to support.
Morgan Le Fay. The Lady of the Lake on her magical island. Vasilissa the Wise. Ninian, one supposes. Even Kanaya in her fertility-focused mystery cult. All those lovely flat marriageable wise jinni princesses.
Our two canon sylphs are Kanaya - obviously - and Aranea, whose narrative role is to help everyone mystically see and do a bunch of shit they need to, enable things to happen that ought to happen, and not particularly actively do anything else. But do they actually have to stay in that role, or is the point to transcend its limitations and come into one's own?
I would argue that it is, and that we can see that through the character of Porrim, who after all is sort of a parody of and response to the early fan response to Kanaya. We can also see it through the visceral imagery of how Kanaya saves the species (by killing her virgin mother-sister and extracting her womb/ootheca/budding clone).
So then: yes, sylphs heal or fix others and their fuck ups and life situations, but they also heal themselves and their world and their society's relation to the world. Their mystic function can be argued as something like restoring or finding balance, not necessarily the outcome their party wants or thinks it needs. In that way they might also be read as related to Pages, who go through the same journey of being everything but themselves but for the other binary gender.
Of course gender isn't really the important variable here, it's societal position -- your own sylph's journey can be about whatever you want, as long as it involves dealing with and negotiating the sort of mystic pedestal that people put them on for whatever reason.
That's what I think a Sylph is. They create, repair and preserve the appropriate amount of their aspect for the good of their group, but not because they're "only" good for that or "meant" to do it or somehow "ethereal creatures of [Aspect]" - just because it's necessary, because their aspect is out of balance, because someone has to look at it differently.
I have a fuchsia sylph (of hope) in an unfinished fanwork, Matsya, who might also be instructive as to sylphage and sylphing and so on; in that fanon trolls have a bit more obviously insectile biology, and Matsya is a laying worker, a "mutation" which is normally treated badly in a no longer hive-based society that got this way by chattelizing its queen morph.
But her position (as a queen, the feudal position, in the empire currently run by her biological aunt) gives her breathing room to think about it instead of being bioengineered into the "correct" morph or blacklisted from work appropriate to her caste, and the tension of having that breathing room and no idea what it's really like for others puts her into conflict with others in the setting. The point then isn't necessarily that a sylph Must be marginalized, but that the sylph has to be forced to confront the way that their society runs, react to it, and work to somehow "heal" the problem. Healing bodies and (or) minds can be a component of that -- Matsya for instance can passively inspire people, and insofar as she heals anyone before her gtier powers kick on, it's because all animals can heal themselves better when they don't feel pain and fear. But a Sylph of Rage would nurture and encourage or at least inspire something totally different - and in this way, a Sylph is like an active Muse.
Matsya accomplishes this in a way that restores Hope for a future (by integrating helpful ritual and mystic concepts from the past to serve the present), Kanaya does all this in canon for the aspect of Space by rescuing her species' potential and physical existence, and Aranea I think initially fails to do much more than literally helping Terezi see things because she's too busy playing Captain Save-a-Hoe to think of her role as fixing things in the world, in addition to problems in people.
Aranea's realization as a Sylph is too late for her party (and would probably have mostly benefited her anyway, as her aspect was Light - which is most directly luck, and she was by then working kind of blackhat hackerishly), but I think it comes at some point on the timeline tangential to Act 6, when she appears to be creating and manipulating circumstances and societal constants and understandings to get the Ring of Life (such as by putting John to sleep with her cerulean powers so that he can beat Tavros to it).
But anyhow, that's what I think a Sylph is -- someone who works with and resolves what they're given, in a somewhat more holistic and less servile way than a Maid -- insofar as I write Sylphs any particular way. As always, your mileage may vary.
Tumblr media
Who's the winner?
Not the roses,
Not the buyers, not the sellers,
Not the tellers of the stories,
Not the fathers, not their children.
Not those walking on a dark night
Through a memory they're forgetting.
Who's the winner?
Who's the winner?
Maybe winter, maybe winter...
I like this, what about the aspect of Doom?
Doom is straightforwardly about Law, but not in the cyclic sense of Time - in the linear sense of the wyrd of Norse sagas. Inevitable things, death, endings, suffering, decay. But also the emergence of order, through restriction; the imposition of law, Law and Law (the difference is like the difference between the law that makes jaywalking a crime in the USA, sharia, and the law of gravity). In a way, the yin to life's yang -- the antithesis of struggle, striving, flourishing and self-definition, but equally concerned with the way of things. And uniquely concerned with justice; doom is the aspect that governs and introduces the Just and Heroic Death rule, after all.
In the Slavic languages (famously very fatalistic) and in Yiddish there are words that reflect something I think is good to know about Doom and inevitable things; sudba, a neutral word for destiny meaning the thing judged for you, and mazal, both one of a canonical set of lucky stars and luck or fortune as derived from your birth underneath them. People use these words somewhat fatalistically, as in, you miss a shot or lose money to a casino and you say, oh, well it wasn't destined anyway, or oh, my lucky star is off duty tonight I guess. And then you go on with your life, because it's not always all going to be death doom suffering peril death doom death, even if you think it is. Usually something good happens afterward and you remember that your deity or force of choice isn't always completely drunk, just a lot of the time -- and that it does still have to look out for you occasionally.
A Doom player doesn't necessarily need to be dark or unpersonable (my fankid Eden and her uncle Yoel, also a Doom player in a different timeline, aren't, and neither are canon's Sollux and Mituna) -- they just need to have a character arc resolving around some relation to inevitability, law, decline and decay. None of these are necessarily bad things, though Sollux's case might reflect manifestations that are! Inevitability is part of the way of things, and decay, as the Tumblr lore goes, exists as an extant form of life.
And both together now:
In a sylph's case, because their role is to generate, maintain, resolve, repair and re-examine their aspect, yes, the Doom of their session is probably somehow flawed -- or maybe there's a lack of Doom, altogether, and they need to be the one to direct and contextualize the team. The sylph's personal life and journey is probably strongly tied in with beliefs about law and destiny and (by extension) belonging, meaning and social thought -- they could be pathologically unlucky, they could just be a person who believes in justice in a broken system. My partner's Heir of Doom, Aryyeh, has an inversion of this arc where he's placed to uphold and perpetuate damaged systems, but has to grow into someone who can do something about it - Heir of Doom (future perpetrator of crimes against trollkind) to Heir of Doom (worthy instrument of a new and kinder Law).
Either Doom or the Sylph's relation to Doom or both are unhealthy, and in the spirit of their classpect, they're meant to dial down and take things slow and thoughtfully. And of course, maybe they were born to and moulded by it... but I think their bigger concern is that their session itself might be doomed from the get-go. Don't you? ;)
6 notes · View notes
heyitssashag · 1 year
Text
It was my Mom’s birthday, today. So lucky to have her as my Mom; she’s a pretty amazing Mother and human being. Kind, compassionate, hardworking, generous and my role model. ❤️ I think she had a nice birthday. Unfortunately, my step-Dad and I got her the same gift so I’ll be returning mine and getting her something else. 🤣 Great minds think alike, I guess.
I had my first day of online training with the Master Trainer program for Self Management. I had a headache by the end. Three hours on Zoom feels so long now. I lived on Zoom over the pandemic. Now, I’ve been avoiding it like the plague. So when I have to go on longer than an hour, it feels like a lot. I’ve got 2 more weeks to go.
My jaw pain hasn’t been as bad since I’ve stopped wearing the night guard. Unfortunately, it’s not so great on my teeth. I know I’m clenching and grinding the shit out of them when I’m sleeping. So, I may have to get a new one. I don’t think this one has ever fit me properly and it’s screwing with my TMJ which is incredibly frustrating and pisses me off. Total waste of money and I can’t go back to the original dentist who made it for me because they’re too far and it’s been over a year. So angry. I’ve got another dentist appointment next week so I’ll be asking for a quote on that.
I’m getting slightly annoyed with Tumblr ads. They’re getting super aggressive with stacking 3 or 4, one after another. How dare they slightly inconvenience me while I use their free service.😜 I was considering paying to go ad-free but I already got sucked into their Twitter joke and paid $10 for the damn double checkmarks. (Looking forward to crabs 🦀 🦀 one day. 😂)
A friend of mine texted me today for tips on the easiest way of getting an autism assessment for their child who is 17. It was recommended by their school counsellor. I wasn’t quite sure what they meant so I asked for clarification. This is what they wrote:
The easiest fastest way to get an assessment without having to waste time with pointless bureaucracy bullshit that you may have noticed were a waste of time.
I told them to pay for one. They’re around $3500.
Unfortunately, the entire autism assessment process is bureaucratic. It’s also very unfair and exhausting. If the child is displaying very obvious symptoms/delays/behaviour then it may be easier or quicker (but I can’t attest to this). If the child has symptoms but are not “typical” to what is seen on the spectrum, it can take a lot more time. Average wait is pushing two years. When the child is nearing adulthood, it’s a waste of time to pursue it because they’ll age-out before they get one. In this situation, (for my friend), I recommended requesting a psych-ed assessment from the school as an alternative if they’re looking for insight into supports going into college (or high school upgrading). I also highly recommend checking out the Autism BC website which is a great resource. My friend didn’t message back so I suspect they didn’t like my answer. lol. Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to get one without jumping through hoops unless you’ve got a fist full of cash. It sucks, but it is what it is. Looking back, I really wished I’d just found a way to pay for it. It would’ve saved me a lot of stress. In turn, my kid could have gotten supports a lot sooner and I would’ve been able to focus my attention on other important things. Anyway, hindsight is always 20/20.
The kid and I went for a short walk before sunset.
Tumblr media
My parents ordered in Chinese food and got a cake. I also watched a few more episodes of “That 90’s Show” on Netflix. Gotta say… it’s terrible. Red and Kitty are awesome but the rest of them stink. No chemistry within the cast, whatsoever. The writing is horrendous. I keep watching it because I need something else mindless to glue myself to before bed (that’s not Friends. 😂) At this point, I’d be very surprised if there’s going to be a second season. Very disappointed but whatever. I guess it’s a little fun to see the old characters doing cameos. I need another mindless show to binge watch when I’m done this one.
Next month I get to make the book choices for the club to read. I usually give 3 or 4 options. This time I’m only giving 2 because it never fails, they always pick the one that I’m the least interested in. 🙄
Tumblr media
Both are Canadian writers. I’ve already read the Matthew Perry one which was pretty good. Alias Grace is on my “to read” list so I don’t mind at all if they choose that one. Margaret Atwood is a phenomenal writer.
Anyway, CT scan is on the agenda, tomorrow. I started off just wanted to write a super short update on here and it turned into this novel. lol. I think I have a problem with that. So now, for your random gif. ⬇️
Tumblr media
2 notes · View notes
noro-noro-noro · 1 year
Text
don't remember much about what happened in my dream but I've been too lazy to write them down for the past week so we are reversing that hardcore mode
anyway, I was reading a book in school. it had some illustrations that were pretty neat - remember one that was earlier on that was of all these muscular woman taking a dip in the river. the back muscles were really nice... anyway this was the first book of a series that I'd read before supposedly but I closed the book at one part to pay attention to smth and when I opened the book again the part I was at was gone. there were a bunch of random pieces of paper with notes on that I'd shoved in but none of them were actually where I'd left off, and when I skimmed through the book several times I straight up couldn't find the spot where I'd left off at all.
some kind of side interlude bc I woke up bc my sister called my dad?? no idea why that got me bc usually the phone ringing from downstairs doesn't wake.me.up. anyway it was like playing Memoir Text Adventure where you're in there & you approach the old computer to play the game, except now it was an actual rpg instead of randomly choosing events. I picked some kind of brown archer and threw all my points into damage so I had like one arrow that could kill anything. the game didn't like this. it shut off & I saw someone in the reflection behind me & they stabbed me in the back before I could react. incidentally they stabbed me in the spot where my back has been hurting since yesterday (I slouched really bad while doing the puzzle with my sister) ALSO I LOOKED IN THE MIRROR THIS MORNING AND I ACTUALLY HAVE A CUT ON MY BACK????? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???? THE DREAM?????
anyway cut back to the main ? dream. I was now on the bus home getting picked up by my dad at the bus stop that I'd usually gwt off at to go to my mom's house. my book fell out the window somehow & I was like oh the bus moves so slowly that I can just jump off and grab it & get back on. as soon as I jumped off the bus incrwased in speed & disappeared around the corner & I was like well shit. I'll stand at the intersection that I'm.prerty sure the friver goes thru bc my.bookbag is still on there.... and fortunately she did go atounf that way. she also noticed that I'd disappeared when I'd left and wanted to make sure I got all my stuff back, which was super nie in the dream and also extremely out of character bc every single bus driver is not paid enough to deal with morenthan 5 sevonds off schedule before they get angry and mad.
1 note · View note
Thanks, I appreciate the response. Also for the record this ask can wait a couple days till you've had time to rest and unwind and get into a better place. Like no harm will come from a delayed response, I'm doing my version of fine today and even at my lowest I'm really not in danger
Like just to be clear, the nice thing about text is it can wait, and this is very long. Without any self sacrificing nonsense I'm saying it can wait. Get yourself into a good space, once you're in that space look after your actual patients first, I'm alright and can wait and won't be hurt by waiting
Also just wanted to say that if you ever want I'm totally happy to come off anon and chat. I can't do anything specific, but I can listen and hopefully validate and at kind of seem like I actually heard. It's really just active listening stuff, but I'd be happy to do that and prefer it to talking about what's on my mind
If you do want to take me up on that offer, it doesn't have to wait till you've responded to this
Anyway, hope you have a nice day
That said... hmm... I guess this takes a bit of backstory so I'll try to make it quick
I don't have a job, never managed to get one, just volunteering stuff. I did however get a bit of inheritance from a great aunt which I managed to leverage into the last affordable house in this state. $90k and my dream home, but that's part of why I'm 50 miles from everything. I don't mind it cause I never went out anyway, but that's how you afford a house these days
I've never had a good relationship with my mom for a lot of reasons, but I ended up having to let her move in with me just cause she cost me too much when left alone (like the time I had to scrape together $6k to pay off a payday loan). So it works, and like bills are paid with the disability I helped her get on, but there's a lot of negative past emotions at work here
Almost to what I actually want to talk about
So I drink gallon mason jars of tea. Water out here kind of sucks, leave a tea bag in the water kind of processes it for me. I'm upstairs, my mom's downstairs, and she doesn't do anything at all around the house except cooking and dishes. We have an agreement where she'll refill one of my 2 jars with tea and stick it in the fridge
Well if ever both jars are empty at the same time she has a melt down about what a horrible person she is. I don't make a big deal about it, but she makes a huge deal out of it. I can never bring up any problems I ever have cause she'll have a melt down, and even this I have to worry that if she didn't fill some tea that maybe I just shouldn't drink so much so she doesn't freak out about 2 empty jars
No we get to what I actually wanted to vent about
I tell my friend (same one I mentioned last time) how frustrating this is for me, how it's like if someone tells me something I did wrong, that may make me feel bad, but if I just go "oh I'm a horrible person" it makes me impossible to deal with. Like it just gets frustrating dealing with this
My friend responds with that my mom probably doesn't mean to do this and is just upset and overwhelmed and it's just like...
I mean of course, but also like that doesn't mean you don't hurt people. I try to thank people when they bring a problem to my attention, even if I hate it, just to not be my mom. Just cause I know what it's like to be met with "oh god!"
And like... can anyone ever take my side on anything. Can anyone ever just trust me? Like maybe if my mom weren't my mom and hadn't made it so the idea of family repulses me so bad I can't even be close to my dad who I like, that I'd get a lot of what's going on for her and be sympathetic
I don't know... despite maneuvering this house into existence and being good with money my mom's always second guessing me and treating me like an idiot. Just no one seems to be able to just trust me
I don't know... I like this friend a lot, I care deeply about her. If she ever takes me up on it she'll always have a free room here, cause wanting to help her get out from her parents and be making her own choices is part of what motived me to keep looking for a house even when obviously it looked bleak
I just... I mean I could use some help, I could use someone to come around and teach me all this stuff I'm having to make up for my self like how to clean. I wing it, and I wish I didn't have to, but that seems unlikely
So short of that I just wish people would trust me and... not try and give advice since... hmm... it's hard for me to say this about myself, but frankly if I showed you the cleaning I did on my mom's trailer and then you take managing to get a house, I move at an ent's pace, but I'm kind of a miracle worker in the long run
When I don't listen to expectations and do things my way, they work out really well. I take other people's thoughts into consideration (my grandpa was always scripting for people and I saw how crazy it made him), hell this house was something my mom suggested we look at when I was saying maybe we needed to move to a cheaper state, but like... I have a better grasp on things than people treat me like I have
Just get tired... I'm always saying to people when I listen to them, I'll slip in that I think they're doing a good job, that I think they're valuable, that they matter
Aside from just being "nice"... I don't know, no one says that stuff to me. I'm nice, and once an optometrist's assistant said I had nice eyes (I assume structurally, cause she had someone else come look at them through one of their gadgets)
I just want to be treated like I'm wanted. I just want to be treated like I'm trusted. A lot of this, if I told you why I don't get along with my mom, I think it's more or less textbook neglect symptoms I have. I wish people would trust me on my mental health too
I wish people would work with me. I wish they'd communicate what they want. That friend who has the room her if she wants it, for a while she was talking about just booking a ticket and getting away from her parents, but then I never heard about it again and I don't know why. If I knew why maybe I could do something to accommodate, but no one communicates with me
I don't know... doesn't matter. I'm slowly almost coping enough to get myself to do the tasks I want done, though I'm still bad at it. I've got one last bit of cleaning left before I move onto stage 2. It's been months, it's just so overwhelming I can't work on it or... something... don't know why I can't do things, but I've almost fixed it
None of it really matters, history shows I'll make it work, history shows my emotions don't really matter. I will probably build myself a good life
I'll just be totally alone and proved right that I'm unlovable, and be even more bitter than I am now (which sounds so miserable and I'd rather die), but just like now I'll do everything I can to avoid letting that bitterness show and venting it on people
...I'm not sure that there was a point to this, but there it is. I'm still thinking about the whole telling you where I am, mostly because my webcam/mic set up is janky and I worry I'd be too anxious to actually talk to someone using it, too embarassed
Sorry for the ungodly amount of words. I always talk too much once I start talking
The offer to listen is sincere and on the table, and I can promise zero judgement on whatever you might say. I don't know... hopefully you took my advice and waited to read this till you were doing better
Take care
I think a lot of people assume that when someone vents to them about what another person is doing that's hurtful, it's because they haven't yet considered why the other person might be doing those things.
But for a lot of us, other people's motivations and machinations are literally All We Think About. So there's no comfort in being told "she's probably just overwhelmed and doesn't mean it" because OF COURSE that's probably true and the problem isn't that you are unaware of this, it's that when YOU'RE overwhelmed and say something you don't mean, suddenly all the compassion about "well consider it from their point of view" goes out the window. It starts to feel like there is no right way for you to exist, only ways that will draw slightly less attention (and therefore slightly less harm) from the people around you. Which is a shitty, miserable way to live. And it's really nice when you have someone in your life who just....doesn't assume you're venting because you haven't considered the other person's perspective? Sometimes intent is fucking irrelevant and what I need to comfort myself is not an assurance that the other person "didn't mean it" but an acknowledgement that yeah it fucking sucks to deal with this, especially when I put SO MUCH EFFORT into being kind and gentle and accommodating and supportive even when I am just spitting mad.
I'm actually doing a lot better! Thank you for your attention to how I might internalize or cope with your ask, it's very kind of you to reassure me that there's no rush to respond. I like text based communication for the same reasons you described. No pressure to respond quickly means being able to formulate and think, which is great especially as someone who struggles with both of my native tongues. It also means that the messages that ultimately get sent are more meaningful and connected for me, which I really like, not to mention circumnavigating the auditory processing disorder.
I hope you do come off anon someday and chat because you seem like a lovely person, and while I'm not in dire need of someone to talk to about my problems at this point in my life, I do really enjoy rattling on in excessive detail about irrelevant things, and hearing others do the same.
I do try to be really careful about offering my own ear to others, because I know that as a therapist it can be tough for me to turn off clinical mode while listening, but if you don't mind gently nudging me when I've done so too much, I'd love to be a part of your system of support.
2 notes · View notes
dirtthornberry · 10 months
Text
To all the people I’ve loved:
👩🏻 I love you. I don’t know why you hurt me but I know why you hurt me. You were a wonderful parent but a not-so-great mother. I was a difficult kid but I was a traumatized child. You were a stretched-thin mom but you were a naive adult. You taught me to stand up for myself and what I think is right, even if it was against you. You taught me that true love isn’t always pretty, but it is unconditional. I love you with it all.
👨🏻‍🦲 I love you the most daddy. I wish you had paid more attention to the important things & not just the little moments. But oh my god were those little moments everything. You were so excited to give me those binoculars & tell me about every bird, plant & bug & I didn’t really care to learn their names but I did for you because you were so happy I was interested. Now I want to know ALL of the names.
👱🏻‍♀️ I never hated you for it but it made it really hard to love you for a while; she did it to you so you didn’t know… I love you so so much now tho. Out of 11 sisters and 8 brothers, you’re the only one I was raised with. 7 years apart & you couldn’t stand me the moment you hit puberty. I ache for all the things that happened to you that weren’t noticed bc either mom & dad didn’t notice or bc I took up all the attention. You didn’t deserve any of the trauma. You never did.
🌊 you were my first best friend. I’m so glad you were placed with me & so grateful my mom would drive me the 45 minutes to come see you once you went back home. Every time I hear Ed Sheeran, I think of you. We’ve drifted apart and are different people now but you’ll always be my sister-from-another-mister. I’m sorry it went this way; Ik it didn’t have to.
👾 I was your first friend when you moved here but now we aren’t friends at all. What changed in those years we weren’t together? What made you so selfish and blind. There’s no question mark because I already know. Your childhood caught up to you in ways I don’t think you don’t even fully understand and you got defensive. I’m sorry but I have to put myself first. Like I said though: I will Always only wish the best for you.
🌸 I didn’t like you at first and I don’t even really know why. I’m so glad you didn’t care. I’m so glad you talked to me anyway. I don’t say this lightly but I probably would’ve ended it several times over if it’d wasn’t for you. I have all the confidence in you that you so sorely lack. I’m so sorry for what has happened to you but I love the person your circumstance produced, flaws and all. I miss you.
🥀 not addressing your trauma won’t heal it but you wouldn’t even know where to start. We’ve suffered from so many of the same things and it breaks my heart that we share the grief. I love that you always get back up & keep going. It’s the thing I admire about you the most. You’ll get there baby, I believe in you.
🍁 I hurt you really bad. You hurt me too. We keep hurting each other. But the love is so sweet. It’s tastes like honey and wine. We had an argument while I was at work that made my stomach churn and an employee told me she’d never thought an fight could be so healthy and honest. That felt so fucking good to hear. I could never have done it without you, I wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. I’m so excited to have the life we’ve talked so much about. 4 years in and I hope we have so many more.
🌿 you’ve come so far. Only we know how much we’ve been through but we’re here now. If I had told you that you’d actually have a pretty solid will to live by the time you turned 20, you would’ve laughed in my face & told me you don’t plan to be here that long. But look at you now!! Assistant Manager, getting paid $17.50 an hour, living in your own place with your own dogs and in the healthiest relationship of any kind you’ve ever been in with a man who loves you with his all. I’d say congrats but I know it’s not over yet and there will be many many hardships to come. Think of all the truly wonderful and amazing things we’re gonna come by too. We became the person we never thought we’d be able to be. I’m so proud.
🐾 for countless lifetimes of love and connection. If I gave you as much as you deserve, there would be no universe for us to exist in. Every single one, a few more closely than others, have saved my life. The entire basis for my will to live. For every single animal I’ve every encountered: Thank you for just existing. I love you.
🫥 I wish everyone else the best of luck. Truthfully. I love you. I might not know you but I’d love you anyway. Please remember to be grateful for all of the things, not just the good or the bad. You are the center of your own universe and I’m your biggest believer. Good luck in your travels. Have the best life.
💛💛💛
1 note · View note
sobsicles · 3 years
Text
claire's not expecting them to be at the door. she blinks at the sight of four men all huddled on the stoop with flowers and what appears to be bags of food flowing from their arms. jack is peeking above a bouquet, beaming at her.
"who's at the door?!" jody calls from the kitchen, her voice muffled by the sound of grease popping and the clanking of pans and spatulas meeting over and over.
"god," claire calls back, because she likes to think she's funny.
there's a beat of silence, and then jody's sticking her head out the kitchen. the moment she sees them, she breaks out into a grin and saunters over, shoving the spatula in claire's hand as she chatters away.
"what's going on out there?" donna asks as claire escapes back to the kitchen to poke at food jody is apparently willing to burn just because the winchesters decided to show their faces today of all days.
"judgement day," claire says dryly.
donna shares a look with patience. "haven't we dealt with that already a few times?"
"only by association," claire admits, "but i wouldn't put it past them to bring it along with 'em now. the boys are here."
"oh, isn't that nice?" donna chirps, already popping up from her chair. "i didn't know they were stopping by today."
"wonder how sam's doing," patience agrees, wandering out the kitchen right along with donna. claire can hear everyone cracking up and talking in the living room.
trust the winchesters to shake things up just by showing up. can't have one goddamn day, can they? well, that's not true. in their case, as far as claire is concerned, they're shitty for showing up and shitty for not. someone has to knock 'em all down a peg or two, so she might as well be the one.
"what did that chicken ever do to you?" kaia asks teasingly as she sidles into the kitchen and stops by the stove, hip-checking claire out of the way to take over.
"the boys are here," claire informs her.
kaia raises her eyebrows. "like, the boys as in the winchesters, or is this a milkshake pun?"
"i can only be so gay, sweetheart," claire says, shooting her a flat look.
"raise the bar a little. could be gayer. you can always be gayer," kaia teases, reaching out to sneak her hand around claire's hip, her eyes bright with amusement.
"you know what? you're right," claire agrees and immediately tries to cop a feel while kaia laughs and dances out of range.
jack appears in the doorway. "hello," he says, whispering for some reason. "claire, i need your help."
"no," claire says, not even glancing at him. she continues to try and put her hand up kaia's shirt, just to see her laugh.
"can i borrow twenty dollars?" jack asks.
"no. aren't you god?"
"yes, but i don't get paid to be."
"well, sucks for you. borrow money from cas," claire mutters, settling in behind kaia as she focuses on the food on the stove, swatting lazily at claire's roaming hands.
"he'll just borrow money from dean."
"borrow from sam."
"he'll just borrow money from dean."
"borrow from—wait, why does it matter if it's from dean? just borrow from him."
jack huffs. "i can't. i need the money for dean. i have a card, and i read online it's customary to give money with a card. also, will you sign it?"
"you got dean a card?" claire asks, craning her head around to stare at jack skeptically.
"yes."
"don't tell me it's for what i think it is."
"mother's day," jack confirms unironically.
claire wheezes out a laugh. "oh my god."
"there's a pen in the catty on the fridge," kaia says, clearly amused.
"yeah. yeah, this is—yeah." claire chokes on more laughter and stumbles towards the group of pens in the magnet container on the fridge. she waggles her fingers at jack, clearing her throat, lips twitching. "hand it over, beanstalk. you're a fucking genius."
"oh! thank you," jack declares cheerfully, passing over the card. "so, can i borrow twenty dollars?"
"hell no," claire says. she braces the card against the fridge and swallows down a laugh. sam has already signed it. this just gets better and better. happy mother's day, old man, aka the secondary source of my mommy and daddy issues. you're going for gold with this double-whammy, she writes.
"but i need it," jack insists, staring at her with wide eyes.
claire shrugs. "tough break, kid. what, cas doesn't give you an allowance? is it just me, or are dads getting stricter these days?"
"i didn't think about it in advance," jack admits sadly. "i want to do it right for the holiday. it's mother's day, claire."
"i'm well aware. sorry to break it to you, kid, but last I checked, your mom's as dead as mine," claire tells him, her voice flat. he frowns and she forces herself not to feel bad. everything that sucks for him sucked for her first, so her sympathy levels are a little drained. "father's day will roll around eventually, and you've got a long line of those, so wait your turn."
"i've already done something for my mother today," jack says slowly, his eyebrows furrowed. "i visited her in heaven."
claire snorts derisively and passes the card back over. "must be nice."
"it was," jack agrees, completely missing the point. "i really can't borrow twenty dollars? i'll pay you back."
"nah," claire says. "who cares anyway? wait, why is dean the mom?"
"well, castiel is my father."
"ah, so it's about them having the hots for each other, then? really, kid, you coulda just made dean your step-dad."
jack blinks. "they have the...hots for each other? you mean sex. they have sex?"
"you know what?" claire points at him with her free hand. "i'm not gonna burst your bubble on that one. you've got enough issues on your own without wondering if mommy and daddy still have a spark, so I'm gonna leave that alone. i've got five dollars. take it or leave it."
"deal," jack says immediately.
money is exchanged, and jack looks like he's on cloud nine. claire's just stoked to see the expression on dean's face when he gets the card. it's a homemade card and everything, nothing like the two claire, kaia, patience, and alex got for jody and donna.
claire helps kaia finish up the chicken, which promptly gets set aside to wait on the rest of the food in the oven. sam wanders in at some point to drop off the food they brought. dessert, by the looks of it. pies and cakes that go in the fridge. it's kind of them, but claire would shoot herself in the foot before she ever admits it.
she lets kaia tug her into the living room where everyone is already at, rolling her eyes at how cheered everyone seems just because the winchesters happened to grace their doorstep. really, they all suck.
but also—and claire will never admit this, not even to save her own life—it's nice to see 'em again. it's nice that they've come to celebrate the day in jody and donna's name, giving them flowers and such. it's nice that they hang around for a bit and don't bring the world crashing down on everyone for the duration of their stay.
and, well, it's nice to see cas, too.
he perches up next to the couch that claire is squeezed on with alex, donna, kaia, and jack. kaia is practically in her lap, but claire is secretly glad for the excuse. while everyone talks and has conversations across one another, cas focuses entirely on her.
another thing claire will never admit is how reluctantly pleased by that she is. it warms her. stupidly, it turns soft and gooey in her chest that he automatically gives her his undivided attention over everyone else, even jack. but, then again, it's not cas' day, so she doesn't have to look too close to that feeling. it's mother's day, so it's not about him.
when the food is ready, they reconvene in the kitchen, and that's when they crack out the cards and gifts. claire is practically vibrating with laughter before jack has even brought his card out. before that, though, she smiles softly and strokes kaia's thigh under the table as jody and donna read their cards and chuckle at the messages, their gazes warm and their smiles sweet. they look happy. they deserve to be.
"okay, last one," claire announces, grinning at jack. she's starting to think she likes this kid if he's an agent of chaos like this.
and okay, maybe she hates him a little in abstract, but in detail, she finds that she does actually like him. you kinda just wanna put him in your pocket without meaning to, she's learned. there's too much to explore with the whole psuedo sibling thing and parents that aren't parents, as well as parents that are but didn't choose to be, only he did choose one of them, and it wasn't her. it's complicated, but underneath it all, there's a vibrant love there that she can't look directly at. sometimes, she despises that she's included in it; yet, just the same, she's thankful that she is.
"oh hell," dean mutters, swinging his gaze between alex and patience. "one of you...ya know? did we miss something?"
claire snorts.
"what? no," alex replies, grimacing. "i have no idea what claire's talking about. claire, what the hell are you talking about?"
"jack?" claire prompts in a wheeze.
"here you go," jack chirps, holding out the card to dean, beaming. "happy mother's day."
the expression on dean's face is somehow even better than claire imagined. she howls with laughter while sam buries his face in his hands, his shoulders jerking. cas squints at jack, and jody's eyebrows fly up at the same exact time that donna grins.
"is this a joke?" dean sputters.
"no, no, nope," claire chokes out, nearly fucking crying with laughter. "happy mother's day, dean."
"you gotta take it, man," sam agrees, clearing his throat and biting back a smile as he bobs his head dutifully towards the card.
dean fixes sam with a flat look and snatches the card. "you're all so fucking—sam, you signed it?!"
"happy mother's day," sam says, his mouth pinched, visibly trying not to laugh.
"do you like it?" jack asks earnestly. "i made the card, sam signed it first, and claire provided the money."
"i—" dean stares down at the card, then heaves a sigh and looks up at jack. it's clear to him that—out of everyone—jack is clearly taking this very seriously. he offers him a weak smile, then swallows. "yeah, s'great, kid. thank you. sam, you are dead to me. claire, i will be spending this on something you hate. cas, this is somehow your fault."
"yup, sounds like a mother to me," jody declares, holding up her beer with a smile.
"welcome to the club," donna agrees, holding hers up as well. "everyone else annoys the shit out of you, but you love 'em anyway."
dean sighs and clinks his beer to theirs.
1K notes · View notes
Note
Could you write a Draco Malfoy x Slytherin !Potter!reader. Y/N and Draco have been dating since first year but haven’t told anyone because people think she might be the only “good slytherin” and to prevent Harry from freaking out they stay quiet till the Quitage World Cup where she goes with Draco and his father and spent the summer with them rather than the weasles . Pansy and Blaise know about Y/N and Draco because the 4 of them became best friends through the years (and reader won’t be only friends with Harry’s friends) . Harry and Y/N get into an argument when they return to Hogwarts the summer of the Triwizard cup and how she’s a traitor (EVEN tho that’s her house) and a disgrace for being with him. So she accepted that and that he hates her so she spends the next year mainly with her house giving the trio the cold shoulder and when the war happened draco and his mother protected her and hid her so Harry was looking for her that time but she was gon so after the war the 4 (Draco Pansy and blasé) walk into the great hall and the golden trio see that Y/N is engaged to Draco and Harry just apologizes and they catch up after all those years.
The Potter Twins
A/n: This has got to be one of the best requests I've ever seen anyone answer. I'm so gratefully you asked me to write it!! Thank you. Also, I did use lines from the book just to make the story work. I could have probably written a whole series so this is very long, I'm sorry. @loxbbg
"Y/n Potter." Professor McGonagall's shrill voice boomed. Just like that, the whole school's attention was on Y/n.
So many students, so much older than her, all focused on her. Probably, she had only just discovered, because of her last name.
The girl and the boy who lived. Apparently, they were famous.
On their 11th birthday, she hadn't expected a giant wizard man to come and whisk the twins away from the horrible Dursleys. But, he was nice and he knew their parents.
Y/n was always treated better than Harry. Aunt Petunia seemed to love her more, even letting her have a big bedroom.
Hagrid, she found out, had taken them shopping and brought them ice cream. While she thought it was all a hallucination when she was able to run through a wall, she knew something strange was happening.
After that, she had met a redhead, Ron. He was dorky but kind to the siblings. And, he seemed to know a lot about the wizarding world.
Y/n took a few tentative steps before sitting on the stool. She was hyperaware of the fact everyone was watching, not able to keep the blush off her cheeks.
The heavy hat was draped onto her head, weighing her down.
"Hmm, the other Potter. You would do good in Gryffindor." The hat whispered to her, making her widen her eyes. She hadn't expected it to talk. It was an object. How could it possibly talk?
Y/n was amazed at the whole thing. It still felt like a dream. The great hall was phenomenal, and she couldn't wait to explore the castle. It was unreal.
Y/n flicked her eyes to her brother. He was already sitting at the Gryffindor table, smiling at her. She hoped she would get to be with him, even though she didn't grasp the house concept. Plus, he was near the other girl, Hermione.
Hermione seemed to know a lot about wizards, and Y/n wanted to be informed. It was like she had finally discovered her missing part.
"I remember your parents. I think you could do just like them." The hat continued. Y/n kept hoping. Hoping she wouldn't go without Harry. The thought of her parents made her heartache, she knew so little about them, but she had heard so much about them in the last few days.
"Slytherin!" The hat roared. Y/n's eyes instantly widened, looking frantically at her brother. How was it possible? The hat had decided she would do good in Gryffindor. She wanted to be with her brother and Ron and Hermione.
Just like that, the hat was off her head. Y/n was speechless as she wandered over to the Slytherin table. Somehow, they all looked mean.
She hadn't noticed who she sat next to until the boy spoke. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He introduced himself, puffing out his chest proudly.
"Y/n Potter." Y/n introduced, despite knowing he already knew.
"I'm Pansy Parkinson." A girl with short black hair interrupted their conversation. "We're going to be sleeping in the same dorm, do you want to be friends?" She asked. A picture of confidence.
Y/n didn't know what to do but nod. "Yeah."
"Now shove off, Parkinson. We're talking." Draco interrupted the girls.
Y/n looked concerned at Pansy, but she didn't look offended at all. "Don't worry. Dracie and I have been friends since we were kids. He doesn't mean it." She reassured the girl, noticing her surprised look. The nickname made Y/n giggle, recognising the look on Draco's face as disgust.
"We're not friends." Draco joked, stoic face. Pansy hit him on the arm.
Y/n liked them already. She could tell they would be good friends. Plus, they filled the gap she was missing, not having Harry next to her.
Harry managed to get a chance to talk to Y/n after the feast. He quickly wrapped her in his arms, comforting his sister.
"I'm sorry we're not in the same house," Y/n told him, feeling guilty.
Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault. It's that weird hat's."
"It's strange, isn't it?" Y/n giggled, not feeling like crying anymore. "I don't know what so much of this means." She continued, feeling nervous about the whole situation.
"I know." Harry agreed with a nod. "We'll get through it together. I just want to know more about mum and dad, and it's good if we don't have to stay with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon." Y/n nodded to that. They were horrible people. "We should go to our rooms now. It'll be okay." He comforted her.
She gave him another quick hug. "Thanks, Harry." She told him before turning around to walk off.
"Wait, Y/n!" Harry called, she spun back around to face him. "I've heard Malfoy is bad news, be careful." He warned. Y/n nodded, reassuring him she'd be cautious.
She didn't believe it, though, as she skipped off to the common room.
~
It was only a week into classes when Y/n figured out not everyone at Hogwarts was nicer than the Dursley's. Mainly Professor Snape. For no reason, he seemed to hate Harry. They dissected it later in Hagrid's cottage.
"'S 'cause yeh look like yer mum." Hagrid offered as an explanation. That confused the twins and Ron, who came with them. Hagrid sighed, realising he had to explain it. "Snape loved her, way back, but she married yer dad. He couldn' stand yer dad. Anyway, tha''s all history now. Unfortunately, he's one to hold a grudge. Don' let it bother yeh." He told the children.
Harry just sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, I'm used to Dudley, anyway." He figured Hogwarts was a lot better than the Dursley's house.
"What about yeh, Y/n, how's Slytherin? They're not pickin' on yeh?" Hagrid asked, switched his attention to the small girl.
"It's alright. I've made lots of friends." Y/n had actually had a rather good week. She'd befriended Pansy and a girl named Daphne. As well as Draco, with who she was very close. That was just in her house. Somehow, she'd managed to sit next to Hermione in a class, Lavender too, and a girl named Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff.
"Good." Hagrid nodded. "Yeh best be off now." He told them, taking the last sip of his drink.
The 3 of them nodded, getting up and leaving the cottage.
"You know, we've got our first flying lesson next week?" Ron asked the twins, trying to brighten the mood. He could tell they were both thinking about their parents.
Y/n did know. Draco had talked about it nonstop. He was beyond excited.
Harry nodded as well. "I'm not sure I'm going to be any good." He mentioned, lightly blushing.
"I'm sure you'll both be fine. It is in your blood." Ron told them. Y/n and Harry both looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused about what he meant. However, he didn't elaborate.
~
Y/n went to watch Harry's first Quidditch practise, despite him telling her not to. He said it was a waste of time when it was just practice. But she was extremely proud of him. She knew their parents would be proud too.
So she hid in the Slytherin bleaches, hoping Harry wouldn't spot her.
It was slightly chilly, the night wind whipping at her skin. That's when she felt the drape on a coat on her shoulder.
Y/n whipped her head around to see who it was, only to be met with the blonde's features. She definitely had a bit of a crush on him. He was cute and the first boy who had ever paid her attention.
Draco took a seat next to her, giving her a smile. "Hi." He whispered.
"Hi, Dray." It was a nickname she had quickly picked up, noticing how it made him blush. "You don't have to sit out here." She assured him.
"I want to," Draco confirmed.
Y/n knew he was jealous. Draco had done nothing but talk about how much he loved Quidditch. And Harry, who he thought was a blood traitor, had gotten all his success. So it was big that he wanted to sit with her.
They watched in silence before Draco spoke. "Did you know Pansy is dating Blaise?" He asked her.
Y/n shook her head rapidly. "I thought she liked you."
Draco stuck his tongue out in disgust. "No, I hope not. I did have a question though..." He trailed off, cheeks heating pink. He was bouncing his knee up and down nervously.
Y/n had never seen him like that. "What is it?" She asked.
"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Draco asked hesitantly. Y/n immediately nodded, accepting the offer. She had never felt happier and more relieved.
"Of course, Dray." She agreed immediately his face relaxed. Y/n reached over and laced her fingers in his, not concerned about how sweaty his palms were. "We can't tell Harry though." She suddenly realised, remembering her brother's words. Draco had never been kind to any of the Gryffindor's, despite them being her friends.
Draco nodded. "Okay." He accepted. Y/n was very thankful he agreed to her request.
~
3rd year was the most stressful yet, for Y/n. She and Draco were still secretly dating, much to Blaise and Pansy's surprise. They couldn't believe how long it had lasted. But Y/n and Draco were drawn to each other, as friends and lovers.
Summer break was also difficult for Y/n. Aunt Marge's visit had ruined the twins birthday. On top of that, apparently, a psychotic wizard had escaped. The Dursley's didn't understand what that would mean. But Y/n and Harry saw just what dark magic could do to Ginny Weasly last year. It was devastating and powerful.
Y/n ran away with Harry when he blew up Aunt Marge. Aunt Petunia had started being much meaner to her, the older she got. While Y/n didn't know Lily, she thought it might have been the reason Aunt Petunia started shunning her.
So, she stayed at the leaky cauldron with Harry. It was the first time she felt happy to not have parents, there were no rules.
Y/n was hiding something. All the letter her owl, Edwige, was bringing her. All from Draco. She figured Harry was too tied up in his own life to think anything was odd. He probably assumed it was Hermione.
The whole train ride all Harry, Ron and Hermione wanted to talk about was terrifying Sirius Black who was trying to murder the twins.
The train's sudden stop frightened Y/n. As the compartment grew cold, she thought it was Sirius, there to kill them. When the Dementor's bony fingers slide open the door, her heart raced, almost beating out of her chest.
This was it. She was going to die from a faceless ghost. It started to suck the life out of Harry and she froze, not knowing how to help her brother.
Thankfully, the cloaked figure in the corner sprung up, scaring the spirit away.
Y/n rushed to get to Harry, but he had already fainted. He was dazed and confused when he woke, Lupin, as Y/n had come to known, handing him some chocolate.
Once Lupin had re-explained what happened, to Harry, he left.
The Potter twins connection let Y/n feel the fear Harry was in, despite being the braver.
Y/n was more than happy to get off the train, being able to sit next to her boyfriend. The Gryffindor table couldn't see them, so they were free to subtly hold hands.
It didn't feel the same that year. Draco was much darker and meaner. He was mean to Hermione and Hagrid, two of Y/n's companions. She didn't understand it.
Their relationship issues came to a head on the date of Buckbeaks execution. Draco and Y/n didn't agree on the situation but it got worse as she roamed the castle with Harry, Hermione and Ron.
As soon as Y/n saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle hiding behind that rock she knew today was going to be her breaking point. She didn't understand why he couldn't just shut his mouth and not say anything.
"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" said Malfoy. "And he’s supposed to be our teacher!" The look on his face was pure disgust. His eyes flicked up to meet Y/n's, not back down from the remarks he'd made as she stared him down.
It was then she realised it. He cared more about maintaining his arrogant reputation than he did his own girlfriend. The thought broke her heart.
Harry and Ron both marched to him, with Hermione one step ahead. Y/n awkwardly stood there, not knowing how to come between her secret boyfriend and friends.
Hermione got to him first, landing a solid punch to his nose. It was as hard as she could, landing a solid sound.
Draco stumbled back, Crabbe and Goyle rushing to hold him up. He gave Y/n a final look as he ran past her.
Y/n's eyes were already filling with tears. Hermione noticed. "Are you alright?" She asked.
She quickly thought up a lie. "I'm sorry... It's just all of this with Buckbeard is difficult. Can you tell Hagrid I'm really sorry?" She stuttered out, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
They all brought the lie, Harry wrapping her in a hug before they walked off. She stood there and cried for a few minutes, all alone. Like no one in the world cared about her.
It quickly turned to anger, her blood boiling. She stormed off to the Slytherin common room, knowing Draco was too proud to go to the hospital wing.
She found him there, on the couch, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.
"I can't believe Granger," Draco exclaimed, not noticing Y/n. "She's a filthy mudblood I could easily get expelled."
"Tell your father." Goyle prompted. Crabbe and Goyle were the best henchmen, dumb and wanting to cause trouble.
"Goyle, Crabbe, I need to speak to Malfoy," Y/n announced. They didn't understand what she meant. "Alone." They finally understood, scurrying out of the room.
Draco didn't look concerned, his eyes challenging her. "What do you want? Hanging out with your idiot twin, that poor, blood traitor Weaslbee and mudblood Granger." He was just as pissed as Y/n was. Maybe, it was the anger for Granger he was taking out on Y/n.
She couldn't hide it anymore. "We're done." She told him. "I cannot be with you when you hate everyone that loves me."
"Fine." Draco shrugged. "I don't care."
That was the last thing Y/n heard from him as she stormed to her dorm room, a sobbing mess. Pansy quickly wrapped her in a hug, not needing to know what happened.
~
It was the end of term before Y/n even looked in Draco's direction again. She spent all those nights silently sobbing. The slight silver lining was she had gotten much closer to Harry, Hermione and Ron, no longer spending hours with Draco.
He'd trapped her when she was alone in the bleachers, just like he did on their first week.
He didn't place a jacket on her, rather some sunglasses. "Hi." He murmured, hesitantly sitting next to her. Draco was sure Y/n hated him.
"Hey." She replied. The truth was, she missed him. Draco was a part of her, they had grown up in love. They were never meant to fall out of it.
"Enjoying your last day?" Draco asked awkwardly. They felt like they were back in their first year, acting self-consciously.
She nodded, not interested in his small talk. "Yeah, I'm all packed as well." She still refused to look at him.
"I'm sorry." It came tumbling out like he didn't know how to say it. That made her turn her attention to him.
Y/n couldn't help but love him. She never wanted to break up, ever. "Me too." She replied.
Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug. He just looked so precious.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" Draco asked, the question was phrased differently this time but it still reminded her of the shy first year.
"Yes." Y/n agreed. She had never known heartbreak like being without Draco.
"Also... I want it to be real this time." That made Y/n worry. She didn't want Harry to find out yet. There was no one Harry hated more. "Will you stay with us these holidays? And come to the Quidditch World Cup?" He asked shyly. That was the bashful boy she adored.
So far, Y/n's plans were to go to the Durley's. She'd just lie to them and say she was staying with Pansy. They wouldn't care because they didn't love her.
'Yes." Y/n told him. "I'm terrified to meet your parents." She admitted.
Draco took her hand in his. "Love, you have nothing to worry about." He assured her. In truth, he also had doubts about his father. Y/n was a Potter.
Once they left the bleachers, Y/n went to see Harry. The trio was in the courtyard.
"Oh Y/n, we were looking for you." Ron pipped up as she took a seat next to them. She tried to not blush too much. "Do you want to come to the Quidditch World Cup with us?" He asked. Uh oh.
"I'm really sorry. I told Pansy I'd go with her family." Y/n lied once again. She felt terrible doing it but she had to. Plus, they weren't going to find out.
"That's fine. Are staying with her the whole summer?" Harry asked. Y/n hated to have to nod. She knew they were keeping a brave face on but they were disappointed.
~
Y/n's lie worked. She made it to out of the station with Draco without anyone seeing.
They got in the car and, from there, they travelled to the manor. It was fabulous. Better than she could ever imagine. Pointed towers and perfectly done gardens, she was in another world.
"Hey, it'll be okay," Draco assured her, taking his hand in hers as they made it to the door. She had already met their house-elf, who carried the bags.
Draco knocked on the door, trying to seem brave. Narcissa swung it open, arms wide open to pull Draco in. Y/n admired how close they were. She had seen Narcissa once before when she came to see Draco. They weren't introduced but Y/n admired how elegant she looked.
"Y/n Potter, right?" Narcissa asked once she had let her boy go.
"Yes, Mrs Malfoy. It's a pleasure to meet you." Y/n politely said.
Narcissa giggled, shaking her head. "Don't be silly, you can call me Narcissa." She said before opening her arms up for the girl. She hugged for just as long as she hugged Draco, making Y/n feel very comfortable.
Lucius walked over, making Y/n's heart race.
"Draco." He greeted his son with a handshake, much less warm than his mother.
Then he turned to Y/n, staring down his nose at her. She had never felt as small. "You must be Y/n Potter?" He held out his hand.
"Yes, sir," Y/n replied, shaking his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Lucius just scowled. Narcissa interrupted the tension. "Come, kids, we can talk in the living room." Just like that, she was part of the family.
~
The Malfoy tent at the Quidditch world cup was impressive. It was grand and dark like the manor.
Her summer with Draco was the best of her life, not that the others were much to compare to. Narcissa was the kindest woman she'd ever know. When she realised Y/n's birthday was the 31st of July, she insisted on throwing a large party.
She let Y/n pick out all the decorations, taking her on a shopping spree to Diagon Alley. Then, they had a spa day and afternoon tea party with Pansy and Daphne and some of Narcissa's friends. As much as she wanted to, Y/n figured it wasn't right to invite Hermione and Ginny.
That night, they had dinner out with the girls, Draco, Theo and Blaise. It was the best day of her life. It only got better when a massive cake was wheeled out, and a cart for of gifts. She was sure it was more than Dudley had ever gotten.
Draco's was the most special. It was a necklace, a traditional Black family one. On it was their initials.
Y/n made sure to stay in contact with Harry, but things had started to slip. She figured he was just busy but she missed him, and their other friends.
It was difficult for Y/n to get along with Lucius, knowing how close he was to Voldemort, the man who was trying to kill her. Somehow, they just didn't talk about it.
"Are you ready to go?" Draco asked, adjusting his black blazer. She couldn't believe how good he looked, a full black suit. His blonde hair parted in the middle. He had grown into his looks majorly over the summer.
"Yeah." Y/n nodded, putting her last earing in. They were a gift from Narcissa, real emeralds. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach she was trying to shake off as anticipation.
"Okay, Mum has already gone to our box. We're going in with my Father." He told her, walking over to grab her hand. Physical contact was something the couple had gotten used to. It was no longer awkward.
Y/n took his hand, lacing their fingers as they walked out of the tent. Draco was taller than her now, he hadn't been in first year. His slim thumb traced over her knuckles mindlessly.
Lucius didn't seem to mind the two of them being so close. The sky had darkened, and the crowds were already cheering. While Y/n had never been to a muggle sports game, she thought this was better. It was noisy but spectacular.
Draco and Y/n talked as they walked, him occasionally bumping into her shoulder. It always made her giggle.
When she heard Lucius' cruel voice, she looked back at him. He was looking up. Y/n followed his eye line. The Weasley's. Hermione. Harry.
Her brain stopped working, and she froze. The look on Harry's face was pure fury. He was looking between her and Draco rapidly, but it was obvious. They were holding hands, and they had just been giggling together.
Those smiles were long gone. The atmosphere had immediately blackened.
Lucius' threat to Harry made her wince. Harry didn't even look bothered, just furious at her. Betrayed. It physically hurt her, and she gripped Draco's hand.
The Weasley group turned to walk off so did Lucius. Draco pulled Y/n closer to him, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
"Hey, don't worry. It'll be okay. Harry will calm down." Draco told her. She just hoped it was true. Harry didn't like to be deceived, and she had lied so much. Plus, Draco was never nice to Harry, Hermione and Ron. They probably hated her by association. "My father really shouldn't have said that." He grimaced. That's made her confident in her decision. Draco had changed.
Y/n nodded, trying to choke back the tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, I know."
Draco stopped in the middle of the bridge. He took her face in his hands. "Hey, I love you." He reminded her before leaning down to kiss her. It was soft and filled her back up with warmth, making the chilling look Harry had sent her go away. She just hoped Harry still loved her.
Y/n tried to put Harry in the back of her mind the rest of the break. She did write him a few letters, but he didn't reply.
~
Harry was too busy to talk to Y/n on the first day of school. She hoped Hermione and Ron weren't giving her the cold shoulder, but they did.
So she spent the welcome feast with Pansy and Daphne. And, of course, her boyfriend.
He confronted her on the second day of school.
Y/n was in the courtyard when Draco and Harry had their quarrel. She always knew Draco was short-tempered, but she couldn't believe the things he was saying to Harry about their mother.
Y/n's shock grew when Harry spat back, knocking Narcissa. He didn't know her like she did. Narcissa had been nothing but kind to Y/n. That was when she knew she couldn't let Harry get away with it.
"Harry!" Y/n yelled, his attention flicked to her. His eyes were even more outraged than they were with Draco.
"What do you want, traitor?" Harry demanded, his voice was angry too.
"You can't say those things about Narcissa," Y/n demanded. Now she knew how mad Draco felt. Her jaw was clenched like her fits. "And, I'm not a traitor. I'm a Slytherin, that wasn't my choice."
Harry rolled his eyes and huffed. "You're sickening. Did you not hear what he said about our mother!?" He lectured her. "I don't know how you could be with someone so vile."
"Draco isn't who you think he is." Y/n defended. Draco loved her. He'd never given up on her like Harry had.
"He hates you!" Harry spat. He was closer to her now, towering over her. She had never seen anyone that mad. "You're not a Potter. You don't belong in our family." He said so lowly it made her shiver.
Harry was so close she thought he was going to hit her. That's when Draco jumped in the middle of the twins, pushing Harry back and shielding Y/n.
"Watch it, Potter." Draco threatened, glaring down at Harry. He was only an inch taller.
Harry scoffed, fists clench, ready for a fight. He looked around Draco, at Y/n. "Mum and Dad would have despised you. You're just like all those other awful Slytherins. I don't understand how you could be with someone as low as Malfoy." His words sat deep in her heart, and he didn't stop them from coming. "You're not a Potter." With that, he left, not looking back.
Y/n immediately burst out in tears. She couldn't stop it. Draco spun around to her, holding her so she wouldn't collapse.
"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay." Draco told her, wrapping her in his arms so tightly. He just held her. "You know they would be proud of you, Y/n. You're so strong and clever." He comforted her, his hands stroking her back.
Y/n shook her head. "No, I'm a Slytherin. They were all brave Gryffindors." She choked out.
"It doesn't matter what house you're in. You're so kind and talented." Draco reassured her. His heart was breaking, seeing his girlfriend in such a bad state. All he wanted to do was stop her from hurting. "I know how important Harry is to you. We can take a break until this all blows over." He reassured her.
Y/n shook her head, clinging to her chest. "No, no, please, Dray." She said as she cried out. "You're the last good thing I have left."
"Baby." He cooed, tracing her cheekbones. "I'll never leave you." He promised.
~
Draco stayed true to his word. He supported her throughout the whole year. Y/n was always worried for Harry. Despite the shunning, he inflicted on her.
It didn't stop with Harry. Y/n lost half of her friends that day. Hermione, the Weasley's and most muggle-borns refused to talk to her. She was always so kind that it troubled her.
Draco took her to the Yule ball, naturally. She saw Harry that night. They even made eye contact, but he didn't comment on her forest green dress. It matched her eyes perfectly, though, and Harry couldn't stop thinking about one photo of his mother he'd seen. They looked so similar.
She spent the Christmas break at the Malfoy's, receiving a sweater from Molly Weasley. That meant the world to her, despite none of them speaking to her.
When they got back to Hogwarts, Y/n figured out how irrelevant she was to Harry. Ron was the one that was taken for the second task. Everyone noticed. Not his own twin, his friend.
Y/n still remained close with Sirius. They wrote letters to each other throughout the year. He knew how worried she was about Harry.
The truth was, Sirius felt bad, James and Lily were his best friends and he knew they'd be disappointed to see the twins split up. Sirius was also worried for Y/n, he knew what it was like being part of the Black family.
He had hatched a few plans to get them to talk, but none worked. Not due to Y/n's lack of trying.
The third task was the worst thing Y/n had been through at Hogwarts. She could feel something bad was happening to Harry. When he came back through the portkey, she saw it. And it was distressing.
Voldermort was reborn, whether everyone believed it or not. Y/n could feel it was true.
~
5th year was exciting.
Y/n celebrated her 15th birthday before it started. This time, they had dinner with her friends. She didn't write to Harry.
Sirius sent her gifts, and he was starting to ask whether Narcissa was okay.
Just after her birthday, in August, Draco Malfoy and Y/n Potter were made prefects. They both read the letters at the breakfast table.
Narcissa was overjoyed for both of them.
At 11am, on the 1st of September, they got on the train to Hogwarts.
The rest of that year went on normally, apart from Umbridge's rules.
Christmas break was a sign that a darker power was brewing. Y/n heard the whispers under the door and she assumed the other side of the war also had meetings.
Y/n was shocked when Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban. After the Umbridge drama died down, they had to sit their O.W.L.s. That was rough.
One terrible day of June was Sirius' last. Y/n cried in Draco's arms for days over the death. She always thought Sirius was the only person who was going to be able to reunite the twins. And now he was gone.
~
Y/n knew something was very wrong during the summer. Draco told her he was a death eater. They cried about it together all night. The weeks following were stressful, and they weren't even back at Hogwarts. The war had started.
Draco and Narcissa kept Y/n hidden from Lucius' guests. O.W.L results were the first good thing that summer.
Y/n's 16th birthday was smaller than her last. Y/n, Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Theo were all hyperaware of the dementor attacks.
That weekend, they visited Diagon Alley with Narcissa. Y/n was at Draco's side the whole time, unfortunately, that meant she had a run-in with Harry and the Weasleys. It was awkward, to say the least. Her own twin still wouldn't acknowledge her.
Draco's task started at the beginning of the year. Y/n was the only one who knew about it, besides Snape.
Then Christmas, with even more death eater meetings. Y/n barely saw Draco. Narcissa had made her promise to take care of him, but it was difficult to get him to eat.
Draco continued his task during the second semester. Y/n knew that Harry knew about Draco. Their twin insight gave him the power to just know things.
It was getting difficult between Y/n and Draco. They didn't talk as honestly as they used to. He wanted to protect her. And she knew he needed to open up.
One day in May, Y/n rushed to see Draco in the hospital wing, concerned about how he could have gotten there. Did something go wrong with the vanishing cabinet?
"Draco!" She cried as she saw him lying on a hospital bed looking pale.
Draco waved at her, a little smile on his face.
"Potter." Snape hissed, looking down at the girl. Y/n didn't care he was there as she wrapped her arms around Draco. Snape was nicer to Y/n this year, which she didn't understand.
From a photo Sirius had given her, she knew she looked more like Lily than ever. She always kept the picture near her. It was the Potter parents holding up their twins, smiling.
"He's fine," Snape told her. "As for your brother, he's going to be in huge trouble." He continued before walking out of the hospital wing.
"What happened?" Y/n demanded, holding Draco's face in her hands. His cheekbones were more prominent now, and his eyes were more overcast.
Draco playfully huffed. "I was, uh, in the bathroom. Potter came in and used the bloody Sectumsempra spell on me." He complained, his eyes now angrier. She couldn't believe Harry would do something like that. But, then again, she didn't really know him.
Y/n noticed the way his voice faded when he talked about where he was. "Why were you in the bathroom?" She knew him well enough to push for an answer."
"Uh, talking." Draco offered an explanation. It wasn't good enough for Y/n to accept.
"To who?" She asked.
Draco groaned, rolling his eyes. He finally gave in. "Fine, I was crying to Moaning Myrtle." He admitted. His cheeks were pink with blush and he looked guilty.
"Dray." Y/n cooed, reaching down to hold his hand. "You can talk to me about anything you need to, any time." She assured him.
Draco nodded, thankfully. "He's going to get detention for the rest of the year." He told her, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.
Narcissa was one of the last people Y/n expected to see walk into the Hospital Wing. She was in a black pantsuit.
"Mother." Draco greeted her, trying to move in the bed to get up.
"Stay put, you," Narcissa told him with a smile. She walked right over and hugged Y/n. "Are you okay?" She asked. Y/n just nodded. She knew a storm was brewing, but nothing had happened yet. It was only a matter of time. Then she turned to Draco. "Are you?" She asked him.
Draco already had a witty reply, clearly feeling like himself again. "Aside from my own mother preferring my girlfriend to me." He complained, a faux pout on his face.
Narcissa just rolled her eyes, like mother like son. "I can't help it. You get into too much trouble." She told him with a pointed look.
Draco scoffed. "Wasn't my fault." He complained quietly. The girls just gave him a look he knew too well. "Honestly, what are you doing here?" He asked. When Narcissa widened her eyes, he followed the question up with a statement. "Not that I'm not pleased to see you."
"I've actually come for Y/n." She explained.
Both Y/n and Draco looked at her in shock. "What? Why?" Y/n asked, most concerned.
Narcissa looked to Draco who sighed out an 'oh' and then back to Y/n before speaking. "You know about the cabinet." Y/n nodded. "They need it. The Death Eaters. To get into Hogwarts." That made Y/n worry. They weren't coming in to have dinner.
"You don't know this." Draco started, making Y/n's attention turn to him. "My task is to kill Dumbledore." Y/n's mouth gawked open. She could feel her hands shaking. More than anything, she couldn't believe someone would make a kid do that.
Narcissa grimaced. "It's all about to start." Y/n didn't need to ask what 'it' was. "So I'm taking Y/n away." She told them.
"Wait... for how long?" Draco asked quickly, gripping her hand.
"Draco, you sit in those meetings," Narcissa told him. "You know the plan is for them to take over the Ministry of Magic and persecute muggle-borns." That made Y/n wince. "It's not safe for Y/n to stay at Hogwarts, don't be silly about this." She strictly told him.
Draco sighed but nodded. He knew Narcissa was always right. "Can I still see her?" He asked, now thinking rationally. Y/n didn't like that she didn't have any say in the matter.
"Yes." At least there was that. "No one is going to know where she is apart from Lucius, you and I," Narcissa told them.
"Do I get any say in this?" Y/n finally spat out.
Narcissa turned her attention to Y/n with a pleading look. "You know we have to."
"I've still got a month of school left," Y/n argued.
"I know and I'm sorry we have to do this." Narcissa apologised. "It's all going to happen next month."
"Can't I stay until then?" Y/n asked.
Narcissa shook her head. "I promise you, if I thought you could, I would let you. You're a big part of what you-know-who wants, Harry more, but you must stay far away from this." She told her.
Y/n couldn't not agree. "Alright. We're leaving now?" She asked.
"Yes," Narcissa told her. "All of your things have been packed. Draco can come and see you once it's over." She promised.
Draco wrapped his arms around Y/n as he kissed her. It was one of the things she knew she was going to miss. She also knew it was time to go.
"Bye, I love you," Draco told her, waving from his hospital bed.
"I love you too," Y/n replied before walking out of the wing with Narcissa.
From there, they went out a secret passage, making sure no one saw. Professor Snape knew Y/n had to go, so he was coming up with the cover story.
Narcissa and Y/n finally reached a Slytherin scarf, which took them to a house she'd never been to. "Where are we?" Y/n asked, still holding on to the portkey.
"The South of England," Narcissa told her, making her brows furrow and eyes widen. "It's an old Black family house." She explained, opening the door. It was just as grand as the Manor, smaller, though.
Inside it looked just as gorgeous. All the decor was French country vintage. It screamed old money.
"It's beautiful," Y/n told Narcissa, having a look around the inside. There was so much light streaming into the room with wooden details.
"I'll make some tea. Your room is on the second floor, first door." Narcissa told her. Y/n nodded, walking up the stairs to find the room. It was decorated like royalty belonged there. There was a massive window that looked right out onto the coast.
It was then she realised the house was on a cliff. Y/n hadn't seen it from the angle the entryway was at. But it was spectacular. Lonely.
Y/n could spend her whole life there. She set her bags down and strolled around the room. It was smaller than Draco's was, at the manor. But it was much lighter. Almost the complete opposite of the Malfoy family home.
Once she had finished looking around, she went back downstairs to see Narcissa setting tea up on the coffee table. When she walked into the living room she saw the massive windows, showing the ocean.
"Sit," Narcissa commanded and Y/n did so right away. She poured tea for both of them before also sitting down. They sat in silence for a while, Y/n not knowing what to say. "I can tell you have questions." Narcissa prompted.
"Why is Snape protecting Draco and I?" Y/n asked quickly.
Narcissa sighed before answering. "Do you know what an Unbreakable Vow is?" She asked, and Y/n nodded. "Severus and I made one. He vowed to watch over Draco." Y/n nodded again. That vow must have expended to Y/n.
Y/n suddenly had more questions. "You need a Bonder, right?"
"Yes, Bellatrix was ours," Narcissa replied. Y/n was familiar with Draco's strange aunt. They had never met, out of Bellatrix's loyalty to Voldermort.
"Are you going to stay here with me?" She asked, concerned about being alone.
Narcissa shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can only be here sometimes. The story is you ran away, and no one knows where you are, so I can't be here too much." Y/n didn't know that before. Everyone was going to think she'd left by choice. Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, Theo. Harry, if he cared. She knew none of them were going to be able to know why she was gone.
"Am I safe here?" Y/n asked, now worrying about how she would be safe alone. The tea they were sipping seemed to calm her down.
"Yes, there are charms on the house so no one can get in. But, I'm also giving you this." Narcissa stopped what she was saying and pulled out a necklace. It was a heart-shaped gold locket. Narcissa placed it in her hand. Y/n looked at it. That's when she noticed the initials on it. Draco's and hers.
Y/n thanked her. "That's not it. If you open it like this." Narcissa instructed, opening the heart. Y/n noticed the emerald gemstone. "This stone is a portkey, right to the Manor." So Y/n would be able to get back to the Manor.
"I can't thank you enough, and I don't want to intrude, but I do have a personal question." Y/n was hesitant about what she was going to ask. But she needed to know. "You said before, in the hospital wing, that Mr Malfoy knew where I was staying. And I have a lot of respect for him, so I don't want this to come off badly." Y/n could tell she was rambling. Narcissa could as well, she slid a hand onto Y/n's to calm her down. "Why is it safe for him to know? He's you-know-who's number 2. Eventually, he's going to want me dead." It broke Y/n's heart, she knew it was going to ruin Draco's life. But, his father was going to have to kill her.
"Slow down." Narcissa smiled softly. That comforted Y/n a little. "Do you remember when we met, the summer before the World Cup?" She asked. Y/n nodded in agreement, not sure where it was going. "The night we met you, I knew. I knew Draco was in love with you. And, I knew Voldermort was going to come back and try to kill the Potter twins." Y/n's heart started to race at the mention of her parents' death. "I made Lucius make an unbreakable vow. Snape was the Bonder." Oh, it made sense. Lucius couldn't hurt Y/n, Narcissa had protected her.
She just didn't understand why so she asked. "Why? I mean, I appreciate it more than anything. But you risked your whole marriage." It was true, and Narcissa knew that.
"I've never thought you or Harry should be persecuted. My parents raised me as pureblood supremacists, but killing is wrong." Narcissa told her. Y/n was thankful for her honesty. She filled the place Lily had left, and Petunia hadn't tried to fill. "I love Draco, more than anything in the world. The only thing I've ever wanted is to see him happy. I knew he was happy with you." Y/n understood Narcissa's unconditional love for Draco, she felt the same.
"He's lucky to have you," Y/n mentioned, trying not to think about her parents.
"I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I'm very sorry about your parents," Narcissa told her. Y/n could feel the tears in her eyes.
She let a few of them fall. "Did you, uh, know them?"
"My last two years at Hogwarts, they were there. James was only 11 but he was loud and brave. He would even stand up to me with Sirius." Hearing both their names made Y/n cry more. She was crying for the dad she never knew, and the uncle she only had for a short time. "I noticed you at Hogwarts, I think during second year, and I had deja vu. You looked so similar to Lily. She always wore her hair just like you did." Y/n remembered seeing Narcissa but she didn't remember Narcissa seeing her.
"Would they be disappointed in me?" Y/n couldn't help but ask. Narcissa felt her pain, running deep. She immediately wrapped the girl in a hug, letting her cry.
"No, never for a moment." She confirmed. "I know it's not the same, but I'm proud of you." It wasn't the same, but it meant just as much.
"Thank you." Y/n thanked her again.
"No thanks are necessary. I should go back though." Narcissa stated, looking at her watch.
Y/n nodded, gently opening the necklace so she wouldn't touch the emerald. Narcissa held it, and just like that, she was gone.
Y/n found a good amount of things to do. There were movies and music. She still had some of her textbooks. Plus, exploring the house was fun.
But she did miss Draco. And the rest of her friends. Instead of using an owl, she decided to send letters by muggle post to the Malfoy residence, so Narcissa could send them to Hogwarts.
~
There was a knock on the door a couple of weeks after Y/n moved in.
She peaked out the window before seeing a tuff of blonde hair. It was Draco.
Quickly, she swung the door open, embarrassing him in her arms.
Draco hugged her back, lifting her off the ground and twirling her around.
"Dray, I missed you." She cooed, head buried in his shoulder.
"I missed you too, my girl." He replied, pulling her even closer. It was so tight she felt like she couldn't breathe.
When she pulled back, she had a thought. "How did you manage to come? Don't you have classes?"
Draco shook his head. "Quidditch match. It's Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw, so I came here instead." Y/n was very grateful for Quidditch that day.
They only had a few hours before people would notice he was gone. But they baked cookies together while Draco filled her in on everything she'd missed. As well as lots of kissing.
When it came time for him to leave, she was upset. But Draco made her promise not to cry.
~
Draco came back after the battle of the tower. Y/n knew there was something wrong. He didn't grin as wide when he met her at the beach.
There were already tears forming in his eyes, and it was late.
"Dray, talk to me, baby." Y/n pleaded as they lay together on the couch. It was far past midnight. Y/n was on Draco's chest and they were a tangle of limbs. She had her fingers running through his hair.
Draco sighed. "I couldn't do it." He sobbed out. "I couldn't kill him. Snape had to do it. It was so horrible, Y/n." He continued, tears still falling. "My father was so mad. He cares more about appeasing Voldermort than me." Y/n's heart clenched as she heard his words.
"Draco, he loves you." Y/n tried to reassure him.
Draco tried to accept it, but it was difficult. "I'm scared for what's going to happen." He told her.
"Me too," Y/n admitted. "How's it all going to end?" She asked him.
The truth was Draco didn't know. And she knew that. "They're talking over the Manor." He didn't want to be the one telling her the bad news. "They're going to go after anyone and everyone associated with Muggleborns. I'm not going to get to be here much." He hesitantly admitted.
"You've done what they needed you to do, though!" Y/n exclaimed, feeling outraged.
"I know. I'm not sure what they're going to do with me. Father lectured me and I just came here." Draco explained. It reassured her there might be some hope he could spend the summer there. "It'll be okay, Y/n."
She tried to retain that. "Can you come back on my birthday, at least?" Y/n asked.
"Of course, baby." Draco quickly replied. That brought Y/n some relief.
~
Draco was busy a lot of the summer. Despite having completed the task he was given, he was still Lucius's son.
He told Y/n all about how the Manor had been taken over by death eaters. It worried her. She also spent a lot of time worried about Harry. He was the only blood connection she had left in the world, and she had no idea where he was.
Draco came back on her birthday like he promised. He had more flowers than she'd ever seen in her life. That wasn't where the gifts ended. Jewellery, new shoes, perfume and a big cake.
Narcissa made it as well for dinner. She even insisted Draco stay the night.
By nighttime, they were lying in bed together. Draco's arms wrapped around her tightly. As usual, she lay against his chest. Draco stroking her hair.
When she looked up at him, she knew something was wrong. After all their years together, she could read him like a book. "What is it?"
"What do you mean?" He asked. His voice was a slightly higher pitch. Y/n recognised that as a sign he was hiding something.
"I can tell something bothering you," Y/n explained. "Let me in, Dray." She pleaded.
Draco knew he had to. "I have to leave early tomorrow morning."
Y/n knew that wasn't it. "I need the whole truth." Draco groaned, knowing she knew him better than he knew himself.
"I have to go early so I can be at the takeover of the ministry," Draco revealed to her. "They're going after Scrimgeour because he knows where Harry is." Oh. That wasn't good. Either the minister would give up Harry's location, and her twin brother would be killed. Or, the Ministry of Magic would be run by Death Eaters. Either way, their power was growing. Y/n knew Harry only had a matter of time. Then she would be next.
"So, no one knows where Harry is?" Y/n asked hopefully. Even if he hated her, she would rather he was alive.
Draco shook his head. "He's hunting the Horcruxes, I'd guess. Scrimgeour knows and maybe a few members of the Ministry." That made Y/n relieved, although she wasn't sure how good Harry's survival skills were.
"Am I going to be okay?" Y/n asked, fearing the worst.
Draco took a deep breath as he prepared an answer. "I'm never going to let him get to you, I promise. My Father's vow will make sure he can't either. No one else knows you're here." He reassured her. Y/n just hoped it was true, Draco could read that.
"So you're going back to Hogwarts?" Y/n couldn't help but ask.
Draco nodded. "I think Snape is going to be appointed Headmaster. I'll be safe there." That reassured Y/n to no end. He chuckled slightly, a smile on his face. "We were going to be Head boy and girl." He explained. Y/n's face dropped as she tried not to cry. "Hey, hey, hey." Draco noticed. "It's just the way it happened."
"I know." She nodded. "It just could have been the best year ever."
"When this is all over, we're going to have the best year." He assured her. Y/n tried to hang onto that.
It got difficult the further the year dragged on. Y/n barely saw Draco. She did receive letters about how horrible things had gotten. Hogwarts was gloomier, no one could find Harry, Snape's regime was intense. Y/n was thankful she was away from the whole mess.
Just before Christmas, she found out Luna Lovegood had been kidnapped. Draco had started to detest the cause he was fighting for. He never said so, but she could infer it from what he wrote.
In March, she discovered Harry had been captured. Draco was the one who had to identify him, and he felt horrible about it. He cried on her shoulder, begging her to forgive him when he came to see her. Y/n was never mad at Draco. She was smart enough to know he had to do it. And, deep down, she could feel that Harry was okay.
Draco was in a worse state when they escaped. Not because he wanted Harry to be killed. Because his own aunt had murdered Dobby. While he was taught to hate the house-elves, Dobby was almost his younger sibling.
All Draco could feel was split, unsure of what to do.
Draco told her it was all going to happen on May 1st. The battle of Hogwarts. Y/n spent the whole day riddled with anxiety. She spent a whole 3 days wide awake, waiting for news.
She felt a cursing pain through her head at some point on the 2nd of May. Then the visions started, of Harry and Dumbledore at a train station. She realised she was seeing inside Harry's vision. When he made the choice to return to his body, Y/n knew everything would be alright.
Y/n anxious sat on the couch until 3 people appeared. It was only the early hours of the morning. She immediately ran to Draco wrapping her arms around him. He was unkempt, and his hair was a mess. He hugged her back, pulling her into his chest. She had never seen him looking as disturbed.
"What happened?" Y/n asked, turning to give Narcissa a hug. Much to her surprise, Lucius shook her hand. It was the first time they'd ever done something like that.
"We left," Lucius told her. That was also the first time he'd ever properly talked to her. She didn't understand.
They explained it all to her. How Harry sacrificed himself, how he died, more importantly how Narcissa discovered he was alive. Y/n hung on every word as Narcissa told her how she had lied to Voldermort. She also told Y/n Harry asked if she was still alive. Harry still cared about her.
By that point Draco, Narcissa and Y/n were all crying.
The sun had just started rising when Y/n realised it.
Suddenly, she had a massive headache. The kind she knew Harry used to have. And she knew what it meant.
"Voldermort's dead," Y/n announced, causing all of their eyes to widen. "I just know. I can feel it. Harry killed him." She felt more connected to Harry than she had in years, but she knew.
There were no words any of them said as they hugged. She could feel her head beating rapidly, the same as Draco's.
"Who died?" Y/n finally asked the question she was terrified to ask. Harry was the only one she knew was alive from the good side.
"Bellatrix." Narcissa sobbed out, Lucius immediately pulling her into a hug. It was one of the first times Y/n had seen them acting so intimately.
Draco continued giving Y/n the list. Every second felt like an hour as she hoped none of her friends died. "Fred Weasley." She could only think about the heartbreak that would have caused her brother and his friends. "Snape too." Draco let a few tears fall and Y/n rushed to wipe them. "Lupin and Tonks." Lupin was the last person alive who really knew her parents. Now her chances of knowing about them were over. "There were a lot of others too but everyone else we are close to is okay."
"Good." Y/n nodded before wrapping him in a hug. They stayed like that for a few minutes. Both couples holding each other, all feeling extremely grateful.
"We should go back home," Narcissa told them, glancing at the clock on the wall. "We'll have breakfast." She promised.
Draco enthusiastically nodded. "I'm starving." He mentioned.
Narcissa reached out to grab his hand. "You haven't eaten in days."
Y/n quickly turned her attention to Draco. "Dray." She told him, hitting his arm. "You can't do that."
"I won't, ever again." He promised, his hand wrapping around her waist. "As long as you're there to cook for me." He cheekily quipped, looking at Y/n with a grin. It was the first one she had seen in a while.
Narcissa and Lucius both laughed at the younger couple who reminded them of themselves. "You're dreaming," Y/n replied, bumping into his shoulder. Y/n opened her necklace.
Narcissa, Draco, Lucius and Y/n all touched the emerald. Just like that, they arrived in the Manor living room. It was like Y/n remembered, still as dark. She did feel better about being there, knowing no death eaters were trying to kill her brother.
Over pancakes, they laughed and talked. The world finally felt peaceful again. It was the first time Y/n had been happy in weeks.
An owl knocked at the window, around midday and Y/n took the two letters out of its mouth.
"Dray." She told him, handing his one over to him. "It's from Hogwarts." She told Narcissa and Lucius. They both opened their letters and read them. "In June, they're having an end of year feast," Y/n explained.
"So, we've got a month off school?" Draco looked thrilled by the news.
Narcissa chuckled. "What does it say about your exams?" She asked.
Draco read further down. "Mine says my grades from last year will be considered my grades for this year and I can become an Aurora. Or I can go back to Hogwarts." There was hopefulness in his voice Y/n had missed.
"Draco!" Narcissa cheered, jumping up to hug him. "Congratulations."
"Mine says the same." Y/n realised. "But how is that possible?" She asked, looking at Narcissa.
"I'm not sure." The woman replied, looking just as confused.
"I may have a few words with the acting Ministry when Voldermort was in charge," Lucius reported. All 3 of them were shocked by the confession.
Y/n was overcome with appreciation. "Thank you, sir."
"Please, Lucius is fine." That surprised Y/n but it was nice to hear he might not have hated her as much as she thought. It was the first time Y/n had seen a smile on his face. "What are you two planning on doing with your time off?" He asked the younger couple.
Draco and Y/n met each other's eyes, they hadn't thought about it. "What are we meant to do?" Draco asked.
"The house on the cliff is empty, if you want to spend more time there, Y/n," Narcissa mentioned. Draco grinned widely, nodding his head. He accepted the offer. "Slow down, Y/n?" Narcissa asked, turning her attention to Y/n.
"Yes, I'd love to. Thank you." Y/n affirmed her boyfriend's acceptance.
"When can we go?" Draco asked.
Lucius chuckled. "You don't want to spend time with your parents, son?" He joked. Another first. "You're going of age now, Draco. Y/n too. I think you've both earned the privilege of being treated like adults." He told them.
"You have to be back for your birthday, Draco. We're going to throw a party." Narcissa instructed, raising her eyebrows at him.
"So I'm not an adult?" Draco quipped back.
Narcissa turned to Y/n. "Will you make sure he comes back?" Y/n nodded. "Then you are both free to leave after I get a hug." She informed them, opening her arms up. Draco hugged her first, standing much taller than her.
Then he left to get his stuff. Lucius followed him up the stairs. Y/n walked over to Narcissa, embracing her.
"Thank you, for everything." Y/n mentioned in her arms.
"It's never a problem, sweetness," Narcissa replied, kissing the girl on the forehead.
~
Y/n and Draco took a different portkey to the house. Both of them were buzzing to have a month together after being apart for so long. They finally felt free and independent.
For a few weeks, they just hung out, reacquainting with each other. They spent time in London, seeing muggle sights and shopping. As well as the small, nearby muggle town. It had the cutest cafe.
Draco and Y/n also hung out with Pansy, Theo and Blaise again. They were all thrilled to see her. She explained the whole situation to them and they completely understood.
Between them, it was like no time was lost.
One summer evening, Draco had insisted on cooking Y/n dinner. He explained it was a date. She was to dress up nice like they were going out. Draco was in a full black suit, matching Y/n's sparkling black dress.
He even set the outdoor table, making Y/n sit there and wait for him to bring out dinner.
It was a pasta dish. The same one Narcissa had made the first time Y/n met the Malfoy family.
"Thank you, Dray," Y/n said as they sat, looking out at the view. The sun was just setting and the whole sky was painted pinks and oranges. In the distance, there was the sound of waves breaking on the cliff.
Draco looked nervous, she hadn't seen him like that for a long time. "Uh, I had a question for you." He stuttered out, cheeks turning pink.
Y/n sent him a soft smile, trying to help him calm down. His nerves were worrying her. What could he possibly ask her? Y/n knew exactly what was about to happen when Draco slid off his chair and down onto one knee. Her hands immediately came over her mouth. Tears were already pricking her eyes. He reached into his back pocket, producing a green velvet box.
"I've, uh, I've thought about doing this for a really long time. When we first met I knew you were the one who was always going to hold a special part of my heart. It was everything about you. I never believed in love at first sight until I met you." Y/n was full-on sobbing at Draco's words. They were the sweetest thing anyone had ever said. "I knew from when I met you that I'd always love you. But I had no idea you'd bear to be around me for long enough. I was kind of insufferable." Y/n and Draco both chuckled. "I'm so grateful I even got the chance to know someone as clever, kind, funny and ambitious as you. Once I'd asked you out, I knew I needed you to be mine forever." Draco let a few tears out, stopping to wipe them. "I've done a lot of stupid things, hurt a lot of people and you're far too good for me, I know that. But, I swear, I'm going to spend every day making it up however I can. I'm going to spend every day making it up to you too. If you let me. I think I knew you before I understood myself. You truly are my best friend and the most important person to me in the world." Neither of them could stop the uncontrollable tears they let out. "So, uh, I've got to ask now. Y/n Potter, will you do me the honours of marrying me?" Draco opened the ring box, revealing a huge diamond ring. It looked vintage and the prettiest thing Y/n had ever seen.
Y/n wiped a few stray tears off her cheeks, leaning down to do that same to Draco. "Yes, Draco. A million times yes." He was grinning as wide as she'd ever seen as he slipped the ring on her finger.
He stood up, holding her face in his hands. "I love you." He told her, leaning down to kiss her gently.
"I love you too," Y/n replied, eyes closed with her forehead intimately pressed against Draco's. When she moved her eyes she looked down at the ring. "It's so beautiful, Dray."
Draco nodded before explaining the story. "It's, um, a Black family heirloom. If Mum, Aunt Bella or Aunt Andromeda were boys, they would have gotten it. Luckily for me, it skipped a generation."
"It's stunning." Y/n leant back up to place a kiss on his lips. "Now, what have you cooked for dessert?" She asked, giggling lightly.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Your favourite, of course, but only because you said yes." He revelled.
~
Y/n woke Draco up on his birthday with an assortment of gifts. After they ate breakfast and unwrapped presents, they went to the Manor.
Y/n knocked on the door happily. Draco's left hand entwined with her right one. Narcissa swung it open and embarrassed Y/n in an enthusiastic hug. She quickly grabbed Y/n's left hand, looking at the ring.
"I knew it would look perfect on you," Narcissa mentioned, tracing over the ring. Y/n grinned at her.
"It is perfect," Y/n said, grinning at Draco.
"You're perfect." Draco simply replied. Narcissa chuckled at the two of them. "Can I have my hug?" He asked Narcissa.
Narcissa dropped Y/n's hand hesitantly to pull him in. "18 but you're still acting like a petulant child." She joked making Draco pull a face of mock offence. "Happy birthday, Draco."
"Are you keeping them in here, Sissy?" Lucius asked, walking around the corner. Narcissa rolled her eyes at him. "Happy birthday, son." He said, wrapping Draco in a hug. "Y/n." Lucius turned to her.
"Mr Malfoy." Y/n greeted. She thought she was in trouble when he raised his eyebrows and shot her a pointed look. The smile on his lips assured her she wasn't about to be told off. "Lucius." She corrected herself.
Y/n held out a hand to shake his but he shook his head, opening his arms. "You're my future daughter-in-law, come here." He insisted, and Y/n hugged him, trying to avoid showing her shock.
After they had lunch and Draco opened more presents, Pansy, Daphne, Theo, Blaise, other friends and several Malfoy and Black family members came over. It was a phenomenal party.
Pansy raced right over to Y/n, flinging her arms around the girl.
"Hi Pansy, it's actually my birthday." Draco sarcastically greeted her.
Pansy rolled her eyes. "Happy birthday, you big baby." She said, giving him a hug too. "I'm sorry I missed my best friend." Draco faked offence.
Theo, Blaise and Daphne all came to hug the couple as well. Neither Y/n nor Draco had realised they didn't know about the engagement.
They all quickly got flutes of champagne, raising them to toast each Draco.
That's when Pansy saw it. "Oh, Merlin. Is that an engagement ring!?" Pansy shouted, grabbing Y/n's left hand.
Both Y/n and Draco awkwardly laughed. "Yes," Y/n confirmed as Pansy admired the ring, showing Y/n's hand to Daphne and the boys.
"That's not just any ring. That's a Black Family ring." Blaise noticed.
Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. "How did you know that?" She asked, looking back at Draco.
He was blushing pink. "Loverboy, here, has been talking about giving it to you since 1st year," Theo informed Y/n. "He wouldn't shut up about it most nights." Her eyes widened as she looked at a red-faced Draco.
"You never told me that," Y/n mentioned, nudging his chest. Draco groaned, wrapping his arm around Y/n's waist.
"Because it's really embarrassing." Draco quietly stated.
Daphne pattered Draco's arm. "Y/n used to talk about you in her sleep." Daphne declared. That made Y/n's cheeks heat. Draco and the rest of the friend group burst out laughing.
~
It was finally the day of the final Hogwarts feast. Y/n didn't ever think, at 11 years old, it was going to end like this. In 7 years, she had learnt so much more than most people learnt in their lifetime.
"Pans, Blaise." Y/n opened the door of the Black's seaside house to invite Pansy and Blaise in.
Pansy and Blaise were both dressed in formal clothing as they hugged Y/n. She was wearing a deep green dress that matched Draco's suit's tie.
"You look lovely." Pansy complimented her.
"Pansy, look at you!" Y/n returned the compliment, instructing Pansy to do a spin of her silver dress.
"Are we ready to go?" Draco asked, walking down the stairs. He was in a full black suit aside from his green tie. He bro-hugged Blaise and gave Pansy a hug before wrapping an arm around Y/n's waist.
Y/n nodded. "Let's do it."
Y/n hadn't seen how destructed Hogwarts was, but it now looked just like when she left. She couldn't help but feel sad at the tragedy that had occurred a month ago.
"It's odd being back," Pansy spoke what they were all thinking. Everyone gave her a nod of agreement.
The two couples walked into the great hall, hand in hand. Everyone was surprised to see Y/n. They still had no explanation for why she was gone.
Naturally, Y/n's eyes met her brother. She noticed how faded his lightning-bold scar looked. But she didn't go over to him, she just went to her house table.
McGonagall spoke, about the losses they had faced and how good always won in the end. Her speech was inspiring. Everyone was still distraught about the battle, it was evident on their faces.
They ate, laughing at their tables as the sky fell dark. Y/n had missed being at Hogwarts, it was like home to her. The couple finally made their way through the castle to go home when it was late.
"Y/n!" That was a voice she hadn't expected to hear. She hadn't heard him say her name in years. Harry. His voice was much deeper now.
Y/n stopped in her tracks, quickly turned around to look at him. She still looked like she remembered. "Hi." She greeted him, awkwardly rocking on her feet.
"I'll give you a moment," Draco mentioned, unlacing his hand with Y/n's and walking off.
Now, neither of them knew what to say. They were family but so disconnected.
"How are you?" Harry finally asked.
Y/n softly smiled. "I'm alright. And you?"
"Good." Harry stuttered. Silence fell again. "I'm so sorry." He blurted out. "I never should have said the things I did in 4th year. I was so angry about what Malfoy was saying and I couldn't believe it."
Y/n nodded. "I know, Harry, you don't need to explain it or be sorry."
"No, I do. I shouldn't have refused to talk to you for 3 years. It was childish and hurt you." Harry insisted. It made Y/n feel like the weight was off her shoulders. A weight she had been hauling for years. "I looked for you when I left Hogwarts for a whole year."
That was new information but it warmed Y/n's heart. "Harry, I had no idea." She replied, tears swelling in her eyes. "Narcissa told me you asked about me."
"I felt the worst I had ever felt. I was immature, and mum and dad would have been disappointed." Harry admitted.
Y/n shook her head, finally letting the tears fall at the thought of her parents. "Harry, no, please. They would be so proud of you for everything. I'm so sorry about everything I said as well. I just need to know if you hate me." She begged, looking into his matching eyes.
"I never hated you, not for a minute. I was mad but I was also stupid and prejudice." Harry told her, finally allowing her to relax. Y/n pulled him in for a hug without thinking about it. "I missed you so much." Harry was sobbing too, hot tears on Y/n's back.
"I missed you too. Ron and Hermione and the Weasley's too." Y/n told him, pulling back. "Would you maybe want to hang out sometime. Talk?"
Harry couldn't nod quick enough. "Yes, please. I'd really like that. We've missed a lot of time."
Y/n pulled him back in for another hug. It was like the two puzzle pieces were finally together. The part of her heart that was missing was now filled.
"Is your scar okay?" Y/n asked, running her left forefinger over Harry's forehead.
Harry nodded, glancing up at her finger. He noticed the ring. Harry grabbed Y/n's hand, examining it in front of her. "Oh my." He exclaimed.
"Please don't be mad." Y/n winced, breath shortening.
"No, not at all," Harry told her. "I just want to be a part of your life. Draco's as well." He told her honestly. Y/n had never felt better than she did right then.
"Thank you," Y/n told him. "Are you with Ginny?" She couldn't help but ask.
Harry smiled as he nodded. "Yeah. This ring is phenomenal though." Harry mentioned, smiling as he met Y/n's eyes.
"I know." Y/n agreed a giddy smile on her face.
Today just might have been the best day of her life. She had a twin brother she spoke to and an amazing fiancee. Life was perfect.
492 notes · View notes
taechaos · 3 years
Text
Freaky Idea
Pt. 2 of New Idea
Tumblr media
pairing: Stepbrother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader
genre: oneshot, pseudo-incest, smut
synopsis: The last guaranteed day you have with Taehyung is spent with his choice of adventure. You learn a lot of things about the history of freakshows, and how much of a freak your brother is as well.
warnings: mention of murder and somnophilia, riding, manipulation
word count: 3.8k
Tumblr media
When Taehyung agreed to being your slave for a month, he wasn’t lying. He was attached to your hip throughout the whole time span, obeying your every command without complaint. You didn’t deem him forgiven, but you can’t say you don’t enjoy his company and compliance. The whole month was a bliss for you.
The first week, the morning after the… event, you had him prepare breakfast for you and your mother walked in on him cooking an omelette for you. She was perplexed, and with her morning drowsiness asked, “You’re home?” before smothering him with a hug. Your father gave him the minimum acknowledgement, and it went by quickly with your mother being surprised every time she saw him in the morning.
The second week, he drove you around and paid for your every need. You don’t know how he has so much money, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he sells drugs or had robbed a bank. You decided to reward him by kissing his cheek every time he bought you clothes and jewelries per your request. He realized he enjoyed spoiling you, and took you shopping in different malls for 7 days straight.
The third week, you met his friend. You had insisted, and he gave in after a short while of you begging because it was difficult to say no to you and rules are rules. His terms were: 1. You're going to act like his girlfriend, and 2. You sit on his lap. Maybe you didn't get it, but his friend Namjoon didn't seem dangerous enough for you to be behaving the way you were forced to. Sitting in front of a burning barrel in the middle of nowhere, Taehyung and Namjoon smoked weed together while you watched them. The conversation was fun, and you wanted to see him again. Taehyung didn’t allow you to question the ordeal. Rest of the week went by a breeze.
Fourth week was relatively calm as well, and now Taehyung is on his final day of slavery. It’s somewhat melancholic for you because you don’t know if he’ll vanish once the clock hits 12. You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, swinging your dangling legs while your step-brother inspects the fridge to find you something for lunch. The two of you woke up late this morning, well, afternoon, and you don’t know why you feel so exhausted and sore. You’ve been feeling this way for a whole month now, but you’re growing somewhat used to it. 
“This bitch is empty,” Taehyung grumbles before closing the fridge and standing up straight. When he notices your soft pout, he slithers his way between your legs. “What’s wrong princess? Are you tired?”
“Will you be here tomorrow?” you blurt without beating around the bush and peek at him under your lashes.
His brow ticks as he tilts his head. “Did you want to do something?”
“Well, no,” you drawl, “I just wish… you were here more often.”
"You know I can't stay away from you for long," he counters your worries, "especially if you allowed me to…"
"Stop." You distance yourself by pushing him away; you don't want to think about what he was implying. You made it explicitly clear that anything remotely sexual wasn't allowed to be brought up when you were around, and he’s been sticking to that rule until now - to your knowledge, at least. 
“Stop teasing your sister, Taehyung.” your mother enters the kitchen while tying the knot of her robe, now checking the fridge herself. 
He rolls his eyes before turning to her and retaliating, “I didn’t even do anything.” You giggle to yourself and bite your fist. “Did I tease you?” he asks innocently with his neck craned in your direction.
“Yes, he doesn’t even make me breakfast,” you joke with a grin. 
“The fridge is fucking empty!”
“Language,” your mother warns strictly before taking out a box of frozen pizza. “And it isn’t empty. Could you turn on the oven for me, love?” You nod and arrange the heat to 200 degrees while Taehyung scoffs, “I can’t survive in a house with women.”
“Man up,” your step-father butts in monotonously. “You have to rely on your mother to cook to this day. When will you move out? Act your age Taehyung, you’re 21.”
The light-hearted atmosphere dims with the presence of Taehyung’s father. There’s a distinct contrast between your two parents, and you can understand why your step-brother is so rebellious around them. The only thing holding them together is their dedication to religion. 
He only huffs and crosses his arms in response as his dad grabs a carton of juice and a glass from the cupboard. It’s tense in the room until Taehyung leans into your ear and whispers, “I’m only here because of you.”
A light blush tints your cheeks at his sweet confession, although it also makes you guilty. He later convinces you to eat with him in your room, and it’s comfortable in your bed as you chomp on the slices hungrily. 
“Is there anything you want to do today?” Taehyung asks as he chews on his pizza.
“Let’s do something you want for a change,” you answer after swallowing. 
Though he hasn’t been showing any lack of interest around you, you are aware that you haven’t been doing anything fun by his definition. You’re worried that you’ve bored him throughout this whole timespan of being together.
A smirk grows on his face and there’s that glint of mischief in his eyes that you’ve missed. Fair, the last time you saw it was before he traumatized you, but you try not to think about it much like you ignore the constant ache between your legs. 
“There’s this circus,” he begins slowly, “I hear it’s interesting. Would you want to come with?”
You know he’s leaving something out, his cautious tone and aura implicit he knows something you don’t. But you nod anyway, because you still stupidly trust him.
Tumblr media
Taehyung’s car is old and retro, but he must have upgraded the engines for how fast he is driving. You like admiring his side profile as he holds the steering wheel, but the view is much more interesting when he catches you looking. It’s a far location, and you’re out of the city by the time he parks his car in the woods. How did he memorize the directions when it took an hour to get there?
“We’re here,” he announces before shifting the manual stick gear with a screech. You exit the car and he is not gentle with the way he slams the door closed, so you do the same. You can see hints of red colors between the cracks of the thin trees. 
“Is it open?” you question apprehensively. The sun hasn’t set yet, but it should be getting dark soon in the evening. 
“Hasn’t been open for a century. You wouldn’t believe the amount of history this place has.”
He takes the lead in his steps, and you follow behind though your gut doesn’t approve. The path isn’t long, and only then do you see the circus when Taehyung moves aside. It’s run down, worn out colors in the curtains, broken glasses on the ground and the circus barely holding itself up. There’s a huge cannon in the middle of the stage, the tip balancing itself on the ground. It’s kind of creepy, but Taehyung doesn’t leave you in the dark for long.
“A lot of crazy shit happened here, you know,” he piques your curiosity, “the clowns were fucking freaks. Any type of physical disorder landed you in here, whether you liked it or not. Even for babies,” he picks up an idle shard of glass, “these were jars. They had deformed fetuses on display on a stand, but the wind must have fucked it up.”
“Deformed fetuses?”
“Yeah, like, conjoined and some other stuff.” You grimace at his description, although it stirs empathy in you. The 20th century sounds inhumane. 
“Are these real stories?” 
“Yeah. And the cannon: they rocketed people from this very bad boy,” he points at it before standing under.
Your stomach sinks as you panic, “It could fall on you!” You pull at his hand and the force makes your chests meet. He smiles down at you before pecking your lips. You stammer, a little mad as he chuckles before walking to a wooden wheel. He makes a star pose after stepping on the metal stand, stretching out his limbs to fit the whole circle. 
“This was the Wheel of Death; they threw knives at targets on this. I think they only targeted females actually...” He nods at you to replace him as he hops off. You go along with his idea and climb on the stand, though it creaks weakly. He takes out a pocket knife from his pocket and you’re about to yell before he hurls it at you. It lands above your shoulder and you immediately scold, “What the fuck, Tae?! Why would you do that! I could’ve died.”
He shrugs with a bright grin, clearly unbothered by your stressing. “My aim isn’t too bad.” He walks over to you and collects his floating knife. “Besides, when have I ever hurt you?”
You bite your tongue and purse your lips with a glare. 
“See?” he whispers. “You can’t even name one time…”
He’s teasing your silence, how you can’t even dare to voice the specific night. You haven’t even told your parents and slept with him right after, and he finds that so interesting: that you trust him with your life. 
“You actually can’t? Wow, I didn’t realize I was such a good brother,” he grins lopsidedly before snapping his fingers. “On with the tour.” He is enthusiastic as he struts past the circus. You shake your head with a sigh but follow him regardless. “So there were sword swallowers, acrobats, strongmen, anything that drew attention. They had a shit ton of accidents and deaths, but you would die if you got boring as well.” Taehyung holds back a bush to let you pass; the place he’s leading you to is a lot more crowded with sages and trees than the previous path. “Once the initial attraction wears off, you’re a goner. They couldn’t survive in that society with those deformities, so it was suicide either way.”
“That is so cruel,” you mumble sympathetically. “This place was like a fractured fantasy.”
“At least they lived for a bit… up until someone ended it.” When he pushes away the woodruffs, you’re met with another rundown site with a few… cages? “This is the trailer. Where they stayed and got ready for their shows. Some were held against their will, and slept with the animals in those cages.”
You gape at your surroundings in shock. The trailer is missing one side of the wall, and the rest have been vandalized with random phrases written in spray paint. You don’t give much attention to the torture cages, because the trailer has a lot more to show. It still has couches on the incomplete hardwood flooring, and Taehyung plops on one. The fabric is torn and dust rises the moment he’s on the seat. “That’s so dirty, Tae,” you pull a displeased face.
“Don’t be rude to the past occupants. Their ghosts might still be around.” He wiggles his fingers as if imitating a monster. He then pats his thighs, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You begrudgingly do so, and he wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you flush against him. “Any theories on how this shitshow ended?”
“Police intervention?”
“Something like that, I guess. One of the acrobats went nuts and shot everyone, so the place was shut down.”
“What?” you widen your eyes at him. “Why did they do that?”
“He was going to be replaced, so he got rid of the competition. Very chilling,” he casually states. “There must be some bullet holes in the walls, but we can check that out later.” His head snuggles into your neck while you’re still processing his words, but you go blank when he starts leaving feather light kisses on your neck. “Right now,” he murmurs, “I just want you to ride me.”
“Ride you?”
“Don’t act innocent, you know what I mean. You said I could choose what we did today… and I want to fuck here.”
“Taehyung… I specifically told you we aren’t allowed to do anything sexual. You hurt me last time as well,” you frown at the mention. 
“I asked you if I ever hurt you earlier. Did you say anything?” he asks condescendingly.
“No…”
“Why are you saying I hurt you now? Don’t tell lies, baby. Besides,” his hand slides down to your thigh as he speaks in a low, sultry voice, “I’ve been loosening up your cunt. You don’t even wake up at night anymore. It won’t hurt this time, I promise.”
You had an inkling, the stupid inkling that you tried so damn hard to brush aside. “You fucked me in my sleep?” you force out, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. “And you brought me here just to–”
“Christ, no,” he cuts you off offendedly, “I’m not that sick in the head. I didn’t plan it, but I can’t say I wasn’t hoping. It’s not like I’m going to rape you.”
“You did it once!”
“I was on a lot of drugs then! I’m clean now,” he huffs in irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and I know my apology is long overdue or whatever, but give me a break. I’ve been into you since I was like 16.”
You turn to look at him - really look at him. There’s not a trace of guilt on his face; the roots of his messy teal hair have grown out; the beauty of his naturally downward lip corners; you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess because you don’t know what to make of his confession. He has manipulated you countless times, coerced you into doing things you would never do, and for once you reflect on his personality. This could be one of his schemes in order to get you to do what he wants, and ironically, he was supposed to be doing that for you. Through all of your scrambled thoughts, you only muster a meek “really?”
“Yes,” he affirms, “that’s why I want to be intimate with you.”
Lies, lies, lies, you think before gently pressing your lips against his. Despite your attempt at kissing him softly, he doesn’t cooperate by instantly sucking on your nether lip with vigor, his hands immediately meeting at your hips to gently rock them against his crotch. He bites your lip before swiping his tongue against it, coaxing, “Suck on my tongue.” The awkward angle from where you’re kissing him makes him turn your body to completely face him, your knees landing on either side of him on the uncomfortable chair. It doesn’t matter, because you’re starting to forget the whole setting, just about everything except for him as arousal begins to seep in. Heat pools in your stomach at the switch in mood, and he’s enjoying your compliance as he quietly moans into your mouth. 
While you’re busy relishing in his swirling tongue, he starts tugging down your pants and you help him without looking. You sit up to push it down your ankles and throw it on the floor along with your panties. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles breathlessly before leaving wet kisses on your lips and pulling away to take off his wrinkled shirt. 
“What do you mean?” you ask, equally breathless.
“I don’t know, you’re just… so hot when you’re horny.” His boyish smile grows on your flustered face as he says, “Take off your shirt. Wanna see those pretty tits again.”
You bite your lip to suppress your insecurities, but it doesn’t help when you’re left in your bra as you cover your chest. “Don’t be shy now,” he teases knowingly and removes your arms before unclasping the garment. “Take out my cock now.” His tone is gentle with encouragement. You unzip his jeans timidly, but your eyes grow in wonder at the outline of his erection. “I’m so hard for you,” he assures you in a whisper and takes your hand in his to rub himself. “You’re so pretty, and sexy. I fucked you every night because you’re just so irresistible. You understand, don’t you, baby?” 
“I… Yes,” you agree and finally push down his briefs. His throbbing cock stands proudly and you’re intimidated by the size until he murmurs, “I won’t hurt you.” He lightly touches your bare pussy, slick with your arousal as you shudder. He coats your vulva with all of it, giving special attention to your clenching hole as he inserts a single finger. “Does it hurt?”
You shake your head, and you’re confused by the lack of pain and the desire for more. It feels good and that is a surprise for you as you sink down lower on his finger. He curls it, adds another finger and stretches your walls, emitting a moan out of you. You’re liking it, and you don’t know why; he was so cruel the last time that you were convinced something would go wrong now. Nothing does, and if anything, his fingers make you feel the best you have ever felt though it is not enough. “More,” you beg and he replaces his fingers by pulling you to the head of his cock. He’s staring right at you with hooded lids as he rubs it up and down, making you release a needy whimper. “Please, Taehyung.”
And like the slave he was meant to be, he shoves it in with a grunt. Your scream catches in your throat at the initial sting, but it’s worth it when he screws his eyes shut in pleasure and bites his lip to hold back a groan. He looks angelic under you, although he is anything but. You realize he is waiting for your cue to move, and it flutters your hearts because he is more attentive to you this time. Rather than letting him take the lead, you act on your instincts as you roll your hips. It’s unsteady at first, the foreign position making it difficult for you to adapt to so fast. His audible quick breaths encourage you to take your time in angling your pelvis comfortably, and when an involuntary moan leaves you, you place your hands on his shoulders before sticking to the current stance and going up and down on him. 
“Oh shit, you’re doing so well,” he praises you between gasps, supporting your body with his hands, “feels so fucking good. My good girl.”
It gets to your head, how much he’s enjoying your motions. He meets them with thrusts of his own, perfectly hitting your cervix and blinding you with pleasure. What is it that makes you feel so wonderful in this situation? Is it the touch, or the complimentary fact that you’re the only person Taehyung wouldn’t get bored of? 
Could it be that you’re two of the same?
Maybe he’s the one desperate to please you, you think as he massages your breasts, flicking your hard nipples with his thumbs so graciously. The eerie silence is broken by both of your loud moans, ecstasy sensually building up in knots in your stomachs. Sweat accumulates on your forehead, your hair sticking to your face but not hiding the sight of his erotic expression. You arch your back and grind down on him, and he’s limp on the loveseat as he takes all that you give him so submissively.
It’s your turn to use him, and you actually start understanding what makes him so rash and impulsive in hopes of receiving this amount of serotonin. It’s worth it, the release of control and morals to be with him. “Taehyung, h-how did you do it?” you moan. “Every night, what did you do?”
“I,” he tries to catch his breath, “I used my fingers to stretch you out. One finger, then two, then three.” He groans and thrusts into you fast and hard, “I fisted you at some point, and you came in your sleep, and then on my cock. Moaning and whining every fucking night, like some filthy whore.” You mewl at his crude words. He’s so obscene with you, and you clench your walls in response. “You like being my whore, hm? Little freak.”
“Yes, yes,” you confirm in a whimper, nodding your head as you pass the dominance onto him. He’s fucking into you while you stand on your knees, eyes rolled back with drool about to drip from the corner of your mouth. He starts to rub your clit and kisses your neck for you to tighten around him over and over again; it’s heaven in an empty graveyard. It’s so fucked up, yet he can’t stop. You’re panting as he manipulates your body to mold with his. “I’m close.”
His hands fall on your ass, greedily kneading it as your hips begin to stutter, your orgasm climbing up just as your energy is falling down. It hits you like a truck: the peak of pleasure, accompanied by a silent scream, nails digging into his skin as your muscles tense. “Fuck,” you breathe once his thrusts begin overstimulating you, but it’s not for long as he shoots his load inside you with a groan. He’s twitching as his erection becomes flaccid, and you feel it as he pulls out. 
“Bet it didn’t hurt,” he jokes while you recover from your climax. You’re leaking with his cum and he uses his shirt to wipe you clean, making you shake from how sensitive you are. “I’ll buy you the pill on the way home.”
“Thanks,” you plainly say and stand up to pick up your clothes. You’re trembling slightly and a little achy, but it’s nothing compared to losing your virginity. 
“What? You gonna give me the cold shoulder now?” He’s only in his loose pants and has his shirt thrown over his shoulder. He buckles his belt while you put on your bra. 
“Why did you make us act like a couple in front of Namjoon?” After hearing his confession, the interaction before bugs you.
“What do you mean?”
“Is it because you didn’t want him to think I was single? Because you like me?”
“No, he’s a convicted felon. Crazy motherfucker killed his ex’s new boyfriend,” he reveals with a scoff. “Besides, if you like me, you’d like him as well.”
Putting your shock aside, you realize one thing: Taehyung doesn’t want to be replaced. Does that mean you hold power over him? Or will he do anything at any cost to be in your life?  Regardless of your internal monologue, you only reply with, “who says I like you?”
It’s a joke, and he knows it. As promised, he buys you an emergency pill and another shirt for himself on the way home. His days of slavery are over, and you wonder: where will he be tomorrow? Maybe take his father’s advice… 
417 notes · View notes