#been more hesitant on here lately bc i’ve been vagued by someone and it’s not fun lol

[padfootastic]

Hey!!

I’m a big fan of your blog as I am a fellow James and Sirius apologist. I feel like there aren’t enough people out here that love these two and their bond so finding someone who feels the same is like nothing short of a miracle. Especially one who is active on here. Also, I’m a big fan of your stories you are an amazing writer. ❤️

I was just sitting here thinking about how Sirius could have put an end to Lily’s relationship with James with a snap of his fingers if he felt so inclined. Like James and Lily are “soulmates” in canon but not the same soulmate level these two guys are on you know? I think back to your fic Shovel Talk in regards to this and how Sirius basically tells Lily as much. It just makes me sorta giggle (is that wrong?) because it’s just so true lol. Like James and Sirius were operating on a whole different plane of reality than everyone else I swear. I just I love those two boys so so so much.

If you wouldn’t mind sharing I would love to just read your thoughts on these guys. Like just to read you talking about them and their bond in whatever capacity you want. Weather it be what you think of them, how you see them, who you think they are, how you think they’re perceived by their friends just any and all thoughts you feel like sharing. This is only if you don’t mind. I just live for these two codependent lunatics and love getting to see other people love them. 💛💙

anon there is something in my eye and u might be responsible for it 🥺🥺

i don’t know where i’m getting this prongsfoot attention from as of late but i am absolutely not complaining because it is the best thing ever and i will never tire of talking about my baby boys. thank u so much for liking what i write (and thinking i’m active lol) :”)

also!!! another shovel talk fan!!! listen every time someone references that story, it makes my heart do this giddy little spin because it’s literally one of my favorite fics/hcs and i genuinely thought people wouldn’t like it but they do and it’s amazing.

you’ve given me such free reign that i don’t know where to start lol my mind has suddenly gone blank trying to think of something i haven’t already talked about before

hmmm ok let’s see. i know i skew towards sirius leaning on james a lot but i fully believe it was a relationship of equals. james was equally besotted by and reliant on sirius as the other way around. so i mentioned this in the last ask a bit, but i see james as someone who’s constantly burning bright and it’s…not exactly easy but very possible to snuff that light out completely. and i think lily had the potential for that bc of her sharp tongue & self righteousness. and she wouldnt think to tone herself down for james, either, because she sees what everyone else does—a spoiled, happy go lucky, privileged dude who doesn’t need to be treated with kid gloves. fair, yeah? except. sirius has seen this boy inside out, knows how fucking sensitive he is, and will do anything it takes to make sure james doesn’t shrink himself to fit the world. and this isn’t like—a huge thing, not for sirius. it’s in the little actions—cutting someone off when they might say something hurtful, turning him away from people who don’t like him, casually blocking hexes cast behind his back etc etc. sirius doesn’t have blinkers on, he knows first hand how ugly the world is and he doesn’t want it to touch his james. (sure, that might mean putting up with his big headed ass but he’ll take that any day over a subdued james potter) and we know from swm that he’s not scared or hesitant to go against james if needed so he’s the perfect person to both keep him in check and protect him ykno? (very grumpy one protects the sunshine one of me)

another thing i love thinking about is how unconditionally they love each other!!! james has a mean streak (often powered by ignorance/arrogance) and sirius genuinely has a whole dark side bc of his black heritage (so many thoughts on that ughhhhh) and it means the absolute world to sirius that james accepts all of him. his family doesn’t like him being a ‘muggle loving traitor’ and the people at hogwarts are scared/wary of his name and anger and sometimes he’s seen it even in his friends’ eyes and he’s sick and tired of having to hide parts of himself to be palatable so it’s like a fresh of breath air to be around james who never ever judges him. i’m such a sucker for unconditional acceptance lol both sides of sirius are fundamental to him and he can’t separate them from himself so whenever james steps up to him without hesitation or fear, it heals a part of him.

also, this might seem obvious, but i think they genuinely liked each other in a way that u don’t always see. like, they were each other’s favorite persons at all times, no questions asked. the average person might get sick of spending so much time with one person, even if it’s their best friend (i know i couldn’t lol) but not these two. they happily welcome every opportunity they have to be together. that’s why detentions are fun—hours left alone to goof around while working off their energy? sign them tf up. they genuinely look forward to talking to each time, every single class they share, nighttime when they can crawl into the others’ beds etc etc it’s all horribly codependent and perhaps not the healthiest (definitely not in a non-prongsfoot universe) but it’s james&sirius and even if they were stranded on an island together, they’d be happy about it

wrt to the james/lily/sirius thing—god, yes. sirius *knows* that he only needs to say the word and james would listen to him over lily and that’s so much power and sometimes he’s equal parts terrified and on top of the world bc of what he holds in his hands but it only makes him more determined to not abuse that trust and faith james places in him. i think this would happen with any potential partner, if only a bit harsher w lily bc of their experiences. james will always, always turn to sirius first and that can be a good or a bad thing, depending on how u look at it. u just know that remus and peter were envious of this dynamic but i think, over time, they overcame it and just resigned themselves to it. i can even see them (particularly remus) actually being a bit thankful it’s not them because let’s be honest, a friendship as all encompassing & overwhelming as this? not easy at all. u need to be able to completely open ur heart and soul up, break down even the smallest pretence of barriers, accept that you’ll always be part of a whole and that’s neither simple nor desirable most of the time. and i truly don’t eee remus laying himself bare open like that, not even for j or s. so i think he’s actually a bit relieved that these two tide over their most intense behaviours with each other and you get a more toned down version of them around others lol (does any of that make sense? i’m just rambling here tbh)

i’m gonna stop here bc i have no clue of any of this is even like, coherent. i erased and wrote the whole thing 2-3 times bc it kept growing a mind of its own and Not Cooperating so i hope this draft is,,,okay ykno?

#sirius black #james potter #prongsfoot #obligatory disclaimer that this is mainly headcanons bc i don’t want anyone coming @ me #been more hesitant on here lately bc i’ve been vagued by someone and it’s not fun lol #we all know bad faith interpretations r the only way people operate here eh? and i rly don’t like it #but anyway yeah. this is how i see these two and i’m rly not apologetic about it #why can i never stop myself from going off on these long drawn tangents smh #i have Thoughts re a confrontation w say lily that causes james to shut down and doubt himself so bad he’s like a ghost of himself #and it scares sirius so bad bc he’s never seen james so…quiet and he hates it. so he tries his best to make sure that never happens again #THIS WAS THE BEST ASK EVER ANON #thank u so much 🥺🥺🥺 #i love love love talking about these two (in case it wasn’t obvious from all the rambling hehe) #they have my entire heart #also think others look at these two and just genuinely get so baffled bc…how can two people be so happy together? it’s almost cartoon-ish #i’m not saying they didn’t disagree (well….) but it wasn’t like. A Thing. ykno? #and they always always respected & loved each other first no matter what the situation. didn’t like being away or fighting #so it was always in their best interests to make up as soon as possible #fic: shovel talk #ppb #pen’s asks

[drawlfoy]

detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no not really

summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.

warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does

a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didn’t think anyone was that interested, but i’ve written for it on and off. it’s about 16k words right now standing, but i’m reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if you’re like “hey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two parts” just keep reading ok lmao i promise there’s more there’s about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words

word count: 11.6k

taglist: @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell

happy reading y’all

For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinson’s head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didn’t know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snape’s hair instead--honestly, it wasn’t even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.

Her life was ending for sure.

“I honestly don’t know what you were expecting,” Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. “Even if you had hit your mark, that’s still technically assault.”

“Did you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,” complained Y/N. “I didn’t even think she knew what primary school was!”

Hermione snorted. “How long ago?”

“Two days. I’ve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.”

“How very analytic of you.”

“I’m going to hit you.”

“And you wonder why you’ve got detention.” Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. “Maybe take this as an opportunity to, I don’t know, do your homework for once? So you won’t have to have a breakdown over the next Potion’s essay and beg me to write it for you?”

“I’m going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.”

“Have fun.”

~ 

Detention.

Something that Y/N wasn’t completely unfamiliar with--she’d done her time organizing Snape’s cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/N’s jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.

Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldn’t have been anything shocking.

At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house head’s office.

“Malfoy?” she spat.

The platinum blonde didn’t even bother to look up from his desk.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall chided. “I think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.”

She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.

“I’ll be back in two hours,” said the elderly professor. “If I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.”

With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy. 

“So what’d you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemort’s toes?”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.

“‘s just a joke,” said Y/N. “Like--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell it’s a sore spot.”

His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Apparently so. What’re you here for?”

He exhaled sharply. “If I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?”

“No promises, but maybe.”

“Late work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.”

She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. “I expected more from you. Aren’t you gonna ask me how I wound up here?”

“No. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.”

~

“That’s terribly unfortunate,” Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.

“Yeah! And the worst part was that he won’t even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. We’re all witnessing our nation’s descent into war--he’s not special!”

“Who are you talking about?” asked Harry.

“Oh, just Malfoy,” said Y/N. “We have detention together with McGonagall. He’s such a nasty little greaseball, don’t you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.”

“Wait! That’s it!”

“What’s it, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“It’s genius, really,” he said. “Y/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.”

“I vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.”

“Listen, Y/N. It’s not for that long, and it’s for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--”

“Ick!”

“If you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...we’d finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.”

“Is that really necessary, Harry?” Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. “Malfoy’s probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that he’s a Death Eater. I’m sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.”

“But what if Harry’s right?” said Y/N. “What if he is actually a Death Eater? What if he’s an active danger to the student body?”

“Exactly!” The joy written across Harry’s face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. “So will you?”

“Er…” She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. “In theory, sure. In actuality, I’m not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesn’t want anything to do with me, either.”

“Love potion?” offered Ron.

“I don’t care how much of a prat he is, I’m not roofying him.”

“I rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think you’re right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.”

“Your back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?”

A slow smile spread across the girl’s face as she nodded. “That’s my strong suit.”

The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two. 

“If you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, you’d be in the best possible position,” Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. They’d won--yet again. “Obviously I don’t foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow he’d probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that you’re a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. He’ll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.”

The bitter edge in Hermione’s tone made Y/N’s blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--he’d spent his adolescence in Hermione’s academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him. 

“You got it, ‘Mione,” she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. “We’ll take this little ferret down. I can’t wait.”

“Don’t get too cocky, now.”

The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers. 

“No wonder the Slytherins think we’re Neanderthals,” Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didn’t respond. “Hermione? Is everything okay?”

The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.

“Oh shi--Hermione!”

Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door. 

“Hermione, wait!” Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.

“‘Mione, what’s wrong?” asked Harry.

“Don’t be daft, Harry,” said Y/N. “You saw exactly what the rest of us did.”

“I don’t understa--”

“Harry.” Her voice was taut. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.”

He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. “Ron is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. You’re hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once you’re out of here and working in the Ministry, you’re gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.”

Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It’s just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought he’d like me back, but…” She hiccuped. “Then he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. There’s nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but she’s so different...I’m so bookish, and she’s so girly and everything I’m not…”

Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ear as she listened.

“And it can’t help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?”

“Girly, don’t think like that,” murmured Y/N. “He’s a teenage boy. They don’t think of love the way that we do--to them it’s a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, you’re not available.”

“That shouldn’t matter!”

“You’re right. It shouldn’t.” Y/N drew a long breath. “So you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isn’t intimidated by your intellect. They’re out there. I promise.”

Hermione managed a shaky smile. “Thanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I don’t think I’m ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need me,” she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.

“You’re not going back to the party?”

“Nah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If I’m not back here in a half hour, assume that I’ve been kidnapped.”

With that, she started her walk. She wasn’t planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.

But the walk was creepy.

There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time. 

“Who’s there?”

The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/N’s throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.

The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoy’s face, hardened with irritation.

“Malfoy?” Y/N asked, rather dumbly.

“What stellar observational skills,” he drawled. 

She felt her cheeks grow hot. “What are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?”

“Very funny.” His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. “There’s no rule barring me from coming up here.”

“But why? This is my spot!”

“Because I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.”

Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her. 

Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.

“I’ll be quiet. You won’t even know I’m here,” Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks. 

“That isn’t a suggestion,” said Malfoy. “I’m demanding you leave.”

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. “I’ve always loved the snow. It’s so quiet.”

“And it would be even quieter if you left.”

“Aren’t you the conversationalist?” said Y/N.

“If you don’t leave, I will hex you,” Malfoy told her through gritted teeth. 

“I just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,” continued Y/N. “It’s so...pure.”

“Please leave.”

On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile. 

Task 1? Technically done.

~ 

The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasn’t completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnaby’s in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable. 

Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation. 

“And why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?” Hermione would ask over their books.

“You don’t understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I don’t want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.”

Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldn’t do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy she’d grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.

Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagall’s office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.

Why was this castle so dark?

A thump behind her made her jump, and Harry’s words came floating back to her. 

Remember all those cursed objects? What if there’s someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?

She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. “Something giving you trouble?”

“No, Professor,” she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. “It’s just cold outside.”

She chuckled. “I need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.”

“I’m not sure if I’m the one who needs to be given that speech,” said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.

“She’s right, Professor,” added Malfoy. “There’s no projectiles here.”

McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. “Please. Behave yourselves.”

“You got it, boss,” she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. “So, Malfoy. How was your week?”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’d way prefer if you didn’t speak to me,” he said, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m not up to anything! We’re in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought it’d be nice to be on good terms.”

“Good terms?” He scoffed. “You’re a Gryffindor. I’d rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.”

“How about neutral terms?”

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. “If neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.”

“I’ll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.”

He let out a sharp sigh. “Believe it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.”

“But…?” Y/N pressed. She may not’ve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoy’s best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.

He stared blankly at her.

“Come on. I’m literally the only person in my house who’ll openly admit that they’re disgusted by that dynamic. I’m begging you.”

She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. “Your house sounds more like a cult than a student group.”

“Oh, says the one from Slytherin,” said Y/N. 

“We only act like that because our families are close. What’s your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?”

“Touché.” As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone. 

They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasn’t staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.

On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldn’t land well with Draco anymore. He’d become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted she’d seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys. 

On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how “big” Hermione’s teeth were (they weren’t even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasn’t willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was. 

“What is it?” 

Malfoy’s bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that she’d been staring at him for far too long. “Nothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.”

“Sure,” he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. “Can you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?”

“Where’s your vanity, Malfoy?” she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back. 

“Shut up,” he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection they’d had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.

“Merlin, what’s got you so wound up?” she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. “Where’s my cool, collected Slytherin?”

He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. “What’s your angle, Y/L/N?”

“What?”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“Because I want to.” She beamed.

Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. “Compelling. What do you want from me?”

“What do I want…?” She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. “What?”

“You never talk to me,” he explained. “Obviously, I prefer it like that. I can’t help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?”

“Malfoy,” she said. “I think you’re a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that you’re funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, you’ve always been annoying, but I don’t want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.” Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs. 

He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. “Oh.”

“No offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?” she teased. “You know my family. I don’t need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry I’ve had my eye on or anything.”

He scoffed. “As if I’d say yes.”

“Exactly my point. It’d be fucking weird. Merlin, I’m not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?”

“Fucking hell.” Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Answer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?” She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. “Oh no! What will my mother say now that I’ve squandered my last chance of hitching you? There’s no way I can go home for Christmas break now.”

He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. “Hate to break it to you, but you didn’t really have a shot to begin with.”

Ouch.

She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldn’t see that she’d flinched. “So you don’t think I’m pretty??��� 

“Y/L/N,” he snapped, his voice a low warning. “Can I please just work? What is with you today?”

Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her. 

Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words “You didn’t really have a shot to begin with” echoed around her head once again. She’d failed Harry. She’d failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--it’s not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance would’ve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasn’t going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.

When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on. 

“Y/L/N?” 

Malfoy’s voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didn’t hear him.

“Wait!”

She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.

~

“I don’t think you understand,” Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. “I can’t do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I don’t think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!”

Hermione’s left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. “Please don’t be upset. You didn’t let us down. Plus, you’re only, what...two weeks in? You don’t need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and you’re good at that.”

“I don’t think so,” continued Y/N. “Harry said that he wasn’t even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That he’s trusted and known for years and years! I’m a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think he’d figure it out quick.”

“We should take every chance we can get,” said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. “You won’t let us down if you can’t get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, it’d be incredible. It’s a win-win. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“I’m not upset,” she said, her tone becoming defensive. “I just...don’t want to mess this up. I know how much it’d mean if I succeeded.”

“So just try!” Hermione said. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I don’t think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what you’d say if you didn’t care about being a good person.”

“Fucking right on there,” she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. “If I was honest with him, he’d leave crying. He should be grateful that I’m taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match. 

After they’d parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girls’ dorms. 

“Y/N?” Hermione asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you think, er…” She paused. “Do you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?”

“What do you mean?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t see what else it would be.”

“I’m sorry,” responded the bright witch. “Forget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.”

“Weirdo,” she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.

The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made. 

“Did you work during detention? Like, at all?”

“‘Mione,” moaned Y/N. “It’s too early for this. I don’t want a lecture. I just couldn’t focus.”

Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/N’s face. “Why were you distracted?”

“Oh, I, uh…” She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. “Merlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.”

“Mhm,” was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her. 

Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? She’d been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didn’t want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadn’t been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?

Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.

“Malfoy, what the fuck do you want?” Ron’s voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.

“I wasn’t here to talk to you,” a familiar voice drawled. 

She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.

“Miss me already?” asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop doing that,” he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. “You forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.”

“Oh.” Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. “Thanks? I guess?”

He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,

“So,” Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, “I think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.” 

“Why?” 

“Not right now,” she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. “I don’t think it’d benefit us for them to hear.” 

“Ok?” She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s...I don’t know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.”

“Sure.” Y/N took another bite. “I honestly have no clue what’s got you so on edge, though.”

“Who’s on edge?” Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/N’s plate. 

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “Do you not see the entire plate of them over there?”

He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. “Finders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfoot’s together, and I know Hermione isn’t going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.”

“If you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,” replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin. 

“Deal.”

Hermione tugged at her arm. “I just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?”

“Sure!” said Y/N. “Gee, I’m rolling in invitations today.”

Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.

“Myrtle! Are you in here?” Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. “When were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” said Hermione. “Are you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? I’ve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.”

“To be fair, she had really good life insurance,” Y/N cut in. “And she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.”

“Life insurance or no life insurance...you can’t seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I don’t buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, it’s clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.”

“Hermione!” hissed Y/N. “You have no clue what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, I think I do,” she pushed. “And you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.”

Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/N’s chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. “Believe me when I say I haven’t ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.”

“Ok.” Her face softened. “I know it might take time, but I honestly do think I’m right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. You’re trying to manipulate him, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And if I have these feelings for him, I’ve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long they’ve been here.” 

Hermione sighed. “That’s true. I’m just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?”

“Anything changes?” Y/N’s voice was dripping in disbelief. “You’re joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I don’t think there’s ever a chance of hell in anything ‘changing’ between us. He said it himself.”

“You know what I mean, Y/N,” responded Hermione. “Just promise me, ok?”

“Ok,” said Y/N. “I promise.”

That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. “I think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldn’t hear about this.”

“There’s nothing to hear about, but yes.” She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermione’s eyes again. “Er, I’m sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I don’t really see him like...that...and I don’t want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Y’know.”

“Sure,” said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. “Anyways, you actually did forget something--you’re not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.”

After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that they’d never consider you as a romantic interest without jest. 

Once she’d made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood. 

Narcissistic snot.

Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own. 

She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that she’d complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her family’s pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--it’s not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadn’t even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him. 

She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when she’d told Hermione all hope was lost. 

~ 

When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.

“Malfoy,” she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.

“Can I help you?”

“I just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,” she said. “And your manor.”

“Well, a lot of people do,” he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he was blushing.

“I’m just letting you know,” she continued. “In case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?”

He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You really didn’t have to.”

“I was getting sick of it,” he told her. “I never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought it’d be a shame to toss it. I thought it’d be better to be charitable--it’s not like your family could get an appointment at Barnaby’s if they tried.”

“Hey!” Y/N said indignantly. “You don’t know that!”

“I’ve heard your parents try to speak French,” he said. “If you’re anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.”

“Malfoy!” 

His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. “What?”

“I can’t even argue with you,” she said. “It’s tragic.”

She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. “Do you want a partner?” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. “It depends. Are you going to be annoying?”

She gasped in faux-offense. “What makes you think I could ever be annoying?”

“On that note, I think you better get back to Potter.” He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.

Y/N smirked and sent him a wink. 

“On that note,” she said, careful to imitate Malfoy’s drawl and sending him a smug grin, “Maybe I better sit here.”

“Hm.” He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia. 

She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. She’d left his box back in her room--she wouldn’t be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but she’d wrapped it in a pouch with her own family’s emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.

“Why don’t you just buy your own charmed quills?” asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed. 

“You already know. We’re an abomination to the French. We aren’t allowed entry.”

“That’s not what I mean.” His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.

“I...well.” She frowned. She’d never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasn’t going to find a way to use it against her. “I don’t like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.”

He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green. 

“Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” she asked. 

He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. “I’m not being nice. It’s just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.”

“We probably won’t anymore, though,” she mused. 

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. “No. I suppose that we probably won’t. Is your family part of the Order?”

“Hm. Are you a Death Eater?” she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.

“What do you think?” he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.

“Bullshit. That doesn’t mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.”

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me, then,” he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face. 

“I guess so,” she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before? 

But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

“Is this why you want to be my partner?” he finally asked after a few moments of silence. “So you can just stare at me while I do all the work?”

“There’s the vain Draco I know,” she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder. 

He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. “You’re insufferable. And it’s Malfoy to you.”

“Fine, fine, Malfoy,” said Y/N. “What do you want me to do, then?”

He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. “Finish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.”

Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me. 

After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.

“Wow. It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “It’s like...liquid starlight.”

“All thanks to me,” said Malfoy. “You didn’t even have to crush the Mandrake root.”

“You’re such a gentleman, Malfoy.” Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. “So, what do you smell?”

Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasn’t any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes. 

“I’ve never been good at explaining what things smell like.” 

“Fair.”

Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. “Whoa.”

“What’s it for you?”

“I don’t...know,” she admitted. “It’s not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.”

“Something with Potter, I presume?” he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.

“No,” she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. “It’s…I’m trying to think. Er, it’s very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.” 

He stared at her in silence.

“What about you? Does it remind you of anything?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.

“Ooh, have you figured it out yet?” she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. “Let me guess. Is it someone like…”

She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. “Oh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!”

“No.” His voice was sour. 

“Ah, it’s Parkinson then, isn’t it? Tell her I’m sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where I’m more sorry that I missed.” 

“Y/L/N!”

“It’s okay. I’d be a little let down, too.”

“Can you please just…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please just stop. I haven’t figured it out. Okay? Happy now?”

“I’ll leave you alone,” said Y/N. “Under one condition. You give me a hint. I’ve given you everything I know! This isn’t fair.”

“This doesn’t have to be fair,” he hissed.

Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“You’re not going to let up until I tell you, are you?”

“You’d be right on that,” she said, sugary sweet.

“Fine. It’s something kind of floral.” 

“How descriptive,” she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldn’t quite remember--the last ball she’d been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.

“I had to have danced with him at a gala before,” she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. “So I know it’s no one from Gryffindor.”

“Interesting,” was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.

Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.

Here goes.

She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.

Well, fuck. 

~

The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the other…

She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him. 

Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow. 

When tomorrow came, she still hadn’t made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called “revelation” after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldn’t immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasn’t like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.

But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. There’s no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she would’ve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didn’t make sense either--she’d never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didn’t think on it.

The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didn’t even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.

“Do you have bad dreams or something?” she asked, mostly as a joke. He didn’t seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.

“No?”

“Gee, you’re talkative today,” Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica. 

“Excuse me for not entertaining you,” he drawled. “I wasn’t expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.”

“I am not needy!” she gasped, smacking his arm. “I’ve sat in silence for a full hour!”

He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. “Think you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.”

“Just because you’re so sweet to me,” crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadn’t worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.

Y/N couldn’t believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.

“Is something wrong?” 

He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. “No.”

“Forget I ever asked,” she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasn’t secretly a masochist.

~

Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/N’s dismay. She’d had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what. 

She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. She’d forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagall’s office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girl’s lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned. 

So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.

“Fuck!” she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Malfoy,” Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasn’t right--wasn’t he a suspected Death Eater? “You scared me.”

He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. “You’re supposed to be the brave ones, right?”

“Huh?”

Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper. 

“Oh.” Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. “I dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.”

“No shit.” They’d begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldn’t remember ever walking with him before--she’d always been late. “Do you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove. 

They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldn’t leave Y/N’s shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.

“I’m glad to see you two getting along,” she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ll be back momentarily.”

After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. “Are you scared of the dark or something?”

She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. “You look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh. Um…” Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasn’t that important anyways. “I’m just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.”

Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is everything okay?”

“None of your business,” he snipped. “I just had a bad night.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?” she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.

“Something like that.”

“Have you tried lavender?”

“I’m sorry?” He frowned.

“Lavender. Like the essential oil. It’s nothing magical,” she explained. “I just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or I’ll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.” She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.

“It sounds a bit too floral for my taste.”

“Here.” Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. “Borrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me it’s too floral. I promise it helps.”

He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “I won’t tell anyone that you have it if that’s what you’re worried about or whatever.”

“Fine,” he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. “Don’t expect me to actually try it, though.”

“Just give it a sniff.” 

He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.

The effect was immediate. Malfoy’s face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than he’d been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. “I’m not using this.”

“Why not?”

“Not quite my taste,” he spat.

Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. “I don’t understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Because I--” Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. “I know what it’s like is all. I feel like shit if I don’t sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that you’ll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.”

“Hm.” He sent her a particularly venomous glare. “Thanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.”

“You break my heart,” she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.

“And just what are you smiling about?” Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown. 

“Nothing, nothing,” she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait. 

He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.

McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didn’t know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.

She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.

“Mr. Malfoy, I’m happy to see that you’re taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concerned…”

While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill. 

Ha.

Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.

“What is it, Malfoy?” she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.

“Nothing.”

“Hm.”

The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.

“Got somewhere to be, Y/L/N?” Malfoy’s voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower. 

“What’s it to you?” she fired back.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.

“Aren’t the Slytherin dorms the other direction?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Are they?” 

She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. “Why are you walking with me?”

“You said it yourself.” He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. “You don’t like walking alone at night.”

“Uh...oh.” Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. “You’re joking, right?”

If the lighting wasn’t so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. “By all means, I can be.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. “Er...I’d like you to. If you want to, that is.”

He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. “Well, come to think of it, you didn’t ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.”

“Why?” she squeaked.

“Oh, you know, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?”

She gulped.

“I gotta get going. Don’t want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.” With that, he turned and began walking away.

“Malfoy?” She hated how timid her voice sounded. “Consider this me asking you to walk with me.”

He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. “Oh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?”

“I’m only going to say this once,” she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. “Walk with me. Please.”

“I guess I’ll take it.” Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.

“You made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didn’t you?” asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.

“You bought it, didn’t you?” 

“Who says I didn’t just want you to walk with me?” pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks must’ve been from the excitement of making progress. 

Malfoy’s toe caught on the first stair and, if it weren’t for Y/N’s steady grip on his arm, would’ve made him go sprawling across the stone steps. 

“Merlin, Malfoy,” she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. “What’s gotten into you?”

He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.

“This is me,” she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that he’d probably never seen the entrance himself before. “Thanks for being such a gentleman.”

“I live to serve,” he drawled.

And just like that, he was gone.

~

Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.

However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didn’t, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasn’t a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldn’t say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoy’s empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.

Where was that loser?

“Excuse me,” she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.”

Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.

It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Nature’s attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sun’s rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.

If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?

The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasn’t even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim. 

As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girl’s bathroom on the second floor. It wasn’t ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings. 

Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldn’t be impossible to spot. 

And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.

She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.

Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like he’d hurriedly tugged something over his head.

A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe. 

Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.

“Malfoy? Are you okay?” Obviously he’s not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. “Whoa! I’m not going to...Put your wand down!”

He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he hissed, his voice weak and cracking. 

“Neither should you. This is the girl’s bathroom.”

final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw it’ll all make sense ill clear that up 😭

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco #draco malfoy x you #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc

[charming-2d-boys]

Hey, I just wanted to say that I love your writing so much, I read all of your Chrollo/Hisoka headcanons or scenarios bc they give me the feels lol And of course, I’d like to make a good ol’ request: Could you please hit me with some Hisoka & Chrollo fluff? 😩👊🏻

Hello and thanks for all the love, I really appreciate the fact that you like them so much! 😄

Hmm, this is a bit vague and I hope I understood well what you wanted, ngl. I’ve decided to write a drabble for each one in the end.

But thank you for the request! If there’s anything that I misunderstood, don’t hesitate to tell me! I hope you'll like this as well! 🙇💕

Sick - Chrollo x Reader

   For the past few days, Chrollo has been pretty much down in the dumps. You didn’t know why and he wouldn’t really tell you either. The Spiders were fine, there had been no big missions or anything like that, he had even managed to get his hands on all of the books he wanted. So you were left confused and worried.

   Maybe it was because of the weather? It had gotten cold all of a sudden after weeks of warmth and sunshine and even you were feeling the effects of the unexpected change. And all it took for you to understand why Chrollo was feeling like that was you coming home one evening from classes.

   Chrollo had been staying at home and had told you he’d take a shower, just so you knew why he wouldn’t be there to greet you immediately. And then you heard him cough, loudly and painfully, as soon as you closed the door.

   So the great Chrollo Lucilfer had gotten sick. His voice did seem to get a bit deeper, but you didn’t think much of it. But now it made a bit more sense.

   Sighing, you went into the kitchen to make him some warm tea and made sure to add a lot of honey, then you brought some the fluffiest and warmest blankets in the living room and waited for you boyfriend to come out. And when he did, he was dressed in warm clothes. You felt relief that he at least thought of that.

   “Oh, you’re home.” He didn’t sound surprised, but his face was a bit flushed and you felt a pang in your heart.

   “Yep, and you’re sick. Go sit on the couch and cover yourself with the blanket, I’ll bring you tea. Also, the thermometer is on the coffee table, take your temperature, please.” You kissed his cheek briefly before gently pushing him towards the living room and going back into the kitchen.

   “Do you want any soup? And no, it’s no bother, so don’t even try it.” You could hear him chuckle lightly before another cough interrupted it. It was hard not to feel bad for your boyfriend when he was in this state. He looked like a kicked puppy when you brought him the tea and pressed a cold compress to his forehead, hiding his tattoo. As you brushed your fingers over his cheek to feel for any fever, you smiled when his grey eyes, half-lidded and tired, looked at you, a little smile on his lips.

   “You should’ve told me you were sick.”

   “I haven’t been sick since I was a child. I’d forgotten what it was like. But I’m glad you’re here to take care of me.” His smile widened a little and you could only laugh lightly before kissing his cheek.

   “I’ll bring you the soup soon. Love you.”

   “I love you too.” Chrollo said quietly as he watched you walk away, smiling and feeling the butterflies go crazy in his stomach just from your mere presence.

Brand new day - Hisoka x Reader

   “Hisoka, slow down for a bit! I can’t keep up with those long ass legs of yours!” You yelled as you struggled climbing the path littered with uneven rocks. “It’s too early for this shit... My only day off this week, spent with this lunatic thinking we’re mountain goats or something... at 5 in the morning...” You continued huffing and complaining as you kept climbing, Hisoka’s silhouette in front of you. He had so much energy that you honestly felt like picking up a rock and throwing it at his head.

   “Come on, lovely, or we’ll be late~ ♦️” His voice was loud and teasing. Where was that rock? You’d seen a perfect one just a few seconds ago.

   “Why are we here so early? We haven’t even had breakfast!” Hisoka only laughed at your whining, barely feeling bad. Jerk.

   “You’ll see~ ♥️️ Now hurry up! ♠️” Sometimes, you really regretted not putting that pillow on his face. You continued walking towards him at what you thought was a snail’s pace. And soon, you were on a horizontal path again, with Hisoka grabbing your hand in his and intertwining your fingers together. It baffled you sometimes how your hands fit perfectly together, like pieces of puzzle, while his tight, warm grip never seemed to bother you. How could someone like Hisoka make you feel so safe just by holding onto your hand? You’d never know.

   “See that rock over there? That’s where we’re going. ♦️” Just at the tip of his long, sharp fingernails, you could see a rock jutting out of the ground, seemingly by itself as there were no other rocks in its vicinity.

   “What’s over there?” Your voice was questioning and so were your eyes which were staring at Hisoka’s face as you both walked in that direction with purpose. Your boyfriend only grinned at you, golden eyes staring at you playfully and even somewhat lovingly.

   “It’s a surprise~ ♠️” Of course. You rolled your eyes but kept walking. He could be such a tease sometimes. When you finally arrived, the edge of the cliff was literally a metre and a half away from the jutting rock. Hisoka pulled a picnic blanket from his backpack - when had he packed up and why didn’t you notice it? He set it down on the dusty ground, sitting down and pulling you in-between his legs, keeping your back against his front as his arms went around you, trying to keep you warm.

   It was almost 6 AM and you were wondering what you were doing there, in the middle of nowhere. The city lights were visible and twinkling from up there and everything started to be a bit easier to see now that the sun was slowly starting to peek up from over the horizon.

   “Are you cold, lovely? ♥️️” Hisoka’s voice was quiet as he moved his head to the side to catch your eye, a smile plastered on his lips. You only shook your head, kissing his jaw lightly before snuggling back into his embrace.

   “Are you?” He shook his head as well, hugging you tighter. And your hold on his hands tightened when the first rays of the sun started brightening everything up. You could only smile when you felt your boyfriend’s lips touch your temple. Hisoka could be such a romantic sometimes, you swore he was making you fall for him even more every day.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh hisoka #hxh writing

[dastardlydandelion]

Max Mayfield and Tory Nichols in a horror film, what would be the plot/monster and would they survive?

this is it. this is the tumblr ask. the ask i've been waiting for my whole life. my time to shine, here we go!

filming begins under the cut:

tried and true creature feature, this is a werewolf movie. let's go with a werewolf between the van helsing (2004) and trick r treat (2007) variety. the beast once transformed is fucking huge, clearly both lupine and human, head almost entirely wolf, body primarily bipedal in shape, but robust, sinew shredding claws and big ass bone tearing teeth. also tails!! bc tails are cute!!! powers include monstrous strength, accelerated speed, healing factor. weaknesses silver and decapitation.

okay, so van helsing (2004) werewolves are mindless rage monsters and trick r treat (2007) werewolves are cognizant. for our max & tory creature feature, they're gonna of the in between variety. i chose a werewolf movie for these two specifically bc they both have their anger problems and the werewolf has long been a symbol of anger unleashed in the horror genre, even tho common gray wolves are just like. i mean, yk, animals, they hunt and howl and pee on trees and most of the time would rather avoid humans. but obvi horror genre werewolves are not common gray wolves, they need to be scary, and like, the remnants of traditional folklore influenced by rabies and discourse in the middle ages...wait, where was i going with this? anger, yes, max and tory both have anger problems and i think this works for what i'm gonna do with this theoretical movie.

who's the werewolf in town? terry fucking silver. bc terry is evil and dramatic and also, i think it's rly funny for a werewolf to have silver as a surname. he's fully cognizant in his transformation and he's purposefully biting kids and teenagers bc he wants more talented karate students. and like. yk, with the enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative recovery of lycanthropy, well. there u have it, more talented karate students.

do max and tory know each other, if so, how? okay, so in this 'verse tory is a lil older than max. that reflects their canon ages, i think. let's say max is 13 and tory is 16. billy has tory in some of his classes and he more or less makes a deal to spilt his allowance with her if she'll babysit max bc he's tired of neil riding his ass to babysit max. tory needs money so she's like, 'sure, why not.' max finds it rly stupid that she's 13 and neil thinks she needs a fucking babysitter but as far as babysitters go, tory is fun. she likes to show max what she's learning in cobra kai and they spar together a lot. max would actually like to join cobra kai but 1) neil would throw a fit on various fronts and 2) lucas is in miyagi-do. max knows there's some rly intense beef between cobra kai and miyagi-do. ofc tory's filled her in on the karate war, how could she not?

well one day tory takes max to the playground to watch a plane fly like she does with miggy in ck, and it's nighttime, ofc, and lo, the full moon is out. shining up in the sky. they hear a howl. they both look at each other. max is kinda curious but tory's like nah, nah, we gotta go. she grabs her, starts pulling her along. but the next howl is a lot closer and they can hear smth running and it just sounds fuckin big. they're running too now, legs pumping hard, but there's no escape once the beast is right behind them, hot, rancid breath blasting the backs of their necks and harvest gold eyes glowing in the dark.

max gets bitten first. tory tries to kick the big ass beast off of her and then it rounds and bites her too. the terror is real now. and then shockingly, as fast as it'd come, it leaves. neither girl has an explanation for wtaf just happened but tory takes max home. billy gripes at her for being out late but helps her patch up. when susan learns what happens she decides to take max to get rabies shots right away. loads her up in the car, runs her off to the emergency room-- but when the bandages come off, they are no wounds.

tory's bby bro tries to help patch her up too. but he's like 4 yrs old and his idea of "help" is sticking bandaids with cartoon characters up and down the wounds in haphazard fashion. tory plans to redo it all properly once she's put him to bed. sure enough after he's asleep, and she peels the bandaids off from every open mouthed pac-man to every green teenage mutant ninja turtle, the wounds are gone.

meanwhile there's missing ppl err day on the news. terry turns kids and teens but kills adults for the lulz.

tory and max know what happened to them was an event that tangibly, definitely happened but neither have any explanation for their wounds just disappearing. max, our resident horror fan, is the first to propose a real life werewolf as an explanation. she cites the missing ppl on the news. tory thinks she's tripping balls but reluctantly gives an inch when she acknowledges no, she can't think of any other explanation.

life goes on. max tells lucas what happened only she leaves out the part abt tory bc she's not gonna tell a miyagi-do student she's kickin it w the enemy. he doesn't rly believe her, like how she didn't rly believe him about the upside-down in their canon. he thinks the horror movies are rotting her brain.

tory almost tells her dojo but she gets distracted being pissed off by sam and that should be her priority, right? sensei kreese is always going on abt getting back at the enemy. she spends her shifts daydreaming abt revenge bc it's more comforting than worrying abt past due bills and her mother looking paler by the day.

full moon next month comes around. neither tory nor max are cognizant of or during their first respective transformations. max's first kill is neil. she's seven feet of fur and fury, tears his ribcage open with claws like daggers and sinks her teeth into his putrid, maggoty heart. susan isn't home. billy is, but he doesn't hear any of the fracas. he's unconscious on the living room floor, crisscrossing impressions of neil's belt buckle blaring red on his back.

tory's first kill is sam. sam larusso wants to think she's a bully?? fine, tory will show her a bully. she hops the miyagi-do fence after hours. she just wants a fight. just a fight, they always fight. but then she's sprouting fur and tory as tory gives way to smth else. she'd not aware of being a person when she doesn't have fur. not really, all she knows is rage and ravenousness and the morsel below her has bunny rabbit wide eyes.

neither of them remember what they did the next day. not vividly, anyway. it's there but it's cloudy and hard to discern, like a groggy fever dream more than a memory. but max burps up neil's wedding band and tory finds señor octopus (sam's stuffed animal) bloodied in her bed. it's apparent what happened. max accepts this more easily than tory bc 1) she always kind of suspected she'd turn, since she sincerely considered what attacked them was a werewolf and 2) max isn't terribly upset abt killing neil while tory is acutely horrified she killed sam.

max kinda had some smidgen of attachment to neil bc like, he's the only father figure in her life and here and there they've had their moments. but his abuse (psychological/physical toward billy, sexual/financial/psychological/emotional toward susan, psychological/emotional toward herself) outweighed any and all of those moments. she is genuinely concerned that she tore a human being to pieces and only vaguely remembers it but like, if she had to kill anyone, she figures neil was the best to kill. max is mostly concerned bc she can't kill neil a second time. she's worried the next time she turns it could be an innocent person, or one of her friends, or her mom, or billy.

tory is blindsided and scarcely able to comprehend the reality, holy shit, max was right, she's a fuckin werewolf. and she's sick to her stomach bc she hated sam but she never wanted to do anything like that. she didn't want to kill, she just wanted to break her face. scare her. rough her up. she didn't want to eat her. she just killed someone. she's a literal horror movie monster and she just killed sam. what's miguel going to think?

tory and max talk. they decide they need to find the werewolf who turned them. we get montages of them going over the news articles with a fine-toothed *ba dum tss* comb and searching areas where it seems like a werewolf would be. the woods. some caves. max all of a sudden has a freakishly tall man constantly hounding her to join cobra kai. neil's gone but she still hesitates bc of lucas being in miyagi-do. also he believes max now and with the proff, she's decided to let the rest of the party in as well. they also exist in this 'verse. she showed them the crime scene and the wedding band she burped up. billy isn't a roid rage racist in this 'verse bc that would be a giant buzzkill. he doesn't believe the werewolf shit either. he thinks max saw neil get attacked by some animal and that the carnage was so traumatizing for her, she subconsciously created a werewolf fantasy to cope.

tory meanwhile spirals downward. bc she passes sam's memorialized locker in the hall everyday. her memorial table in the other hall, full of sticky note condolences and mournful teddy bears, and a picture of sam right in the center always, always accusing her. miggy is heartbroken and distraught. hawk didn't care for sam but even he's freaked out by what happened, how the news said there were only torn up chunks and bones picked clean found in her bedroom. tory is terrified of herself. she's desperate to find whoever did this bc she wants to make them pay. if sensei silver has been asking her extra questions lately and presenting her performance to the class more than normal, she doesn't notice at all. aisha notices tory's fucked up but tory can't exactly tell aisha that she *ate* sam. aisha is also mourning, she and sam used to be bffs. so she doesn't say a word.

max has a theory that if u can learn to control ur anger, u can learn to control urself when u shift. she is, after all, v familiar with angry horror movie werewolves. and she's savvy enough to know it's smth she and tory have in common. neil is dead but that doesn't mean max isn't angry anymore. she's still angry at the damage already done and tbh also angry that there's some werewolf around turning ppl willy nilly bc she recognizes the danger in that and it wasn't smth she consented to. but controlling ur anger is an easier feat for max than tory insofar that max has a support system w her friends, and better relationships with the remainder of her fam. tory has two mentors actively, adamantly teaching her and her friends to be ruthless, view the world as ur enemy, use violence as ur go-to solution, and that mercy is weakness not to be tolerated.

when the next full moon rolls around, they decide to spend it together under the correct inference that they will transform. they think it's better to be together. they're hoping they'll be able to control each other, if not themselves. or that if they are both mindless rage monsters again, that rage will be turned on each other. this would be a better outcome operating on the presumption that one werewolf will be able to take what another can dish out, at the v least more so than a regular human being.

max is successfully able to maintain enough of her consciousness to control her actions once transformed. she feels aggressive and hungry, but not enraged and ravenous. she can keep it in check. tory, on the other hand, uh...tory can't do it. she throws her wolf head back in the most bloodcurdling howl ever and takes off like a bat outta hell. max goes loping after her. they can't speak like human speak in this form, but max tries to communicate with her. whimpers plaintively. tackles tory at one point, not out of anger but just tryna subdue her, licks at her ears and tries to get her to settle. tory bucks her off.

tory runs off again, max in pursuit. they wind up at the skate park where billy n robby are prolly up to some fuckery or another. i could easily see pre miyagi-do robby n billy getting up to all kinds of mischief. ooh, actually, they're prolly arguing abt that. now that robby's in miyagi-do he has another outlet for all his energy and he's getting the positive attention he craves so he's not participating in hooligan activity or shenanigans w billy anymore and billy is like. offended. except suddenly there's werewolves. fucking. snarling, gigantic, toothy, hairy ass werewolves.

let's say robby kicked miguel down two stories in this 'verse too and tory recognizes him in her werewolf form even if she isn't exactly cognizant of herself. she tears straight for him, jaws open. billy doesn't exactly *mean* to protect him but it's kinda an automatic reaction from putting himself in between whenever he thought neil was getting too aggressive w susan or max. and like, sure, robby's the better fighter (not that billy would ever acknowledge this) but it's not like he's gonna karate kick the motherfuckin werewolf anyway-- billy is bigger, he's bigger and it's instinct and the next thing he knows, he's in between robby and the thing w sharp teeth (tory).

and that's when max gets serious. she bowls tory over, away from billy before she can bite. they're rolling, tearing at each other with teeth and claws. lo and behold, terry silver is lurking in the background like the evil mastermind he is, just watching them shred each other and evaluating his experiment. it's a p close match and tory is the more aggressive of the two but she's also been going, going, going since she shifted and she's burning herself out. she's also fighting with the blind instinct of a threatened animal while max maintains more precision bc she has better control of herself. max also isn't wasting energy unnecessarily. max gets her jaws around tory's throat and tory just goes slack. but she can think and she doesn't want to hurt tory, so she opens her mouth and relaxes her maw, teeth grazing harmlessly thru tory's fur.

tory's being shown mercy. possibly for the first time. it's so unlike her conception of others' ruthlessness, so unlike the worldview that's been instilled into her that it startles her enough to crack thru to her cognizance. she does the wolfy deference thing where they tuck their tails and lick at the dominant pack member's muzzle. max responds in kind and lets tory up.

this is when they notice terry lurking (billy's already worked out the werewolf that came to his defense is max so he's just dumbfounded watching all this shit, and robby's not abt to leave someone who just saved his ass, so he's stuck unsuccessfully tryna pull billy away and inevitably watching too). terry calmly slinks over, sizing up his charges. he's pleased with the performance. but tory and max are anything but, another werewolf fight ensues.

so while they all get huge after transforming sheerly on the basis of being werewolves, i'm gonna guess the size is proportionate to their human forms. so tory is a little larger than max and terry significantly outsizes them both. terry is also the more experienced werewolf. it's two against one but it's not the curbstop it would be if this was some weaksauce werewolf, it's dramatic evil karate werewolf terry fuckin silver. terry's shredding tf outta these two. their healing factor can't keep up, he's dishing out faster than either of them can recover and tbh they were already winded from fighting each other first.

but it'd be a major buzzkill if our movie had a downer ending. and also, the power of determination and friendship and shit. terry's got his jaws around max's throat now. he's a millisecond away from tearing it open. tory's pinned under him but she thinks fast, frees a hind leg, and rips her claws down his soft underbelly as deep as she can and doesn't stop ripping, like pedal kicking almost for a human, but with her hind claws. his intestines shoot out like paper snakes from a gag candy can!! okay, well, maybe they don't shoot out w that much gusto, but still. the bowels are free, the bowels are hanging low and tory's tearing 'em tf up, fluids n fecal matter errywhere. on tory. i'm sorry tory. ur under him, that's just how gravity works.

terry dies. healing factor can't keep up with the damage done, it's too critical. but nobody knows it's terry until the dawn breaks and he reverts back to his human shape.

max is v much 'i told u so,' in billy's face. robby promises not to tell. he doesn't want to get mauled or killed or anything. tory's able to cope better with what she did to sam knowing that it won't happen again, that she won't hurt anyone else she doesn't want to be she can control herself now. tory believes in mercy now bc max spared her, she trashes kreese's philosophy and joins eagle fang when johnny and daniel join forces in this 'verse too. max also joins eagle fang, takes her place in the front row right between tory and lucas at her v first practice.

credits roll.

after the credits we see tory considering turning her mother in the hopes that having the healing factor would help her mom's condition improve.

is that a teaser for the sequel?

idfk.

#max mayfield #dare i tag tory #i dare not #lucdarling #ask box #my fic tag #i kind of want to write this as a fic for real #fuck

[unityghost]

Morning Glory

Part 25 (yikes, wow, homegirl needs a social life) of the Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels series.

Based on one of the most intriguing prompts I've ever received:

Gabe's always torn between wanting to be hurt and wanting to be looked after, so if (somehow) he ended up being caught by a djinn what would he see? and how would he react once someone (read Sam lol) woke him up? like, would he be guilty for dreaming of going on hunts with the Winchesters and feeling like family or freaked out BC he'd just seen Sam attack him with the archangel blade? - Type40Treklock (Fanfiction.net)

It took me too long to get to this. Tumblr followers ... you have been patient with me. Thank you and I'm sorry for the wait!

                                         Morning Glory                                                   

Is everything okay?

You’re not hurt, are you?

I’m not the only one who’s worried. If we don’t hear from you, we’ll come and shake you out of whatever hangover is keeping you from texting back.

“Gabriel,” Castiel interrupted, “I doubt that they’ve gone four days without contact just because of a drunken stupor.”

Gabriel looked up from his phone. “Oh yeah? You’d put it past Dean to take a long-ass Epicurean detour?”

“No, I wouldn’t. But we should at least have heard from Sam. Don’t you agree?”

Gabriel sighed. “Yeah. I do.”

“In any case,” Castiel went on, “You’re right that there’s nothing in your recent exchanges with Sam to shed any light on their predicament.”

“Hey, hey, there might not even be a predicament. This radio silence could be chalked up to anything.”

“Yes.” Cas looked somber. “That’s exactly why we’re here. Speaking of which, I don’t mind flying you back home if you feel ambivalent about this.”

“Cas, please. I already told you eight hundred times that I don’t want you looking into this by yourself.”

“You know that I’m perfectly capable of self-preservation.”

“All right, I get it: I’m not. Don’t try to butter me up with subtext, Castiel.” Besides their voices, the only sounds were the twin notes of a chickadee hiding in the brambles that flanked a nearby playground. The air was heavy and warm, and the sky threatened rain. “Now listen: are you really going to spend your energy on how high I’ll flip my lid if I find Sam hurt, and not stop to consider how I’d react to you getting caught off guard just because you didn’t come with backup?”

Cas grew uneasy. “It isn’t that I don’t understand, Gabriel; I just ...” But he didn’t continue.

“I’m going to take the east wing,” Gabriel told him. “You take the west. Let’s scope the place out for those negligent blockheads instead of wasting time.”

A weird case out in some abandoned hospital, Sam had told Gabriel. But pretty routine, it looks like. Doubt it’ll take more than a couple of days.

Cas had had the good sense to trace the brothers’ cell phones. Locating the signal meant two things: one, the phones were turned on and Sam and Dean could have been answering if they wanted to; and two, Cas and Gabriel didn’t have to spend too much time figuring out exactly which drowsy pocket of suburban Idaho hosted the ruins of an orphaned hospital.

Cas and Gabriel strode to the doors together, but Castiel pulled Gabriel back before either could go inside. “Wait.”

“What?” Castiel appeared vaguely uncomfortable. “I … I have my grace.”

“Mazel tov.”

“And you have ... you have ...”

“Not yet clawed my way back to the surface of the pitiful noodle-pond that used to be raw, untethered cosmic power? What, really, are you sure? Because I hadn’t noticed.” He shook Castiel off. “Cut it out. I wouldn’t have followed you if I thought I couldn’t handle my part in the game.”

That was not entirely true, Gabriel acknowledged privately. He wasn’t useful so much as he was expendable: if he could buy them any kind of time, the extent to which he was able to protect himself wouldn’t matter. What was important was that they find Sam and Dean and, if either of the brothers were injured or trapped, ensure their safety.

The doors were not locked, and probably hadn’t been for a long time – partly because the empty building was ideal for anyone who didn’t want to be noticed by police, and partly because crime rates in this town were impressively low.

The lobby offered an unsettling mixture of scents: there was the damp, rotted wood of the front desk; there was rainwater that had leaked through cracks and crevices; they could smell moldy blankets and a warm undernote of something that might have been human decay.

“Let’s split up,” said Gabriel, just as Castiel said, “Let’s stick together.”

“What did I say about east and west?” Gabriel reminded him. “That’s what this is for.” He held up his phone. “I’ll text you to let you know where I am. You do the same. Or, if things get out of hand, call me and use code phrase ‘Bengal cat.’”

“I really think –”

But Gabriel ignored him to follow the metal wall plaque that directed him to the east wing of the hospital.

What he found was disconcerting: several of the beds were stripped, but some displayed carefully folded sheets that had flushed to the color of jaundice. There were rooms full of cots lined up side by side, and others whose beds had been turned over or shoved into corners. A few of the wards, and one stairwell, had old bloodstains on the floor.

A vengeful spirit, we think, Sam had said. Possibly more than one.

Gabriel bent down to peer beneath each bed. He knew that neither Sam nor Dean could lie there undetected, but perhaps he would find clues, something to guide him to their exact whereabouts or to suggest that they were in trouble.

Truthfully, Gabriel hoped he would find nothing. He was not searching for a body, and had no desire to muddy that conviction with anything that would look at home in an evidence bag.

Any luck? Castiel texted.

I found a mouse, Gabriel wrote back.

A mouse?

Neither of them; I checked. It wasn’t wearing plaid.

Half an hour later, Gabriel got in touch again: I can’t find anything. Gonna check the basement.

The message didn’t send. So he tried a second time, and once more it failed to go through.

Gabriel didn’t have much faith in his relationship with modern technology, because there was plenty he had missed during his time in Hell, and he hadn’t taken much time to acquaint himself with the multiplicity of devices that had flooded the world he thought he would never see again. It wasn’t a priority; there was so much else to learn, so much else to figure out.

With reluctance, Gabriel tried communicating with Castiel telepathically. If Cas felt anything, there was nothing to show for it, and Gabriel did not want to exhaust what little grace he might be able to access in case of an emergency. His grace had lately been fluid, unpredictable, and messy; he could rarely anticipate how much he might have at his disposal at any given time.

He could only assume that the message would send sooner or later, that perhaps it was moving slowly because of signal problems.

Not until Gabriel was in the basement did he realize exactly what was in the basement.

He squared his shoulders and reminded himself that of course they had to check the morgue; it made sense. The morgue was like any other section of the hospital, a room that might contain the living as well as the dead – and, perhaps, the not-quite-living and the maybe-dead.

But Gabriel hesitated. There could be no denying the stench of human putrefaction at this point. This was the first time since his arrival that he realized Cas might have been right to worry about him.

So he detached himself and pretended that he was watching another individual press his palms to either of the cold metal doors.

That was when somebody seized him from behind.

“No!” Gabriel screamed, and tried to throw his captor off. Its grip was hard and tight and unforgiving; this grip was confident and hungry, and Gabriel knew what that meant.

For a moment, he wondered how he could have ever confused the cautious warmth of Sam’s hands with the hands of a monster: this kind of touch, this kind of brutality, was fully recognizable as evil.

He tried to kick the thing’s legs and bite its hand. He felt a palm pressed to his mouth and this time not only smelled but tasted the meaty odor of decay.

He screamed into its hand until there was the tang of blood in his throat. He reached inside of himself for his grace, desperate for power that simply wasn’t there.

“Sleep,” the thing whispered into his ear, and Gabriel grew sick with panic. His nightmares were here, alive and real and ugly, and there was no one to help guide him back to a sense of security.

Gabriel could not remember ever wanting Sam as badly as he did in that moment.

The hand on his mouth was so strong he couldn’t breathe. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he didn’t need to breathe in order to survive, but the terror didn’t abate.

He was still screaming, still sobbing, when he opened his eyes and saw that he was lying in bed in an unfamiliar room illuminated by sunshine.

The smell of death was gone, replaced with the cool scent of cleaners and laundry detergents. The carpet was spotlessly white, and in the corner stood a table with a half-empty bottle of wine and four glasses that still had crimson dregs at the bottom.

He choked on his own tears and stole as many quick, ragged breaths as he could.

The door clicked open and he scrambled away, slipping off of the other side of the mattress.

“Gabriel!”

It was a voice he knew, and the arms that lifted him back onto the bed were not the arms of a brute.

Gabriel was shaking and moaning. He knew how helpless and pathetic he sounded, but he also had heard himself make those sounds before.

“You’re all right,” Sam murmured. “Just a bad dream, okay? Just a bad dream. You’re all right.”

“Where am I?” Gabriel rasped. “What happened?”

“Ssh, it’s like I said - I think you just had a nightmare. Sorry, I thought a nap would help you feel better. You wore yourself out setting all this up for us, I think.”

“What are you - ” Gabriel blinked rapidly, shivering and whimpering as he tried not only to form a question but to figure out whether it was even safe to ask. “Set what up? I didn’t - I don’t - ” His eyes flicked over the room, and he knew then what he wanted to say - A non-smoking suite, I see, spic-and-span as Aunt Doris’s pearls - but couldn’t get it out.

Sam seemed at something of a loss. All he could offer was a hand on Gabriel’s arm, trying to steady him.

“Two minutes ago,” Gabriel managed, “I - I was - ” There was the possibility that he had finally broken, had finally lost his mind really and completely; and the thought made him feel dizzy.

But there was a second possibility that slowed his blood to an icy crawl. “Sam?”

“What is it, Gabe?”

“Does Asmodeus have anything to do with this?”

Sam’s voice was gentle. “Hey, no, of course not. He won’t hurt you again, bud."

“He can mess with me; he can screw around with my memory, my perception - ”

“Yes. He used to be able to do that.” Sam gripped Gabriel’s shoulder. “But not anymore. You’re safe, Gabe, I promise.”

“Where am I? Am I still in Idaho?”

“Idaho?” Sam used his sleeve to help wipe Gabriel’s face, and Gabriel didn’t try to resist. “With this many beaches and kangaroos?”

Gabriel shut his eyes. “Jesus O’Malley, we’re in Australia.”

“Yeah. You brought us here, remember? Set up this hotel for us. Everyone else is down at the pool right now. Jack got to hold a koala this morning. You did a lot for us, and I think maybe you’re just exhausted.”

Gabriel shivered. “Sam, did you ever have so much trouble telling them apart? Dreams and - and what’s really happening?”

Sam considered. “I don’t think so.”

“Not even with Lucifer?” Gabriel was desperate for Sam to be right; he longed for confirmation that he really had just tired himself to the point of oblivion. Or perhaps Sam was lying to him and pretending that Gabriel had achieved something of which he had not been capable for hundreds and hundreds of years.

Sam frowned. “With who?”

“You know who. With my skeezewaffle of a brother.”

Sam looked puzzled. “Who, Jack’s dad? I met him twice at most.”

Gabriel simply stared.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“Um. I just … I feel like an idiot.”

“Don’t feel - ”

“This should have been obvious right away.” Gabriel felt his shoulders relax slightly: he was in no danger from Asmodeus, or from his own insanity.

Before Sam could press him, there was a vigorous rapping at the door.

Gabriel swept the heels of his hands over his eyes in a final attempt to dry them. “Is that Africa by Toto?”

Sam sighed and went to open the door.

“Catch!” cried Dean, throwing a towel across the room to land on Gabriel’s head.

Gabriel tore it off. “This is wet, you maniac! I don’t need your cooties.”

“It ain’t my fault if your reflexes are molasses.” Dean was clad only in neon-orange swim trunks. “I figured a whiff of chlorine might wake you up.”

“You’re gross, Dean,” said Sam.

Castiel and Jack stood behind Dean, dressed more modestly with t-shirts over their swim trunks.

“Jack,” Gabriel croaked. He felt a strangely potent sense of relief at the sight of his nephew.

But Cas spoke first. “Are you feeling refreshed? If you’re up to it, we can go out for dinner.”

Gabriel didn’t reply. Instead, he did what he would have done in any situation: he looked at Sam, hoping he would have answers.

“We’ll order in,” Sam said. “It’ll be fun to try some of the local cuisine, don’t you think, Gabriel?”

“I … I guess.”

“Poor guy’s still recovering from last night,” Dean interrupted. “Doesn’t even have his voice back from the karaoke.” He nudged Gabriel, who tensed at the contact. “Don’t worry, I got the best of your performance on video.”

“Really?” exclaimed Jack. “I want to see.”

Dean glanced at Gabriel. “I don’t know if I’d sanction a G rating on that one.”

“Well,” Castiel chimed in, “We had a good night too.”

Jack’s face brightened. “Yeah, Sam and Cas and I had pizza and ice cream and watched the latest Steve Irwin special.”

“Lucky bastard and all his academy awards,” said Dean. “I hear he’s got his own theme park now.”

Jack peered more closely at Gabriel. “Uncle Gabe - have you been crying?”

“No,” said Gabriel.

But Jack looked disturbed. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”

“Really? I mean, uh - I’m fine. I’m okay. I think I might be allergic to Vegemite.”

Jack took a moment to evaluate, then stepped forward and hugged him.

Gabriel froze.

“I love you,” said Jack. “You’re the best.”

It took Gabriel several seconds to remember that he was supposed to hug back. The embrace lingered until he pulled away, before the smell of chlorine and the dampness of Jack’s hair on his cheek could become any more real.

Dean spoke up. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a shower.” He waltzed into the bathroom and shut the door. Then there came the hiss of running water.

Sam groaned. “You can kick him out and make him use the bathroom you set up for him.”

“I think he likes your custom shampoo,” Jack told Gabriel.

“So I suppose after we’ve all freshened up,” said Cas, “We can decide what to do. Or rather, Gabriel, you can decide whether you have any energy to go out. Trust me, no one will feel neglected if you’d prefer to keep things on the quieter side this evening. Oh, and Sam - ” Cas laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “If you aren’t feeling up to anything - ”

“Don’t worry about me, Cas.” Sam smiled. “ I’m fine.”

“I know, but … the last hunt was a lot. You were in pain. So if you’re still feeling the effects, we can lie low tonight. I can make sure that - ”

“Relax. I’m good. It’s like Dean said at breakfast, you’ve done enough for us. All right? No need to keep trying to take care of everyone.”

Gabriel’s gaze flitted back and forth between the two of them. “What hunt are we talking about?”

Sam waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve hardly thought about it since you healed me up. Cas is overreacting. Which I appreciate, but I’m really okay.”

Cas nodded. “All right.” He slid his hand from Sam’s shoulder. “In that case, why don’t Jack and I go back to our room and settle down for a while? I have no reason to suspect that Jack is anything but satisfied with the shampoo in our bathroom.”

Jack smiled at Gabriel, and Gabriel snapped his eyes away.

“So,” Sam began once Jack and Cas had exited the room, “You okay?”

“Yes.” The word came out as a whisper.

“No you’re not,” Sam insisted. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

“I’m … I’m feeling fine, Sam. It’s like you said: just a really awful dream.”

“Do you want me in here with you? I don’t mind sticking around for however long you need me for.”

“I don’t. Obviously I’ve got your brother to keep me company.”

Sam’s eyes flitted to the bathroom door. “He means well, I guess. I think he needed some time off.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Me, my supercharged celestial batteries, and a non-stop flight to the land down under.”

Sam smiled. “I’ll come back to check on you in a little bit, okay? And if Dean gives you any trouble just throw him to the dingoes.”

“Mm. You know I will.”

Gabriel watched Sam exit the room, studiously ignoring the surge of grief at the back of his throat.

He gave himself no time to dwell on what would happen next.

The first place he checked was the bedside drawer. There, he found a copy of the King James Bible that contained what were more than likely Gabriel’s emendations: “Don’t be afraid, Mary,” said the angel, “For you are in favor with Daddy-o. Congratulations, it’s a boy, and you shall call him either Jesus or Scott - I forget which one.”

He moved to the closet, which turned out to be full of clothing better suited for a wedding or seventies-themed disco party than a relaxing weekend away. Which, Gabriel reflected, made sense if he and Dean had decided to take advantage of traits that, in another life, might have led to something like companionship.

When an examination of the closet yielded no results, Gabriel moved to the table and bent over the duffel bag on the chair. When he unzipped it he found swimwear, perhaps his own. There were trunks, a pair of goggles, some flippers.

Sitting on top of the aquatic regalia sat a rectangular box: slim, unassuming, and discreetly coffin-like.

Feeling triumphant, Gabriel lifted the lid.

Then he heard the bathroom door open behind him.

“Don’t,” said Dean.

Gabriel straightened up but didn’t turn around. “It’s not real.”

“It kind of is, man.” The shower was still running. Gabriel could feel the steam coming from the bathroom, as lifelike as anything else he had encountered thus far. “Look, nobody’s trying to force philosophy into what should just be a nice little family getaway, but - ”

“Don’t use that word,” Gabriel snapped.

“What word?”

“Shut up; you know what word. And I agree that we should keep superfluous proselytizing to a minimum.”

“If you do this,” Dean told him, “You’re making it real.”

Gabriel sighed, then turned to face him. Dean had a towel around his waist.

“You know what, sensei?” Gabriel said. “Get back in the shower and don’t watch if it bothers you so much.”

“Once you see how easy it is, Gabe - ”

“It isn’t easy. It’s practical. Listen, pal, I’ve been around long enough to remember how to pop this lock. Getting out of here will be a breeze no matter what shortcuts I gotta take.”

Dean shook his head. “What reason to you have to leave?”

“You know perfectly well what reasons I have.”

“You’re worried about Sammy, right?” There was an odd melancholy in Dean’s face - an expression halfway between resignation and desperation that Gabriel had never seen on him in real life. “Now’s as good a time as any to worry about your own happiness, Gabriel.” Gabriel tensed, annoyed by the warmth of his full name. “You’re allowed to stick around for you if that’s what you want.”

Gabriel swallowed. “It’s not what I want.”

“Really? Just because you know Sam would miss you?”

Gabriel traced his fingers over the flat of the blade as though toying with a Rubik’s cube. “I miss him, too.”

“He’s right here, Gabe.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

“And what’s he going to say when he finds out about this? You have any idea what kind of pain this would cause him? To know what you did to get out? To know how damn easy it was to get your hands on the archangel blade in your deepest fantasies?”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “Who says he has to find out?”

And he raised the knife.

Gabriel remembered very little of what happened after it was done. Somebody lifted him, possibly even tried to carry him - until he fought with such ferocity that the newcomer let go, and Gabriel staggered forward with some assistance.

Somewhere amid the confusion and exhaustion, he registered that there was no odor of death on the arms that guided him. The voice in his ear, saying things like, “Try not to fall over” and “It’s just me,” was soft and familiar.

The next thing of which Gabriel was entirely conscious was waking up in his own bedroom, rolling onto his side, and seeing nobody.

Not real, he thought, but then remembered that it probably was. He had done what needed to be done in order to extract himself from that venomous amusement park with all its perfect temptations.

He pushed off the blankets. Someone had made sure to leave the bedside light on. He was dressed in the same clothes he’d worn on his trip to the hospital. Gabriel felt himself relax slightly: nobody had stripped him down.

When he tried to sit up, he hissed in pain. Peeling back his shirt, Gabriel saw that there were bandages on his abdomen, moistened with blood. Of course - there would not be enough grace for him to heal any injuries sustained during unconsciousness. He hoped it was Sam who had tended to the wound.

That was when Gabriel remembered that Sam could be anywhere, that he might have imagined his presence in the hospital earlier. Panicked, Gabriel forced himself to his feet and ignored the dizziness that came with the sudden movement.

He heard hurried footsteps, and the door slammed open.

“Sit down!” Sam cried, hurrying over to him. “Come on, don’t try to get up - not yet.”

He guided Gabriel back down.

“I’m fine,” said Gabriel. “Just made the fatal mistake of trying to stand up before all my senses had a chance to rehabilitate themselves. Did your spidey senses tingle?”

“No, I - I just heard you moving around.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, willing the vertigo away. “Hey. Potato brains. You told me you were facing down a vengeful spirit.”

“Yeah, we were.” Sam tucked the blankets more securely around Gabriel’s shoulders. “The djinn was the one to kill the guy.”

“Well, didn’t you two just hit the jackpot.”

“You shouldn’t have tried chasing after us, Gabriel.”

“Wasn’t my idea.” Gabriel opened his eyes and focused on Sam’s face. “I didn’t want Cas going solo.”

Sam sighed, looking worried and relieved all at once. He seemed to be waiting for Gabriel to speak.

Finally, Gabriel did. “Look, I’m sorry. I wish I’d been able to defend myself. At the very least to put up a good fight. If my grace levels were anywhere near where they should be, that thing wouldn’t have gotten within two feet of me, let alone into my head.”

“It’s okay. Don’t apologize.”

“How long was I down there, Sam?”

“Not long, I’m pretty sure. We heard you screaming.” Gabriel blinked. “Then you were down there with me? I was on your trail?” Please tell me I did something right.

Sam nodded. “By then, we’d caught on that we might be looking for more than just a pissed-off spirit. Guess you were in the right place at the wrong time, huh?” He forced a smile. “Thanks, but why didn’t you at least wait for backup?”

“Didn’t want to lose time. Cas was half-convinced we were on the prowl for a pair of Winchester-shaped corpses. Sam … in what universe did you think it was okay to ignore us for that long?”

Sam shrugged. “Couple of teenagers stole our phones. And wallets.”

“How hunterly of you to allow adolescent fugitives to make off with your valuables. Why didn’t you at least pray to me or Cas? I mean - I don’t know that I would’ve heard you, my grace being as floppy as it is, but he would have.”

Sam offered another weak smile. “We didn’t think about that, Gabriel. We weren’t in any serious trouble. Why would we ask for help when we didn’t need it?” He peered more closely at Gabriel, whose expression must have betrayed something of which Gabriel was unaware, because Sam added, “Hey, it’s okay; I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be that freaked out. We got everything back in the end, when we - ” He hesitated for a second before concluding. “When we found the kids in the morgue.”

“In the … ah. I see. The rendezvous spot for illicit recreation.”

“Just enough to mortify their God-fearing parents, probably.”

“I’m sure Dad was plenty concerned with their antics. What about Castiel; is he all right? Did he get out?”

“He’s fine. Cas wasn’t hurt.”

“All right. Good to know I’m the only one who can’t look out for myself.”

Sam caught the bitterness in Gabriel’s voice. “Stop.”

“No, actually - ” Gabriel pushed himself up a little straighter. “Don't you want to know what kind of utopic frenzy that bastard cooked up for me?”

Sam was quiet. Then he replied, “Honestly, I kind of do.”

“Good. Because in the interest of science, I want to get it on the record that I can tell you the whole thing without breaking down. As a reward I’ll let myself take home that this didn’t all happen just because I’m brittler than fried seaweed.”

Sam looked pained. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand.”

“No, no, let me see - so I have it on the books - how far I can push myself before sacrificing my dignity to an inflamed maw of shitty memories. First, can I get Sigmund Freudchester’s opinion on something?”

“I … yeah, sure. What?”

“What does it say to you that the djinn made things so that I’d still been held prisoner by Asmodeus?”

Horror passed over Sam’s face. “You were with him? In Hell?”

“No, no, yuck, not with him; it had still happened to me, though, and you were the good egg who kept wasting fuel on the little engine that couldn’t. What’s your take on that? What do you think?”

Sam’s face had gone pale. “I don’t know, Gabriel.”

“Really? Well, I think I do.” There was something manic in Gabriel now, something he couldn’t control. He was, perhaps, a little angry, a little frantic, although he could not have said why. “It just confirms for me that if I had the opportunity to unwrite this script, to change what happened to me, to make it so that I had never been his favorite toy - ”

“You wouldn’t.” Sam looked horrified, but did not sound surprised.

“Exactly,” Gabriel told him. “Because I wasn’t meant to be treated any differently. Getting out of Hell was just a maggot turning into a fly. No real upgrade. And if I didn’t have the courage to actually wish that I was back where I was supposed to be, then I at least had the common decency to take some of what I deserved.”

“Gabriel, please don’t - ”

“I only knew for sure it was just tripe when you came out and said you’d never faced Lucifer. No - wait - you called him ‘Jack’s dad.’ As if you’d signed the adoption papers, bada-bing, bada-boom, the kid’s ours. And Jack - he was so damn innocent, nary a shit to give, just some happy little kid who made it clear how hardcore he loved his uncle. Because Uncle Gabe had the power of freaking kangaroos on hand, and - ”

“Stop.” Sam held up a hand. He seemed to have recovered a little. “You know what the djinn does, don’t you? You’re supposed to - to think that its world is better. You’re supposed to not want to get out.” He paused. “Um …”

“Go ahead,” Gabriel pressed. “You know how I got out.”

Sam looked at him. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

Unconsciously, Gabriel touched his stomach. The wound there was from where the monster had stolen blood. “Let’s just get this out of the way. I know you’re probably angry as Hell about it.”

That seemed to take Sam by surprise. “No! Well - I mean - if you still think about that sometimes; if you … if you can’t help …”

“It’s fine, Sam; I get it. Be pissed.”

“I’m not pissed. I … I mean … do you want me to be mad?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Sam; you do you.”

“Listen, I get that some days are better than others, and that sometimes you’re just not going to … you know …” Sam gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m just trying to say that I know you can’t control what goes through your head. It’s not your fault, that’s all. But I wish you could shake off this idea that you deserved what you got. And that you somehow have to - I don’t know - to make something up to us.”

“Sam,” Gabriel pleaded, “Jack got to hold a koala.”

Sam just laid a hand on his arm, waiting, perhaps, for Gabriel to say more.

“You have every right to be angry,” Gabriel said finally. “You know - you can be upset about the archangel blade. Because you do everything in your power to make me care about myself, and all I do is fight back.”

“Gabriel …” Sam kept his hand in place as he thought about how to respond. “I’m not mad. Really. I’m not. You used it to live. You could have been happy there, but you decided to come back. How could I be angry about that?”

Gabriel tensed. “Uh. I was more thinking along the lines of how easy it was to get to it. It was sitting there in a duffel bag, right where I could grab it in an emergency. You know, you never know when you might need to - to slice open a cantaloupe or …” He trailed off, then cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s the freedom of having the choice. You get that, right? Sort of?”

Sam nodded. “And you made a choice. Look at that.”

Gabriel shivered.

“You cold?” Sam asked.

“No,” Gabriel told him, “Just a wreck. Make a note in the spreadsheet for further evaluation later. This is proving to be an interesting experiment, wouldn’t you say?” He took a deep breath. “I can’t give you what you gave me, Sam. A home. Good memories. A feeling of safety. Somewhere to be afraid without getting hurt in the end. I can’t give that to you or Dean or Cas or Jack.”

“We don’t need those things from you.”

“You need them from someone, Sam, and I owe you at least that much.”

“You need to be - oh, hey - ” Sam withdrew his hand and used the blankets to help dry Gabriel’s face.

“Add it to the log,” Gabriel whispered. “I failed the experiment.”

“It’s okay to be upset. You know that. Crying is probably good for you.”

“You know what else is good for you? Bikram yoga. But it sucks and you look like a clown doing it.” Gabriel shuddered again. “You know - his hands, they felt like - they reminded me of - ”

“Whose hands? The djinn’s?”

“Yes.”

“What about them?”

“They felt like his. And I just - right then, when I felt him - ” Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut and felt a tear trickle over his temple and into his ear. “Sorry - when I felt him, I thought of you. Not because it felt like how it feels when you’re with me, or when you touch me. Because it felt so different.”

“I could lie down with you, if you want.”

Gabriel didn’t answer, and kept his eyes closed. He felt Sam, who had learned to read Gabriel’s silence, recline next to him.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me about?” Sam asked.

Gabriel curled in on himself and cried.

He felt Sam pull him close. “You’re tired, Gabriel. You need some rest. Try and sleep, yeah?”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“Sleep,” Sam repeated.

It sounded so different coming from him.

#supernatural #spn #fanfiction #fanfic #post-asmodeus sabriel feels #pasf #sam winchester #gabriel #sabriel #platonic #friendship #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #djinn #jack kline #castiel #dean winchester #comforting sam winchester #caring sam winchester #protective sam winchester #ptsd #post-traumatic stress disorder #gabriel has ptsd #asmodeus #gabriel lives #post-season 13 #gabriel has issues #gabriel needs a hug #scared gabriel #hurt gabriel

[imsvg]

firsts

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Pairing: MomoJirou (Momo Yaoyorozu/Kyouka Jirou) Words: 2182 Summary: In which Kyouka and Momo share a late-night conversation, leading to something much...greater. Fantasy AU Links: FF is here! AO3 is here!

even though she might never read this bc she doesn't know i write fanfic, s/o to my beautiful gf who helped me through my first year of college and the countless late-night talks we had that inspired me to write this.

"Do you miss home?"

The question is unexpected. Kyouka turns and sees Momo cuddled in her fur blanket, wrapping it around her as tightly as she can to protect herself from the bitter bite of the winter wind. Her nose is red from the cold, its color slowly spreading to her cheeks. As she exhales, her breath materializes momentarily, before it disappears as quickly as it appeared. Her eyes, those warm, brown eyes, shimmer in the silver moonlight, like pools of honey, as she stares straight up into the night sky, fixated.

Kyouka averts her gaze and stares down at the oversized cloak she wrapped around her body. She buries her chin and mouth in its thick fur, curling herself into a smaller ball, bringing her knees closer up to her chest.

"Yeah," she finally says, "I do."

"…How often?"

Kyouka takes time to think. It's strange how her feelings suddenly dissipate once someone asks about them. "I—mm—it's hard to say, really. Sometimes I miss home a lot, other times I don't—up to the point where I don't even think about it."

She hears a soft hum. Kyouka turns her head again, and finds Momo in that exact position. "Do you miss home?" she asks.

Momo moves. She does what Kyouka did, tucking her chin and mouth in her blanket, bringing her knees up against her chest. The bard can hear the faint clink, clink of the knight's armor.

"I do," Momo begins, "but I find it kind of…stupid."

Kyouka raises an eyebrow in slight surprise and interest. "Why do you think that?"

The bard watches as Momo's eyes become unreadable—Kyouka catches hints of somberness and cynicism, but nothing…concrete.

"Because, you know, I don't come from a far place." She laughs. It sounds…degrading, and it sends shivers down Kyouka's spine. "I only live in the neighboring district. I don't come from across the continent like you, or Izuku. Even Iida and Shouto live farther away compared to me, and they only live in the next towns over. I think, if we were to be honest, I don't think I really have a right to be homesick."

The bard is at a loss for words. She sits there, letting the information simmer inside, digesting it slowly. It feels like forever until she finally says, "I…I don't think it's really about who deserves to feel that way or not. I mean, if someone died one way, and someone else died another, in the end, both of them died. Things like this is—mm—is something I think can't be measured by who does and doesn't deserve something. Y-you know?" She turns her head and sees Momo staring at her blanket. The knight seems far away and distant, clearly lost in thought.

Kyouka's body begins to heat up from anxiety. "U-uh, I don't think what I said made sense but—"

"It did." Momo raises her head and gives Kyouka a soft, warm smile. Tension leaves the bard's body, melting away like ice. "It did, don't worry."

"…Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"What do you miss about home?"

"What do I miss…?" Momo repeats the question, but in a way that sounds pensive rather than asking for clarification. A moment passes and she breaks out into laughter. It sounds so rich, so full of life, so unlike her previous one. This one sounds more like Momo, Kyouka thinks to herself.

"My definition of home isn't…orthodox, I guess you can say. I don't think about the place I live in now. I think about the place I used to live in."

"Did you move estates?"

"No, I didn't. I've been living in the same house ever since I was born. But it was different back then. Mother was alive, Father was always there and smiling. The staff laughed with joy whenever they served us. The hearth was always alive as the sun set, keeping the cold at bay. I would sit in between Mother and Father, sharing in their warmth as we watched the flames dance in front of us. They wouldn't wear their armor. They looked like…regular people. They weren't renowned heroes of Yuuei's army, nor were they folk heroes. No titles, no family name to uphold—we were just…people. Like the ones who walk in the market every day."

The nostalgic smile on Momo's face melts away. Something heavy settles in the air, and Kyouka suddenly feels colder.

"It's not the same as it used to be," Momo says softly, "but I wish it was."

Silence settles between them.

It's suffocating. The bard's throat feels like it tied itself into a knot. She struggles to find air and words, no thought coming to mind. Slowly, she turns away, feeling as if she had asked a question she shouldn't have.

"Sorry," is all she says.

Kyouka hears a sigh. "It's fine," Momo says, "it's not your fault."

"Still, I probably shouldn't have asked in the first place."

A weight rests on Kyouka's shoulder. Strands of wild, black hair tickle the side of her cheek. Something rich and vibrant, like perfume, hits Kyouka's sense of smell, filling up her lungs and chest with something…warm, sweet, like caramelized sugar.

"I think talking about it made me feel a little bit better about it," Momo says, her voice carrying soft vibrations that run down Kyouka's arm.

Subconscious tension leaves the bard's body. She relaxes, and gingerly, places her face on top of Momo's head. They stay like that, wrapped up in their blankets and cloaks, sharing what little warmth they can with one another. They stare at the sky together, in silence, watching the stars wink at them from their place in the heavens. Kyouka recalls the vague shapes she memorized diligently when she was a child, sitting underneath the night sky with her parents as her mother sang songs of myths and legends and her father plucked his lute.

"—ka? —ouka? Kyouka?"

"H-huh? Wh-wha?" She blinks, and notices Momo lifted her head to stare at her quizzically.

"Are you okay?" the knight asks.

"Y-yeah. I was just…lost in my thoughts, sorry."

Momo nods understandingly, the look of concern melting off of her face. "I'm guessing you didn't hear what I said, then," she says with a playful smile.

Kyouka feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "N-no. S-sorry."

"It's fine, don't worry." Momo readjusts herself and places her head back on Kyouka's shoulder. "I asked what you missed about home."

"The food," she says without hesitation. "I mean, I know that the food here is, comparatively, way better, but the food from back home has something else that…this place doesn't have for me, yet. And—and I think it's the fact it's missing warmth. N-not like literal warmth; you know, more like the emotional kind. And I think it's because of this lack of warmth that I miss my parents' stories."

"Their…stories? Like, the stories they told during their travels?"

"Yeah. They'd recite epics and poems and songs and myths and legends from memory when I was a kid. They would sing and dance, and I would learn their craft. And while I learned how to play lute, they would recount tales of when they sailed across the sea and traveled throughout the continent in troupes and adventuring groups, performing in streets and pubs. It was all so normal and so mundane compared to the other stories they would tell me, but I always thought their stories were the most fantastical of all."

Momo laughs again, this one soft and delicate like an aria. "They sound like amazing people," she says quietly.

Kyouka feels her face flush. It's not in the usual, embarrassed way, however; this is something full of pride, full of honor. For the first time ever since she came to Yuuei, Kyouka finds herself taking pride in her roots. For once, there is no shame about her lack of training, money, nor luxury. For once, she doesn't feel the need to hide herself, her stories, and her talent.

For once, she actually feels proud to be who she is.

"Yeah," she says with a small smile, "they are."

The weight on Kyouka's shoulder is lifted, and the bard turns to see the knight staring at her. Kyouka takes in the way the moon shines down on Momo, silver moonlight gleaming off of her plate armor, causing those brilliant brown eyes to shimmer like gems. The knight's wild black hair sways in the soft wind, individual strands dancing as she continues to stare at the bard, and Kyouka swears she's looking at a goddess, like the ones her parents would sing of. There's something about Momo that makes her seem…ethereal, other-wordly, as if she was plucked from the heavens and planted gently on this mortal realm.

Kyouka's lungs ache because she forgets how to breathe. She releases the breath she's been holding for so long, exhaling softly, but it hitches in her throat when she feels something cold kissing her warm cheek. She reaches up and grabs onto Momo's hand, wrapping her fingers around the cold knight's.

"And you," Momo begins quietly, "you're just as amazing."

"No," Kyouka says with a breathless laugh, "you are."

Momo returns the same laugh, and it's only then does Kyouka realize how close they are to one another. She can feel the knight's warmth, her scent, her forehead pressing against hers…with every passing moment, they get closer and closer, their noses brushing against one another, lips sharing the same breath—

Kyouka feels her heart beating in her skull, her chest. It's erratic, pumping blood and adrenaline throughout her body, warming her face and ears, coloring her cheeks, pushing her closer and closer and closer and closer—

Their lips touch, and suddenly Kyouka doesn't know how to function. She feels entranced, as if she's under a spell, as if she lost control of everything. Her heart beats faster than ever, rattling inside of her ribcage, its beat reverberating throughout her body. Her lungs forget how to breathe again, but she doesn't care, not when she's kissing—oh gods, she's kissing Momo, she's actually kissing Momo, and her lips are chapped, but so, so soft, and they're moving against hers, and Momo moves her hand to pull her just a little bit closer, and—

They break away. Kyouka sucks in a breath through her nose, the cold air doing nothing to cool her down. Her heart is rampaging in her chest, and she swears she might pass out at any moment, because by the gods she just kissed Momo—

"Are you okay?" Momo asks, her warm breath buffeting Kyouka's lips as she pulls back her hand.

The bard blinks, remembering where she is, before saying, "Y-yeah. I just—wow." She pulls back a little more and runs a hand through her hair, laughing breathlessly. "Wow."

"Is…that a bad 'wow?'"

"N-no! I'm just—wow—I'm just—that's…I've never done something like that before. I'm just kind of—blown away, is all. I-in a good way, of course." Kyouka clears her throat, embarrassed at her blunders. "A-are you okay?"

Momo smiles, and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "More than okay. If I'm being honest I've, mm"—she turns away, her cheeks turning as red as Ejirou's hair—"been wanting to do that for a while."

Kyouka feels her face heating up. "Y-you have?"

"I—I know it's strange I just—couldn't help feeling that way. You just…make me feel safe. I don't know how else to describe it. There's just something about you—I don't know if it's your songs or your voice or just your mere presence—but I just feel so…so safe every time I'm with you. Like nothing could go wrong. Like…like you're home." The knight looks up, almost sheepishly, and quietly asks, "Does that make sense?"

A crooked smile tugs on Kyouka's lips. "It does. Because I feel the same way whenever I'm with you, too."

"Do you?" Momo's eyes widen with surprise.

"I do," is all the bard says before she twines their fingers together.

"…So what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do we do now? Are we…you know…."

The suggestion makes the tips of Kyouka's ears burn. "H-honestly, I don't know. But what I do know," she continues, squeezing Momo's hand in hers, "is that I want to stay by your side. And I don't want to lose you."

The knight smiles, then nods. "I want that, too."

Nothing else is said between them after. They continue sitting there, just as they had been throughout the night, but Kyouka notices differences. They're closer together, their hands are locked together, and there is something burning in Kyouka's chest, like an ember, sitting underneath her heart.

The bard doesn't know what love feels like. But as she sits next to the knight, holding her close, Kyouka wonders if this is the beginning of something similar.

The thought makes her smile.

it's been a hot second since i last wrote anything, so i'm really sorry if i'm rusty. i guess you can say that this is a continuation of the first MomoJirou fic I wrote a while back, but I wrote them kind of independently from one another. I remember mentioning a whole fantasy AU I was writing for BNHA, and while my motivation for that has kind of wavered, im on summer break from college now. so maybe i'll be able to put smth up for that? im just not sure what course i want to take for that story. it sux.

but anyways, i hope you enjoyed this oneshot. if you want more of these two in this particular universe, please let me know! i'd love to flesh out the whole fantasy au with just these two to give me some sort of foundation for the bigger project.

thank you for reading! i love you!

#i write #momojirou #jiroumomo #momo yaoyorozu #jirou kyouka #bnha #bnha fanfic #wlw

[spidergwenstefani]

Finals Week

This is a really self-indulgent semi sequel to this ficlet I wrote a little while ago about theatre major Bucky and frat bro Clint. Apparently this is gonna be the AU i use for pointless fluffy comfort now bc I’m stressed with finals essays and these boys are helping.

I definitely shifted some background characters around since the last fic sorry steve but i don’t super care so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Bucky spins his desk chair around in a lazy circle, watching the moon shining through his apartment window blur into a bright stripe with the rest of his surroundings. Someone on the floor above him has tuned their Spotify to some kind of low-fi study playlist, and Bucky feels genuinely relaxed for the first time in… months, actually.

This last week has been rough. Nearly all of his finals ended up scheduled on the same Friday and Natasha had to actually hold him back from leaping out the library window on Thursday night. It worked out alright. The Lighting Design 201 presentation had gone off shockingly well, the History of Stage Design final was way easier than expected, and his group project for Gender in Shakespeare really pulled through in the end. He half-assed the conclusion for his Dramaturgy essay, but there was only so much he could say about August Wilson without the professor realizing he was just spitting his class notes back at him. So now he’s done. A whole five days before the semester ends, too. It feels like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off Bucky’s shoulders. He hums along to the slow jam echoing down from his upstairs neighbor, scooping up his phone to check his messages.

Nat (3 hours ago) Congrats on being done with finals

Nat (3 hours ago) If you didn’t turn that gd Fences essay in on time I will climb in through your window and strangle you in your sleep

Steve (2 hours ago) Hey! Me and some buddies were planning on going out for pizza around 7 tomorrow. Do you wanna come with? You can bring Clint so you don’t have to listen to grad students all night.

Steve (2 hours ago) Please say yes. I don’t want to listen to grad students all night.

Nat (42 minutes ago) Have you heard from Clint? He hasn’t answered my texts in hours. Not sure if I should be concerned

Nat (40 minutes ago) Send him a dick pic and see if that gets a response

Clint (3 minutes ago) im fckin dropping uot

Bucky ignores Steve and Natasha for now, typing out a quick response to Clint.

Bucky Well I’m done with finals

Bucky Can I convince you to stay in college with some fantastic Fuck Dramaturgy victory sex?

Clint i dont kno what htat is

Bucky I’ve explained Dramaturgy to you like five times

Clint i cant remembr

Clint what day is it

Clint bucky im dyin :’(

Bucky rolls his eyes, grabbing the keys off his desk and pulling on his sneakers. He would have preferred to avoid the Greek side of campus today if at all possible, but he has an idiot boyfriend to console.

Bucky omw

>>==========>

Beta Theta Pi is, as far as frat houses go, not the absolute worst. It had still been kind of a shock when Bucky realized Clint actually lives up to his frat bro vibes. Not only lives up to them but embraces them with the same enthusiasm Clint has for any other thing he cares about. Bucky could probably do PR for the Beta charity drives by now after how much Clint has gushed about them. Lord knows he’d do a better job than fucking Pietro.

Bruce answers the door on Bucky’s third knock, looking surprised to see him and vaguely stoned.

“Bucky?” he says after he gets a few blinks out of his system. Bucky wonders if it’s such a good idea to be smoking in his letterman jacket. Coach Fury’s been known to have a nose like a bloodhound. “Clint didn’t say you were coming over.”

“Has he said anything at all in the last twelve hours?” Bucky asks, shouldering past Bruce because he knows he won’t move on his own. Bruce is actually his favorite of Clint’s brothers. He’s chiller than any offensive lineman has a right to be. He does yoga, for fuck's sake. It’s probably the copious amounts of weed that mellow him out in the end, though.

“I dunno,” Bruce says, still blinking his way back to the present. He gives Bucky a slow smile as he shuts the door behind them. “Do you want tea? I made tea.”

“Maybe later,” Bucky says, because he’s just spotted Rumlow studying at the dining table and that’s the one Beta guy he genuinely doesn’t want to see today. He heads for the stairs.

“Wanna play Smash Bros?” Bruce asks as Bucky bolts for the second floor.

“Maybe later,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Clint’s room is at the far end of the hallway, and Bucky frowns at the closed door. Clint’s the kind of endearingly codependent guy that keeps his door open unless absolutely necessary, never wanting to miss out on anything that might be blocked by a thin layer of wood.

He knocks more as a warning than anything, letting himself in and shutting the door softly behind him. All the lights are off and nothing but moonlight illuminates Clint spread dramatically across the floor, staring up at his ceiling fan like he’s hoping it’ll fall on him.

“Fucking Christ,” Bucky mutters, mostly because he’s not sure Clint even heard him come in.

“I’m gonna die,” Clint answers from the floor. “Statistics is actually gonna kill me.”

“You can’t die,” Bucky says, leaning back against the door. “My mom will be crushed if I don’t bring you home for spring break.” The moonlight is making the angles of Clint’s face look especially soft, and Bucky takes a moment to watch him pout before sinking down onto the floor.

“No, it’s too late. I’m dying,” Clint says, shifting to make room on the rug as Bucky crawls over to him. He wraps his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and plants a quick kiss on his forehead before turning his glazed look back up at the ceiling fan. “You’ll come to my funeral, right?”

“Obviously,” Bucky snorts, sliding his hands under Clint’s t-shirt. He knows his fingers are ice cold, but Clint doesn’t even flinch.

“Wear black, okay? Something sexy, so my enemies get jealous of the hot piece of ass I bagged before kicking the bucket.”

“Should I cry?” Clint hasn’t seen Bucky act yet, but he’s totally going to audition for The Laramie Project next semester and blow his fucking mind.

“As much as possible. Maybe mention how much you’ll miss my massive dick.”

“I will,” Bucky says emphatically. He looks up at the ceiling fan and takes a deep breath, doing his best to bring tears to his eyes. “I’ll never love another dick as much as I loved his.” Bucky’s voice comes out impressively choked up. “I’m cursed to a life of longing. The only man who can satisfy me is lost forever.” Bucky blinks a single tear down his cheek, and Clint’s staring at him when he finally turns back.

“Holy shit,” Clint says, moving to wipe at Bucky’s cheeks like he’s actually worried about him. “Do exactly that, please. When did you learn how to cry on command?”

“When my third sister was born,” Bucky answers smugly. “I didn’t appreciate how much more attention tutus and pigtails got, so I had to find my own edge.”

“Becca’s sent me a few pictures that say you still cashed in on tutus and pigtails.” Clint rolls onto his side so he can face Bucky better, pulling him closer with a hand around his waist.

“I rocked those butterfly clips better than she could ever dream,” Bucky says, and Clint buries his laugh in Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky runs a hand up and down Clint’s back. “What day is your Stats final?” That earns him a despondent groan.

“Monday. I’m so gonna fail.” Clint’s voice is muffled by Bucky’s sweatshirt. “Why the fuck did I decide on a Business major?”

“Because you’re smart,” Bucky insists. Clint shakes his head weakly against his shoulder and Bucky smacks him lightly on the arm. “You are. You’re smart and practical, and once you have your diploma you and Nat can move to New York and open your gym.”

Clint mumbles something into his sweatshirt that Bucky doesn’t quite catch.

“What?” he asks, and he tugs the back of Clint’s shirt just enough to get him to scoot backward and speak clearly.

“I said you’ll be there too,” Clint repeats, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Bucky’s side and making an effort to keep his eyes anywhere but on Bucky’s. “Designing costumes on Broadway. Having a meltdown every other day.”

“Exactly,” Bucky says, and Clint looks up long enough to give him a hesitant smile. “And on tech week I’ll gripe to you all night long and make you rub my feet.”

“Sounds like a dream,” Clint says, and his voice is too soft to be joking. Bucky leans forward to kiss him. Clint brings his hand up to Bucky’s face, brushing his thumb over his cheek while they lose themselves for a moment or two.

“It’ll be awesome,” Bucky says once he’s pulled away. “And all you have to do is pass one dumb Stats final. It’s all easy street after that.”

“No it’s not,” Clint says, but his face doesn’t seem quite as pinched with worry. Bucky shrugs one shoulder.

“Maybe not, but this is all you have to think about right now. And even if you don’t pass, which you will, Momma Barnes will be waiting at the train station, ready to fill that void of disappointment with cookies and brisket. They offer Stats over the summer. You can even get Bruce to help you study.”

Clint smiles a little easier and presses a kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“Bruce offered to help me study earlier this week, actually.” Bucky raises his eyebrows at him.

“And you’re not taking him up on it? Bruce is pretty much Einstein. You know that, right? What are you doing in here when you could be getting schooled on Stats in the library?”

“Well, you’re here,” Clint says and Bucky just knows his smile goes all dopey at that. “And I think even Einstein would struggle with Stats after smoking that much weed.”

“You’ll study with him tomorrow though, right?” Bucky’s not going to let Clint throw him off that easy. Clint rolls his eyes, but he nods. “Steve invited us to get pizza tomorrow. I’ll pay, as a reward for studying.”

“Steve invited us, or Steve invited you?” Clint asks, scrunching up his nose. Bucky snorts, shoving at Clint half-heartedly.

“Steve invited us. To go out with him and his friends. I dunno why you hate him so much. He thinks you’re pretty cool.”

“I don’t hate him,” Clint says defensively, but he still shifts forward to wrap his arms possessively around Bucky. “I just want to make sure he knows that the position of Bucky’s Buff Blond Boyfriend is already happily filled. Also, fuck him. I’m really cool.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky says. He’s kind of stuck in Clint’s steel trap of a hug. “It’s not like that. First of all, I don’t date grad students, and second of all we totally have more of a big brother-little brother sort of thing going on. I think he’s more into Tony, anyway.”

“Aw, gross,” Clint laughs, letting Bucky out of his death grip. “They deserve each other.”

“People probably say the same thing about us,” Bucky says. Clint grins at him, opening his mouth to share some kind of smart-ass response. A knock on the door cuts him off and makes them both jump.

“Do you guys have pants on?” Bruce’s voice comes through the door way louder than necessary. “If you don’t, sorry. Keep doing your thing or whatever. We’re starting a new Smash tournament, though, if you wanna join.”

“No, Bruce. C’mon man,” Bucky hears Sam say, and there’s the sound of scuffling feet like Sam’s trying to yank Bruce back from the door. “They’re probably having their own Smash tournament in there.”

“Bucky would have invited me,” Bruce insists, and Clint sits up with a laugh.

“We have pants on, Bruce,” he calls, and the door opens a moment later.

“Are you guys just sitting in the dark?” Bruce frowns down at Bucky, who’s still sprawled across the rug.

“Yeah,” Clint says, and then because he catches Bucky’s meaningful look, “Are you busy tomorrow? Think you could help me with Stats?”

“Yeah,” Bruce says, smiling easily. Bucky thinks Clint looks relieved, like he actually thought Bruce might say no. “We can go to the library.”

“Alright, Bruce.” Bucky stands up, offering a hand and hauling Clint to his feet too. “Let’s smash. I call the pink controller.”

#my fics #winterhawk #rated: g #college au #wait have I been remembering to rate my fics lately #i didn't even realize i was making a hulk smash pun until the very end #i was just thinking about all the frat houses ive been to where they do nothing but play super smash bros #also clint is definitely the friend that switches off autocorrect despite needing it the most #im sorry if his shitty texting hurts anyone's brain

[cami-chats]

A Family Man

Chapter One (of 2)

Fandom: Charmed, Supernatural (yes it’s a crossover)

Pairings: Piper Halliwell/Dean Winchester

Warnings: None, except maybe some Leo bashing bc really what tf was that

Piper was obviously pregnant. Her other kid was around a year old, so she was almost certainly still with the father, whoever that might be. She didn't wear a wedding ring, but some people didn't, and besides, Dean had heard that pregnancy made your fingers swell up so it was possible that she did usually wear her ring, she just couldn't right now. Anyways, the point was that she wasn't interested in anyone-- let alone Dean-- but there was no harm in looking. Especially when she was that gorgeous. It wasn't a model sort of beauty like Dean used to shoot for when he was hunting and dropping by bars for some diversion, but she was undoubtedly gorgeous.

With the yellow eyed demon gone and Sam back at college, Dean needed to do something with his life, and living on the run with a string of crimes following him wasn't as appealing as it used to be. Working at a nightclub wasn't exactly settling down, but at least he had a legitimate work history now. Besides, P3 was great, and Piper hadn't blinked at giving him his first several paychecks in cash before he had enough to open a bank account.

Funny as it was to think about, he was bonafide now. Sam would bust out laughing if he could see him now. Then again, Sam was a can of worms he didn't want to mess with right now. Or any time soon. He unlocked the door and started down the stairs, hesitating in one of his steps when he saw Piper sitting at the bar, head hung at whatever she was thinking about.

"Piper? What are you doing here so early?"

She startled, but in the next moment, she seemed perfectly at ease, turning around to smile at him. "Hey Dean. I was-" she gestured vaguely, "talking to Chris."

"Chris is here?" Dean asked hopefully. Chris was always happy to see him, and he was probably the best friend Dean had right now.

"He just left."

"Damn." At Piper's bemused look, he added, "I like him. Guy's my only friend around here."

"Huh." She had her head cocked slightly, like she was putting together a puzzle that Dean couldn't see.

"Uh... something wrong with that?" he asked, a little nervous. Chris felt like his best connection to the normal world, but Piper was his boss; if she fired him, he was screwed, and he wasn’t sure his friendship with Chris was good enough to risk his life for.

"No, of course not. It's just, Chris doesn't get along with... people. Not usually anyways."

"Must mean I'm special," he joked, smirking.

Piper seemed to take him seriously though, her expression thoughtful. "Must be. You want some help setting up?" she offered, already getting out of her seat.

"You don't have to, I'm fine."

"You know, between you and my family, I'm liable to blow something up if I keep getting side-lined like this."

Dean shrugged. "It's your club, do what you want."

Piper raised an eyebrow, trying to project snootiness though she was obviously amused. "I will."

After a minute, Piper put on some music to pump through the speakers. Weird as it might sound, Dean had the best prep shift ever. He didn't really think about it through the dancing-along's and mouthing-the-word's party they had on the fly. "It's been a while since I've had this much fun," Piper said.

"Me too, "he admitted. And what fun he had had in the past was often interspersed with hunts that went to hell, so the memories were sour to him. Even his time with Sam hadn’t been like this, with Sam always trying to keep them going so he could get back to his ‘real’ life. Any time Dean had tried to make light of the situation, Sam had glared at him or gotten all moody.

"With Leo and everything," she started to explain before trailing off as her happy mood faltered.

"Who's Leo?"

"Ex-husband," she said, making a face. She ran a hand over her swelling stomach, and Dean could imagine what that 'everything' entailed. Learning that she was single had no victory since she was clearly left in a bad spot by it.

"Sounds like an asshole," he said flatly. Say what you want about John Winchester, but at least he'd loved his wife.

"You don't know anything about him," Piper said, but she was holding back laughter.

"Going from your reaction, I'm guessing he left you. Right?"

Still looking amused, she nodded.

Dean shrugged. "Then he's an asshole."

Piper laughed, looking lighter for it. "It's not actually that simple, but... thanks. I can't really talk to anyone else about it. I mean, I could, but I don't want to unload to my sisters about it. They'd try to make it better, and he'd be around for a bit, and then he'd leave again to work for the 'greater good'."

"Bastard sounds like my dad," Dean said. Oh John had been obsessed with revenge, but he'd made the decision to sacrifice his sons' childhoods so that other families wouldn't suffer the way he had. The way 'they' had suffered was how he phrased it, of course. Dean had thought about it a lot since he and Sammy went their different ways after ganking the monster, and he still didn't know how he felt about it, because it wasn’t just their childhoods that had been messed with, it was their entire lives.

"Sounds complicated."

Dean snorted. "That ain't the half of it." He shook off the topic and tried a smile. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem. It's nice to feel useful for once."

"He must be crazy to leave you behind," Dean muttered, not really meaning to.

The way Piper looked at him though, it was clear that she'd heard.

Dean cleared his throat, blushing. God it had been so long since he'd blushed that it only served to make him more nervous. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a charged moment where they looked at each other.

It wasn't actually a surprise in the moment that it happened, but leading up to it confused him. Piper was shorter than him by half a foot, so she had to lean up and pull his face down to meet her in order to reach. She was kissing him, and there was none of the vibrant electricity all his past relationships had demanded. This was soft and comfortable, and he leaned down further so she wasn't straining. His hands went to her hips automatically, and he could just barely feel the swell of her stomach against his palms.

"I um," Piper licked her lips as they stopped. "I hope that wasn't inappropriate of me."

"I'm pretty sure I was the one that hit on you."

"Still, I'm your boss. If you're worried this might affect your job-"

"It won't." Dean kissed her again, and for an instant she kissed him back.

She pulled back abruptly, taking a few steps to give him space. "I have a child. I'm about to have another."

"I know. Wyatt's a great kid. I'd like-" Dean stopped, rubbed his hand over his jaw and tried again. "If you'd let me, I think I could be decent at the whole family thing. If that's what you want."

"It's complicated," she said with a sad smile. She wanted to give in, that much was clear, but with (almost) two children, she had more at stake than her heart.

"What isn't? I just-" Dean swallowed, "I think this could work if we tried."

"My life is... it's too complicated, Dean. I can't drag you into that."

Sensing that her mind was made up, Dean nodded. "Right." He looked away, feeling hot and embarrassed. "If that's how you feel then-." He nodded again. "I uh, should go unlock the door for the crew, they'll be here soon."

"Sounds good," Piper said, and he ignored the strain in her voice since she'd been nice enough to not point out the one in his.

He was in a bit of a mood for the rest of the night, but he was pretty sure no one noticed. It's not like he blamed Piper for her choice-- she did have children and her closely-knit family to consider amongst whatever other family drama they had-- but it was still depressing. He hadn't thought he had a chance for so long, and then for one great moment, he'd had it. Even better, Piper was the one that had kissed him, not the other way around. This is what real life was like though right? Relationships didn't get out of the starting gate, and his biggest worry was whether or not the pizza place down the road from his apartment would be open by the time he got home.

He got to leave promptly when the actual concert started, so he made it back with plenty of time to grab a pizza. Absolutely delicious, cheap, dripping grease pizza. He felt better just thinking about it. He didn't want to subject Baby's seat to that though, so he parked in the apartment's garage and walked the half-block over.

As soon as he was out the door, he folded a piece in half and shoved it in his mouth, juggling the box for a moment as he closed it and got everything back in order. Pizza couldn't fix everything, but that's where pie came in, to fix the other half. He didn't have pie though, so this would have to do for tonight.

He turned on the tv and polished off the rest of the box. Then he realized that he was still in jeans and changed into sleep pants, shucking off his shirt and throwing it in the laundry hamper-- because he had a laundry hamper now, that was the kind of turn his life had taken. He sat back on the couch and wondered if he should even attempt sleeping yet. It wasn't too late, and he was used to staying up for a few more hours when he was closing at P3. Laying in bed might be pointless and only serve to make it harder to get to sleep.

A knock came at the door, and he frowned. A few people knew where he lived, but it's not like they ever visited. Chances were it was someone who had the wrong apartment, a common problem with half the numbers peeled or missing from the doors. He looked through the peephole out of habit, then frowned at what he saw: Piper. Why was Piper at his doorstep?

He unhooked the chain and unlocked the door, opening it slowly. "Piper? What are you doing here?"

"I was hoping we could talk. About earlier."

Dean's frown deepened, even as he opened the door wider to let her in. "I thought we said everything we needed to."

"Not really." She ran a hand through her hair as she walked in, the long strands seamlessly falling into their new place.

He closed the door but didn't lock it, not wanting her to feel confined.

"Listen," she said, turning to him. She hesitated, eyes trailing over his bare torso. Her cheeks pinked, but she brought her eyes back up to his face like it didn't happen. "My family requires a lot from me, and from anyone I'm dating. Leo-- my ex-husband-- he knew about the details from the start so I didn't have to worry about it, and it just seems like every time I find someone new, they can't handle it."

"I think you'd be surprised at how much I can take." He crossed his arms over his chest, and Piper's eyes flickered down automatically.

"I'd love to find out, but it. It's too big a risk."

"You said that earlier, Piper," he said, not judging. "We already talked about this, why are you here?"

She hesitated, and he understood: she wanted to give in, but she needed to be convinced, for him to take the first step.

He swallowed, wondering if this was the right decision but knowing he was going to try it anyways. "You know, it doesn't have to be that serious. We can... try it on. See if it goes anywhere, and deal with the problems as they come."

"I have a kid," she reminded him, but it was obvious now that she felt that she needed to remind him, not that it was a denial.

"That doesn't mean you can't have fun."

"Pregnant ladies don't really get to have fun if it's not about the pregnancy."

"Says who?" Dean made a show of looking around the apartment, then stepped closer so they were in the same space. "I don't see anyone here but you and me."

He started to lean down, giving her plenty of time to change her mind. Plenty of time to say 'actually you know what I was wrong, sorry'. But she didn't. She tilted her head up, smiling slightly when he bumped their noses together teasingly before pressing their lips together. It shouldn't have been a life-changing moment, but the way they molded together felt like something he'd been missing his whole life. One of her hands came up to help hold him in place, her fingers curling around the back of his neck. Her other hand went up to his arm, curving to the skin easily as he put his hand in the middle of her back and pulled her closer.

It had been a long time since Dean kissed someone for so long his lips started to feel sore, but here it was, happening to him as a grown-ass adult. He had an ache in his back from leaning down for so long, but he didn't want to stop. He felt absolutely desperate, his cock hard and straining against his boxer-briefs, and his best comfort was that Piper didn't look much better. Her pupils were blown wide, and her cheeks were stained red with want. Both of their lips were swollen from kissing for so long. Taking a chance, Dean asked, "Do you want to come to my room?"

"Yes," she said immediately, before he had time to worry that he was pushing for too much. It was a small place, so they were in his room a few seconds later.

"Can I take this off?" Dean asked, sliding his hands under her shirt on the sides. In response, she lifted her arms, so Dean picked up the edges and pulled it up. His eyes roved over her skin, and he followed it with his hands a moment later when he realized he could. "You're gorgeous," he breathed. He kissed her again, fingers playing with the clasp on her bra in question.

She gave his arms a squeeze in answer, and he flicked his fingers, undoing it. Piper stepped back and dropped it on the ground, then pushed her pants past her hips and climbed on his bed. She lay there, head propped up on pillows and legs slightly spread showing trimmed pubic hair and a glistening entrance.

"So fucking gorgeous," he muttered, pushing his pants and underwear down in one go. He knew it would be smarter to grab a condom and lube now, but he wanted to kiss her again and nothing was going to stop him from doing that.

Piper groaned, one of her legs curving over Dean in an instinctual bid to keep him there. "Dean," she gasped. "Please."

"Sorry," he said quickly, giving her a quick peck. "Didn't mean to tease. Just can't stop kissing you." He kissed her cheek three times in rapid succession, causing her to giggle. He grinned, giving her one last kiss before rolling off her and rifling through the nightstand. He opened a condom packet, then hesitated before putting it on. "You sure you want this?"

Instead of making some sort of joke about how ready she was, she grinned at him. She had a few crooked teeth, and in the light of the streetlamps, it was obvious she was pregnant. Her hair was half stuck under her back and half splayed out on his cheap sheets. Dean had never wanted someone more. "I'm sure," she said. "Come on and show me how good our relationship can be."

He grinned back at her. "I can do that, no problem." He rolled on the condom, following it with a little lube just to be safe. Once he was back between her legs, she bent her knees to make the angle better. He slid inside slowly, knowing that he could go faster but wanting to take his time. Piper was warm and wet, and he wanted this to last forever at the same time he wanted to fuck her hard and give both of them the completion they were craving.

Dean rocked into her, responding to each of her gasps of pleasure with a moan of his own. It was slow and sweet, building up so leisurely that he was almost surprised when he came, grinding their hips together as she clutched at his shoulders.

"God, Dean, that was," she trailed off with an appreciative laugh.

Feeling very proud of himself, he smiled, giving her another kiss. "Yeah." Laying on top of her was lots of fun for him, but certainly less for her, so he rolled to the side, carefully taking the condom off so he wouldn't make a mess.

"Mm." Her eyes closed, and she looked like she wanted nothing more than to fall asleep just as she was. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure. It's just right over there," he said unnecessarily, pointing in its direction.

"Thanks." She pushed herself up and went over. After she peed, she walked back over and sat on the bed.

"You can stay if you want." He'd prefer it that way, of course, but they'd agreed that this didn't have to be serious.

Piper thought it over, then laid down. "Maybe for a little bit." She stretched her arms with a satisfied groan, and Dean took the chance to use the bathroom himself and get cleaned up. He went back to the living room and locked the door.

He'd expected for it to be awkward when he got back because that's what he was used to, but there was a comfortable air in the room when he got under the covers with her. Getting to sleep had always been easier after sex, and this time was no exception.

It was a rude awakening when a phone started ringing, echoing in the sparsely decorated room. "What the-" He reached for his on the nightstand automatically, but it was silent.

Piper groaned, throwing the covers off of her and rifling through her pant's pockets on the ground until she found it. She flicked it open with an annoyed, "What?" as she sat back on the bed. "Yeah, I'm fine. Is something wrong? Was there an attack?" Pause. "Then why-?" She blew out a breath. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I forgot to call. No I'll be home in a little bit." She rolled her eyes as she got back up and started picking up her clothes. "Don't come get me, I drove. I swear to god Paige, you worry more than Chris. Yeah yeah, I love you too." She hung up and rubbed her eyes.

"Everything okay?" Dean asked, voice rough from sleep.

"Yeah, my family's just worried. I forgot to tell them I wouldn't be by until late."

Dean checked his clock. They hadn't been asleep more than an hour, which explained why he felt so stupidly tired right now. He ran a hand over his face, then sat up. He grabbed a pair of underwear and slid them on, then helped Piper gather the rest of her clothes.

"Thanks," she said, then again when she was at the door. She pulled him down for another kiss. "I had a great time. See you around?"

"Definitely. Have a safe drive."

They smiled at each other again, and she left, hair softly tousled in a way that made Dean's heart ache.

#charmed #spn #piper halliwell #dean winchester #fanfic #my writing

[icharchivist]

Oh no I agree w/you on not being hard on fans who think differently. One of the reasons I like fan discussions is to read other people's thoughts and try to understand where the ones I disagree w/are coming from. That's just my personal view and reading of the character. I think lately the stress has been getting to Chaoji so he's extra harsh and that's going to be unattractive to Allen's friends. I also think he's wording things the wrong way. It'd be better if he said I'll fight the Noah -

2 instead of I'll fight Allen or telling Allen's friends to forget about him. In this way Chaoji is, whether he means to or not, making it sound like Allen is JUST a Noah. Which.... Is actually a interesting thought. What does the average person think how a Noah works? Does he think Allen is 100% gone now? *shrugs* Either way agree to disagree on some parts. I have no probs w/fans so forgive me if it sounded I was harsh to them. I was just naming of groups I saw and thought it was interesting.

Ahh alright, sorry then for the lecture! it’s fine, don’t worry now that it’s cleared up. 

I think i’m getting a little paranoid of some fandom arguments? especially when it starts to involve how some fans react to some controversial events. Bigger fandoms have been so filled with dramas (there had been a lot of push back against people liking not pure uwu characters that i get defensive at the idea of judging how someone may approach a controversial character they may like) i tend to end up having red flags over silly things i would probably have used myself a few years back. 

Your argument was fine, and honestly pretty mild in that term, i guess i’ve just had seen enough more virulent argument to be a little.. *alarms bells* upon reading some vague keywords. 

So my point is, my bad, i’ve got a little defensive there and judged your ask too harshly. I apologize.

Now back to the topic, yeah agreed on Chaoji. I honestly think Chaoji doesn’t know what details makes a Noah? I mean, the Order didn’t know before Road made her introduction and the Bookmen had to explain to them a few things. No one knows what it is like to turn into a Noah, no one knows about the awakened memories, and hell, the 14th is already a specific sort of Noah (i say it with all the love, but Nea isn’t a Noah Memory like Joyd is, he’s a parasite inside Allen’s body: his own being, not a memory that awoke in Allen, so even that when you know Noah’s development logic, is weird)

Chaoji didn’t become an exorcist until after the Ark’s arc and no one had any reasons too explain to that random crew man who was just helping carrying Lenalee around what little secrets they had learn about the Noah. So I think Chaoji still sees them as “they control the Akuma, they are rotten to the core, and once they turn there’s no come back”, perhaps projecting what he knows of the Akuma (which in which case is true, once an akuma, the only thing you can do is kill them with innocence for salvation - no attempt to really save them. Which makes me think, Chaoji did know Chomesuke- i think he wasn’t developped enough to have a reaction to him, but the fact Chomesuke had to destroy himself bc he couldn’t resist to its nature anymore might have added to this argument that there is no salvation for Dark Matter). 

For Chaoji I really don’t think he had the time to know about Noah stuff, and everything we know about how Noah comes to be come from Noah’s POV, so not something the Order may know, let alone a stubborn exorcist who hates them by principle. Allen tends to extend his compassion to non-humans because in a way... if he had seen Mana as non human the moment he would have turned him as an Akuma i think Allen couldn’t have stand it. (also i ended up mixing up with FMA but that reminded me of how Ed refused to kill the armor guys in the Lab 5 even when they kept saying they weren’t human anymore, because if he did so it would just imply that his brother isn’t human either and that it’s his fault that it is like that. I think the same reasoning can be applied to Allen @ the Akuma and extend to the Noah as long as the Noah are on the “side” of the Akuma. Ironically though considering “Mana” ended up becoming a Noah. Well. Always was, but you get my point)

Meanwhile the only strong feeling we’ve seen from an exorcist @ the Noah for being a Noah, was Kanda saying that since they are humans (which Skinn repeated) then they could be killed. Which i personally always took as a reassurance on Kanda’s part of reclaiming his own humanity and Alma’s, since they were denied it as kids and perhaps the only thing that, after all the horrors Alma had done, that made him human was that Kanda could kill him. Kanda asserting the Noah’s humanity in order to convince himself that death is part of humanity would, if i’m correct, be a sort of projection to protect that memory and identity, the same way Allen projects on others. 

But for the others, Lenalee had never hesitated around the Noah, even upon meeting Road, she quickly fought back. Lavi has a bad experience with Noah but he’s neutral enough to care more about what Allen wants in the end (when Allen wants to rescue Tyki the whole thing is about “the guys at the Order will look badly at it but if you think it’s important...” and not “why you do want to rescue the guy i wanted to kill a few hours ago”)Then there’s mainly Krory with the twins (and Lenalee to an extend) and I think there was too much irritation going on about them being brats more than them being Noah that went on there. 

But from Chaoji’s point of view who knew nothing about them, had spent his life hating the dark matter for taking what he loved, he saw.... Well Tyki playing with Lavi’s grief and threatening Lenalee, before trapping them in the Ark and trying to kill Allen, he’s seen Skinn  attack everyone and they then left Kanda behind with him, he’s been here a huge chuck of the Jasdebi fight just to see the Twins being Absolute Disaster Making You Lose Faith In Anything They Ever Represent (And It Happens To Be The Noah This Time) (did i ever mention that i love those stupid twins? I love them. They’re so dumb.), Road destroying Lavi’s mind and torturing Allen into forcing him to destroy Lavi, and finally the Lullubel attack on the Order that killed a huge amount of people. And if we extend the timeline to when he could have caught up his next meeting with the Noah in the Alma arc made him KO, kidnapped Lavi and Bookman who are now thought dead, and Fiidora’s parasites tortured him when he was powerless to save Lavi and Bookman, which might add some feeling of guilt there by the by. 

Without understanding of the Noah he just saw... the sheer destruction they brought along with them.

So Allen saying “I might become a Noah and you will have to kill me” - well I think seeing how horrible the Noah had been up to this point was enough for Chaoji to think that if Allen became one, it would override all of the good qualities Allen had. After all he has never seen the Noah before they became Noah.

Tbh It makes me even wonder if being introducted to Tyki in his human form (and Road to her human form as well but it’s more minor than how they befriended Tyki before that) may have made more possible for Allen to want to try to see that humanity. Because he saw this humanity with how Tyki behaved with his friends. More than just... hearing about “Oh apparently he has friends” that Chaoji would have heard from Allen, Lavi and Krory’s reaction upon meeting Tyki again. 

In a way, the fact Krory also has this association adding to how much he cares for Allen to relativise the way “becoming a Noah” might affect Allen - in a way Chaoji cannot. Because Krory saw Tyki having seemingly meaningful friendships with humans so, becoming a Noah wouldn’t come out as completely monstruous for him a way someone who just know the Noah might. (that, and also how his love for Eliade was serious and might make him more willing to believe in that humanity, even if Eliade told him in the end that she was just using him. Krory didn’t know she was lying - but he might hold on to that feeling).

So adding to all of Chaoji’s unchecked prejudice, there is this complete unknown over people he had only known as cruel. He has never seen their humanity the way Lavi, Krory, Kanda and Allen has. Then again yeah it doesn’t excuse anything because Miranda and Lenalee for exemple are in the same situation having suffered first hand from tortures from, well, Road for exemple, but trusting Allen above all while just as much in the dark. Even if depending how much the infos Bookman gave came to Miranda and Lenalee before Chaoji joined the Exorcist Group.

So that ended up being a lot of rambling dkjhfd but my point is that therefore, Allen is the one to see the humanity of the Noah the most, Krory and Lavi has reason to at least know personally Tyki’s human side to doubt how the Noah’s cruelty works, Kanda had had how he met with Skinn to approach it, else every exorcists before Chaoji was recruited might have heard a bit from Bookman but that’s it. Any other sort of acknowledging this humanity would come with trusting Allen. Which Chaoji doesn’t. 

And no one knows what “becoming a Noah” is like. And while Chaoji wasn’t there and i’m certain Lveille lied, but Allen did have a swift change of behavior and personality at least twice in the Alma’s arc for everyone to see (when talking to the Earl + when Kanda stabbed him). Even Johnny saw that. A second hand retelling could just convince Chaoji “well perhaps he had no control and it doesn’t matter what kind of person he was - once a Noah, you become a monster” and that could be enough.

That was a lot of ramble i’m so sorry dkjhfd but yeah. It’s a mess. 

And it’s just... there’s no way Chaoji can know. All he could do would be to trust Allen. Even seeking for answers isn’t exactly a position Chaoji is in, even if it would be preferable if he did question what he thought so far (like the others do) rather than just thinking “yup, he’s a goner, i’ll fight him”

if that makes any sense kdjhfd

idk Chaoji’s perspective is kinda fascinating to me. I dislike that he has it and doesn’t question it, but it’s fascinating to see how being emotionally disconnected from every elements we have ended up caring about can make someone like this. It really shows the price of emotional investment for me to see how Chaoji behave. He’s kinda the Counter-audience in that regard. And that’s what makes him fascinating, for as much as i dislike him as a person ahah. 

#ichafantalks dgm #Anonymous #ichareply

[possibilistfanfiction]

put down your sword & crown (come lay with me on the ground)

[this is rly late for clexa week but whatever it’s here (day 7 bc this is like future canon world but like nothing happened past 304) - clarke rly wants lexa to rETIRE partially bc her wife is hurt & stubborn abt it. also they have a baby. its soft & theres not a lot of plot. ao3.]

//

put down your sword & crown (come lay with me on the ground)

.

achingly beautiful how the sky/ looked as i stood after they left. nicer somehow/ in the middle. all the trees tucking blackbirds/ into their darkness. it really did take this long.

—gabrielle calvoccoressi, rocket fantastic (poems)

//

she has a limp. it’s more pronounced during storms, especially in the winter, and sometimes you think your wife is far too young to have a limp. other times you think it’s amazing she’s made it this far, alive and mostly in one piece.

you’ve been together for fourteen years, been married for ten of them. lexa is kind, attentive, and very funny—sides of her most people don’t get to see, but ones that you know almost better than any of your own moods. hers come with some warning: a tick in her jaw, solemn, sad nods, hours of swordsmanship when she’s upset. you think she’s more beautiful now than ever, a few laugh lines around the corners of her eyes; she takes you to the ocean whenever she can, and you think her eyes are the sort of jade—clear and depthless—as seaglass, as lightning left here for you to see.

she’s the most incredible, tender, intelligent person you have ever met, and she has a limp, shuffling in from training, again—and you. are. furious.

hale is babbling away in the corner, playing with some toys your mother had brought during her last visit. you watch her carefully because she’s walking now, and sometimes she looks at you  before she darts off across the room with an expression that reminds you so much of your wife that you have a hard time believing that lexa didn’t bear this child herself.

but today, soothed by the rain or the smell of bread you’re baking, she seems content with the small stuffed dog in her tiny hands. she looks up when lexa barges into the house, soaking wet and grimacing, but then goes back to her little game.

you open your mouth to say something, to snap at your wife, but she only holds up her hand exhaustedly before limping past you toward your bedroom quarters. you hear a stone sink into the bath you had started to draw, and then her first boot hit the ground. you wait for a moment, think about the old saying—wait for the other shoe to drop—and then, unsurprisingly, your wife’s does, softly and finally onto the worn hardwood of your bathroom.

you put hale in her little playpen—she doesn’t protest, just clings to her stuffed toys, and you brush back the mess of dark curls on her head and kiss her forehead when she smiles up at you—and then sigh. she’s the brightest, most special thing in the world and it had been lexa, surprisingly, who had advocated so passionately to adopt this tiny baby, abandoned in the woods near her home village. you had been hesitant: the ground is still not a gentle place, and it is not easy to love the most powerful person in the world. it is not easy, not really, for you to be mothers.

but she smiles, little dimples and all, and you hold her cheek for a moment before turning to go tend to your wife.

when you walk into your bathroom, lexa is naked, sort of staring at the tub. she’s put oils in it, and a few dried flowers; the room smells like lavender, like milk and honey, and if you weren’t already so mad you would be struck by it all, how beautiful and long and toned your wife is, wiry muscles and gentle curves, the steam causing her sun-kissed skin to flush gold. but lexa is crying, heaves a sigh, and then looks at you sadly, and some of your anger melts away.

‘i can’t get in,’ she says, quietly, and you’re surprised she’s speaking in english. perhaps it’s to feel further away from the words. she does this sometimes, when things are especially difficult for her to admit.

you don’t say anything, just take your shirt off and lay it on the chair. you slip out of the loose pants you have on, then your underwear, lexa watching you with an unreadable expression, one full of apology and relief.

‘hale?’

‘she’s in the playpen. she likes the toys my mother brought.’

lexa nods once, and then you step into the tub, and hold out your hands.

she takes them, is graceful with one leg when she steps into the relief of the warm water, but then it is slow going for a few moments, and her hands grip yours tightly, almost frantically, while she gets her other leg over the edge of the tub, her hip not bending like it should.

you stay quiet when you settle in, and she leans back and closes her eyes. her hand massages the muscle above the sore, stiff joint, and you know you need to wait, no matter how much you want to berate her, or argue, or yell.

‘you’re angry with me,’ she says, after a while, sitting up and looking at you. she does so with tenderness and no trace of anger herself.

‘yeah.’

‘we’ve been fighting for a while, now,’ she states, no question, and reaches for your hand.

‘we have been,’ you agree.

you take her hand, her gentle, calloused fingers, turn it upside down and trace the scar on her palm from so many years ago.

‘i do not know how to stop,’ she says, shakily, after moments of quiet.

‘you don’t have to stop being a leader, lexa,’ you say. ‘i’ve never wanted that for you.’

‘how can i be commander, though, if i do not fight with my people?’

a rush of frustration wells up in your chest, but her eyes are wide, and she looks young and lost and scared. and you are her wife.

‘we are at peace.’

she stares down at the water, swallows. ‘the other clans cannot revolt, if i were to relinquish power in any way.’

‘you are a brilliant leader,’ you say, and reach toward her to raise her chin. you nod when she meets your eyes. ‘you brought them together when you were 16. you overcame a shit show when we fell to the ground, and the mountain, and the ice nation.’

she sighs, nods minutely.

‘things will not fall apart of you give some power to aden. if you usher in someone capable and guided by your own hand.’ you squeeze her hand. ‘you are a brilliant leader, my love.’

‘he is quite capable.’

‘you’ve trained him since he was a boy.’ you smile, because you very much do like aden, and he’s grown into a fine warrior and strategist, perfectly adept and passionate and willing. ‘he will be good for polis, good for your people.’

‘i still want to lead,’ she says, looks at your seriously, tilts her head in a challenge.

‘you will,’ you say. ‘just with a little more help.’

you give her the few minutes she needs; you stay quiet and wash her hair gently, massage her hip.

‘okay,’ she says, finally, resolved and upset and relieved.

you kiss her—tender and kind, rough, a mess of a kiss, the first of a certain kind—and she kisses you back.

when you back up, your foreheads pressed together as you both breathe, she says, ‘i do not trust your machines, and i only vaguely trust your mother’—you laugh, nod—‘but i think i may want to learn more about the procedure.’

you want to sing, or shout or dance or something, because your mother has offered surgery to fix lexa’s hip for months, since you forced lexa to go to arkadia for x-rays and a consult.

‘we can do that,’ you say. ‘i’ll radio her.’

lexa shakes her head, kisses you again. ‘tomorrow,’ she says, and when you lift a brow, she sighs. ‘i give you my word, clarke.’

‘alright.’

‘just,’ she sighs, stands slowly, less stiff than before because of the warm water, ‘i need a day. i want a day with you, and with hale. to—to, i think, know what i can have.’

‘we do want you around, you know.’

lexa smiles, and, almost as if on cue, hale starts wailing for both of you, her little voice full of over-dramatic sobs. if you had to bet, it’s because she tossed her toy over the side of her playpen.

‘your daughter, undoubtedly,’ she says, as you help her out, and you flick water on her with a laugh before you follow.

she wraps her hair up in a towel and puts on a robe before walking out and collecting your mess of a child, her eyes brimming red. hale sniffles in lexa’s arms and you bend down and then hand her the little dog, wipe her tears before she hugs it tightly against lexa’s shoulder.

‘come on, strikon,’ lexa says softly. ‘mama made us breakfast.’

she situates hale at the table in her little chair, and you bring the fresh bread and cheese over with some fresh berries you’d had to trade a significant amount of venison for, but you are the commander’s wife, after all.

and you have breakfast with your family, lexa breaking the bread into pieces small enough for hale, and trying to get her to speak in complete sentences, and making both of you laugh. lexa looks at you after one particularly stupid joke that had pulled a snort out of you, and she says, ‘i am glad to no longer argue, niron.’

‘you’re an exhausting person to love,’ you say, but you’re smiling and she kisses your hand.

you clean up together, in rhythm and quietly, and hale starts to nod off in her chair, so you take her and put her between you in bed, watch her little chest rise and fall before you look at your wife.

‘she will need braids soon,’ she says, sifting her fingers through hale’s soft hair.

‘that’s all on you.’

lexa laughs softly. a weight has been lifted from her, you know, years and years of pain and being in a lifetime of forced debt to her people. she has fought for peace, and been willing to die for peace, and all you want—all you want for her, for your love, more than anything—is the same grace she has given to everyone around her.

you brush a strand of hair behind her ear, trace down her jaw. ‘you can rest,’ you tell her, and she closes her eyes like it’s some kind of holy benediction. a few tears leak down her cheeks but you let them, and then she dries her eyes and nods and props herself up so she can reach over hale to kiss you.

‘ai hod yu in,’ you say, quietly, and she smiles softly, tiredly.

‘i love you too.’

you put your hand on her hip, rub gentle circles below the waistband of her loose pants, her skin smooth and soft. your mother will cut it open, fix her bones and her nerves, and after that you will trace healing into her scar.

but for now you are all whole, and the rain has turned to heavy snow outside the windows. the fire is full and burns away; hale sighs and lexa’s breathing evens out. you watch them, and the wind howls outside, but you are warm.

#possibilist #possibilistfanfiction #clexa week 2018 #clexa fanfiction #clexa fic #BABIES #they r a lil old!!!!!!!! i love them so much

[cxrmacmclaggen]

i burn, i pine, i perish

pairing: ginny weasley x blaise zabini

setting: post-war canon, but where blaise’s wealth supposedly can’t support his extravagant habits…please just go with this one lol. also based on this except i replaced michael corner w ginny bc fuck michael corner

wc: 1788

link: ff

written for: @provocative-envy, belated happy birthday, this is like 4 days late sorry!

also: this is the first fanfic i’ve written since i was like, 12. it’s 4 a.m. please god help me  and please excuse the tense changes bc im sure they are THERE and GLARINGLY OBVIOUS to everyone except for me

It all begins at the Dragon’s Breath on a Tuesday—

Well, that’s not quite right. It all begins during sixth year in a train compartment on the way to Hogwarts.

Blaise should have known that somehow word of him calling Ginny a blood traitor would have reached her. At the time, Ginny’s opinion of him hadn’t seemed pertinent.

Not that anything’s changed present day.

It begins in a train compartment on the way to Hogwarts, but it doesn’t really start until the Dragon’s Breath on a Tuesday.

It’s a pretty average Tuesday afternoon at the Dragon’s Breath, which means that there’s a scattering of rough-looking men drinking alone and two thirty-something women, a little bit too old to still be hanging around the Dragon’s Breath, in the corner giggling over butterbeers, casting glances that Blaise is pretty sure they intend to be furtive.

They’re not. One of them looks vaguely familiar in a way that probably means Blaise has fucked her before. Or not. He doesn’t exactly quite keep a body count, but he gets this sort of feeling somewhere in his gut when he sees one of them.

His gut is telling him to stay the fuck out. He doesn’t do seconds, doesn’t do romance or emotional intimacy or really emotions, which is definitely what this woman wants.

His Gringotts overdraft notice is cataloging the delicate chantilly lace edging her robes, the muted green raw silk scarf tied around her neck, and the determined look in her eye.

Bottles of 1952 Chateau Margauxs don’t pay for themselves, and things like moral objections and walking a very blurry line between prostitution and, well, not-prostitution, have never really bothered him anyways.

The strange similarity between his mother’s methods and his—well. Some things don’t have to be thought about.

He tosses away the dirty rag he’d been using to clean a glass and is about to saunter over when the door creaks open. Curiously, he turns his head. Most of the regulars are already drinking their way into a stupor, and more women could fuck up his plans.

Ginny fucking Weasley is standing by the bar.

He doesn’t even remember the soccer moms in the corner table until the next morning.

He doesn’t want to think about the last time something—or someone—has so fully captured his attention.

Ginny Weasley, it turns out, had a mutual breakup with Harry fucking Potter and is now at the Dragon’s Breath to drown her sorrows.

Blaise pours three fingers of Firewhiskey into a tumbler. Ginny narrows her eyes at him. “More.”

He pulls out the bottle again. “If you wanted to get drunk, you could have gone to any single pub,” he says casually. Why the fuck would you come to the Dragon’s Breath is left unsaid.

She shrugs. “Won’t get recognized here,” she says, throwing back the drink without a grimace. Even Blaise is surprised.

Blaise considers her. Her statement could be true. As the Chosen One’s girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend—she would get a lot of attention, especially right after a breakup. But it doesn’t ring exactly true.

He’s a fucking bartender. He knows, understands the seediness of the Dragon’s Breath, how easily conversation flows and the convenience of a motel right next door that rents rooms out by the hour. And he considers the fact that Ginny Weasley, of all people, is trolling at the Dragon’s Breath for sex, and, well—

He had always thought she was too hot for Potter.

The thing is, Blaise is competitive. He knows how to win, how to purse his lips in a way that make his cheekbones look sharp enough to cut glass, how to say the right things and the right moment to smirk, knows, inherently, that he is beautiful and charming and knows exactly how to use that in his favor.

He’s used to being wanted. To being adored. He’s used to being the one that leaves in the morning, that wants less, that pulls away.

Ginny Weasley is nobody. She’s poor. She wears worn, plain black robes. Doesn’t do her makeup or hair, doesn’t know the right people or the right things to say. The fact that Blaise even wants her is a goddammned blessing upon her. He should have been the one to leave.

When Blaise wakes up in the morning, fists curled in the sheets and a case of morning wood that he suspects has more to do with the memory of Ginny than just biological regularities, Ginny Weasley is gone. No note on the bed table begging him to call her, no panties left in the corner with a cheeky request to “remember her.” And that is just—unacceptable.

He owls her again, fucks her again because God knows he’s always loved a challenge and he’s determined to make her like him more than he likes her.

It’s just sex. Neither of them even like each other. He doesn’t tell his friends about her. She doesn’t bring him to meet her parents. It’s not a relationship. Her toothbrush is in his bathroom because it’s just more convenient, and God of course he’s not going to kiss her before she brushes her teeth, her fucking morning breath is insane. And the fact that her ratty T-shirts have begun fighting for closet space with his carefully color-coded cashmere sweaters—well, he’s not going to give her his shirts to wear when she leaves, that’s a cliche and she’d just ruin them (he’s pretty sure she would spontaneously combust if anything other than polyester or cotton touched her skin).

And the worming, sinking feeling in his gut—his gut feeling’s been pretty fucking spot-on for most of the time he’s known her—that he’s way over his head, well. Nobody ever accused Blaise of being honest with himself.

It’s just sex, until it’s not.

Their first fight happens three months in. Well, technically, they fight over everything. Who should make another pot of coffee, which brand of yogurt to buy, which TV channel to watch. (Blaise is pretty sure that it’s a form of fucked up foreplay for Ginny, which makes him wonder about Potter.) But they’ve never really fought.

Then he gets a letter from his mother.

“What do you mean, you don’t want to meet my mother? She’s my fucking mother,” Blaise sputters over dinner.

Ginny stabs her fork into a piece of prosciutto (what the fuck is prosciutto, Blaise, it’s literally just ham but 5 galleons more expensive, why would we buy prosciutto, was her stance in the grocery market. She had lost the argument). “Exactly,” she snaps. “She’s your mother. That’s not—that’s not what we do. Why the fuck does your mother know about—have you been writing your mother about me?”

Blaise is momentarily thankful for his dark skin as his face heats. “I talk to my mother about my life, it’s pretty hard to escape the fact that I’m fucking you half the time,” he bites out. “She’s curious, she wants to meet you, can’t you just get it fucking together for an hour and meet her?”

Ginny slams her fork down. “What happened to boundaries? I am fucking you, Blaise. I don’t—we are not in the type of relationship where I meet your mother. I can’t meet your mother. We’re fuck buddies. It's—temporary.”

He doesn’t hear how her voice hesitates, cracks before temporary. He’s too zeroed in on the word itself, and it sounds more like failure to him. Because he’s kept himself safe his entire life by wanting less and he didn’t want to admit it but he wants more, he wants Ginny like he’s never wanted before, and he doesn’t know if it’s like or if it’s love, or maybe neither, he just knows that he wants.

And the fact that she doesn’t. Well. It stings. More than stings, if he’s being honest.

His gut is rolling when he says, “I don’t think my mother would approve of a blood traitor like you, anyways.”

He hears himself echoing those sixth-year words, and he’s vaguely surprised once again by his capability for cruelty. He’s not surprised when he hears the door slam behind him.

When he goes to her, he doesn’t apologize. Doesn’t bring flowers or a big teddy bear or a guitar. He’s not even sure that he’s sorry, only that there is something that clicks when Ginny’s around and seeing her stupid probiotic yogurt in his fridge go uneaten makes him. Well. it makes him—unhappy.

When she opens the door she doesn’t expect him to be standing there. He knows that because there’s a light in her eyes that dims when she sees him, and he doesn’t think about how that feels like a stab in the gut. Doesn’t think about the fact that it’s been two months, she might be dating someone else, that that someone else might be the one she was waiting for.

Instead, he opens his mouth and the words come out in a rush. “It is—conflicting. Or was conflicting. Being with you. Because.” He swallows before this. “I like…you. A lot, and I’m not used to liking people, my mother didn’t exactly provide me with a model for a healthy relationship, and. I realize now that I’ve been repeating what I’ve seen. Which was fine, until it wasn’t fine, because I met you and I didn’t. Want. To move on from you. Because I could have moved on, maybe, and been fine, but that’s not what I wanted. And I want you.” He stops. She looks at him, unimpressed by the equivalent of practically a fucking declaration of love from him. So he swallows and continues. “And you being a Weasley—your family—is confusing. Because I’ve been raised to know the right families. Malfoy. Greengrass. Parkinson. To see them as better. But I don’t want Daphne or Pansy or Draco. I want you, and coming to terms with your family, and its, uh, way of life. I see now that it’s not. Bad. In a way. Just different. And maybe, uh, better. Or something.”

The words at this point are coming out so stiltedly that when he finally trails off he’s not sure if any more are going to come out or not. She studies him for a minute, maybe two.

“That was the worst apology of all time,” she finally says after what constitutes as the longest silence in the world, probably. “You didn’t even apologize.”

He opens his mouth to say something, defend himself, but she beats him to it. “We’ll work on it, though.”

It begins in a train compartment. Starts at the Dragon’s Breath.

Where it ends, though—

Blaise hopes to God it doesn’t.

#blaise zabini #ginny weasley #fic #blaise x ginny #blaise zabini x ginny weasley #blinny #provocative-envy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

[commodorecliche]

taggy tags - question edition

I was tagged by @solonin​ - thank you very much! 

RULES: ANSWER THESE 85 QUESTIONS AND TAG SOME PEOPLE

I’ll put this under the cut cause it’s kinda long. And I’ll go ahead and tag: @pilindiel @professorpotato @mochalatt3 @mochiartemisa @icyblueroses @hellafreckledhorses @vodkaandscones @paladinpandemonium @ushiiwakas @kirschbooty and whoever else wants to. if you don’t wanna do it, you absolutely don’t have to! and if you do want to but weren’t tagged, please do it anyway! it was fun. :) 

THE LAST 1. DRINK: water 2. PHONE CALL: the hospital 3. TEXT MESSAGE: madre 4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: The Wolf - Phildel 5. TIME YOU CRIED: um... I don’t really remember? I don’t cry that much.  6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: I’ve never technically dated someone twice. But I did have a mutual break up where we kept screwing after? Does that count? 7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: who hasn’t? 8. BEEN CHEATED ON: yes. 9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: yes. 10. BEEN DEPRESSED: i have depression. so. yeah.  11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: yeah.  3 FAVOURITE COLOURS 12. black 13. burgundy 14. purple IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU 15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: sure have!  16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: absolutely not. i love my guy.  17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: sure have. 18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: does vagueing about me count? lmao. 19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: not really 20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: yes? what does this mean?  21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: my fiance, so yeah... 

GENERAL 22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: at least 4/5ths of them. i hardly ever use facebook though.  23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: two cats - Moose and Cash, and my two family dogs - Nimitz and Mina. 24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: nah.  25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY: went out for dinner with my family. didn’t get cake for like. the fourth year in a row. idk why my family will not get me cake. :(  26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP: this morning? got to sleep in a bit, 5:45 AM. but depending on where i’m traveling that day, i could get up as early as 3 AM to drive somewhere for a case. 27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: writing.  28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: budapest!! it’s so so close.  29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: last weekend, but i talked to her today.  31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: Cirice - Ghost BC 32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: yup. talked to one today, actually. what a specific question. why do you need to know this?  33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: travel. i’m tired.  34. MOST VISITED WEBSITE: probably here, twitter, cracked, and somethingawful 35. HAIR COLOUR: dark brown 36. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: long. 37. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: my fiance, does that count?  38. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: nothing lately, it seems.  39. PIERCINGS: yes - three piercings on my left ear lobe, two piercings on my right earlobe. my right ear cartilage is pierced and I have an industrial/scaffold piercing on my left ear. i used to have my bellybutton pierced, but crew made sure to get rid of that.  40. BLOOD TYPE: AB- wait why do you need this info?  41. NICKNAME: Lindzor, Commia, Lindsmeister 42. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: engaged 43. ZODIAC: astrology is bullshit, but leo (addendum: i will allow astrology for the sake of she.ith lmao) 44. PRONOUNS: she/her 45. FAVOURITE TV SHOW: right now, Voltron and Rick & Morty 46. TATTOOS: three so far - one on my neck that was my dad’s tattoo (eye of horus with an ankh as the iris), the symbol for anubis on one shoulder, and an ankh/treble clef on the other shoulder. I’m going to be getting my fourth soon, hopefully. 47. RIGHT OR LEFT HANDED: moderately ambidextrous, but favor right. 48. SURGERY: none but wisdom teeth, thankfully. i work in surgery; i definitely don’t want to have surgery. 

50. SPORT: rowing.  51. VACATION: I’ll be going on a work-cation soon. there’s a conference in budapest and my company is paying for me to go - my fiance is coming with.  52. PAIR OF TRAINERS: like sneakers? asics.  MORE GENERAL 53. EATING: nothing right now. 54. DRINKING: water. 55. I’M ABOUT TO: try to write a little more. 56. WAITING FOR: nothing? 57. WANT: to go longboarding 58. GET MARRIED: getting married next October!

WHICH IS BETTER: 60. HUGS OR KISSES: either/or depending on who’s giving them. 61. LIPS OR EYES: both. 62. SHORTER OR TALLER: taller. 63. OLDER OR YOUNGER: either. 64. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: nice arms 65. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: relationship. 66. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: troublemaker. HAVE YOU EVER: 67. KISSED A STRANGER: yup. 68. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: yup. 69. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: 20/20 vision, baby, envy me. 70. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: yup. 71. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: yup. 72. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: yup.. 73. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: yup. 74. BEEN ARRESTED: no. 75. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: yes 76. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: yes DO YOU BELIEVE IN: 77. YOURSELF: sometimes 78. MIRACLES: no 79. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: no. lust at first sight, yes, but not love. 80. SANTA CLAUS: no. is this a common thing for people to still believe?  81. KISS ON THE FIRST DATE: yes. 82. ANGELS: nope OTHER: 84. EYE COLOUR: dark brown 85. FAVOURITE MOVIE: The Thing (1982)

#about me #long post #taggy tags

[toxic-suga]

92 questions tag!!

tagged by @lz-01 ily im sorry this is late

tagging @themcpoylebrothers @ttaegiis @literally-just-yoongi-trash @pornographicpenguin @a-sprinkle-of-magick

THE LAST:  

1. drink: mountain dew 2. phone call: tried calling the dentist to schedule an appointment but they didnt answer;; 3. text message: a group chat i have with a few of my friends 4. song you listened to: mansae - seventeen 5. time you cried: ...i was reading a bts fic and it broke me

HAVE YOU EVER:

6. dated someone twice: no 7. kissed someone and regretted it: nope 8. been cheated on: no 9. lost someone special: yeah 10. been depressed: not really 11. gotten drunk and thrown up: no

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14. teal, black, toxic green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. made new friends: yes 16. fallen out of love: no 17. laughed until you cried: yes 18. found out someone was talking about you: no 19. met someone who changed you: everyone i meet changes me im keeping that thats a great answer holy shit 20. found out who your friends are: my life’s not that dramatic keeping that too 21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: no

GENERAL:

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: all...of them? most of them 23. do you have any pets: a dog called Hope (my hobi), a cat named Shun, and six chickens i’ve unwillingly had foisted upon myself but I named one Joonie (I used to have a kitten named Gloss. He has since been taken by my dads ex-gf) 24. do you want to change your name: i’m too lazy to have it changed (again. i had my last name changed as a kid) 25. what did you do for your last birthday: nothing 26. what time did you wake up: 4pm after taking a nap on the couch 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: watching the new king kong movie 28. name something you can’t wait for: BTS’ new album 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: a few weeks before she died four years ago 30. what is one thing you wish you could change in your life: my motivation 31. what are you listening to right now: healing - seventeen 32. have you ever talked to a person named Tom: i know a few tommys? 33. something that is getting on your nerves: right now how indecisive my friends are about ordering a pizza 34. most visited website: Either this hell site or youtube;; same same x2 38. hair color: brown and mint green 39. long or short hair: like, boy short 40. do you have a crush on someone: no 41. what do you like about yourself: I don’t know. rofl, same here yup 42. piercings: used to have my ears pierced but i let them grow back in  43. blood type: b+ 44. nickname: none 45. relationship status: single 46. zodiac: aries 47. pronouns: she/her 48. favorite tv show: NCIS 49. tattoos: none bc i chickened out of getting my first one 50. right or left handed: right 51. surgery: teratoma tumor 52. piercings you want: helix piercing on my right ear 53. sport: sleeping 55. vacation: japan, most definitely. maybe south korea, but japan’s been a goal for like ten years 56. pair of trainers: vans

MORE GENERAL

57. eating: pizza 58. drinking: dr. pepper 59. i’m about to: jam out to namjoon’s mixtape again 61. waiting for: my friend to stop rapping nicki minaj bc she can’t rap joke 62. want: to finish these two fics i have in the works 63. get married: lololol 64. career: uhhh game design?

WHICH IS BETTER

65. hugs or kisses: i’ve uh. never actually been kissed. so hugs. 66. lips or eyes: eyes 67. shorter or taller: either, but leaning towards taller. even if its barely. 68. older or younger: whichever 70. nice arms or nice stomach: fuck. um. arms? 71. sensitive or loud: uh…are you implying that noisy people can’t be caring and sensitive? i’m gonna keep this 72. hook up or relationship: relationship 73. troublemaker or hesitant: both

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. kissed a stranger: no 75. drank hard liquor: yes 76. lost glasses/contact lenses: no 77. turned someone down: yeah but it was more like avoiding them completely 78. sex on the first date: no                                                                           79. broken someone’s heart: no 80. had your heart broken: no 81. been arrested: no 82. cried when someone died: yes 83. fallen for a friend: yeah, it sucked hardcore

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. yourself: vaguely. barely. 85. miracles: meh 86. love at first sight: no 87. santa claus: no 88. kiss on the first date: i suppose 89. angels: no

OTHER:

90. current best friend’s name: uh. i will start discourse if i dont put both so. ami and haley. 91. eye color: dark fuckin brown. my mom literally put ‘black’ on my baby book 92. favorite movie: pacific rim

#tag game #toxic rambles #thank you for tagging meeee #i am #very bad at replying #but yooo #about me #u dont gotta do this if you dont wanna #but yeah

[mysewoon]

“SHOULD WE KNOW US A LITTLE BETTER” TAG 📜

i was tagged by @urmomstax and lauryn but idk where she is thank you :” this is late i think but you must understand i procrastinate like crazy

RULES: you must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people i refuse

THE LAST:

1. Drink: water 2. Phone call: i don’t talk on the phone 3. Text message: “NOTHING REALLY” 4. Song you listened to: now the future pass of this love by BTOB 5. Time you cried: like,,, this morning bc i was watching maury and that shit was funny as hell 6. Dated someone twice: i’ve never even dated anyone bless 7. Kissed someone and regretted it: do you really think i have kissed someone without dating them?? well you’re right 8. Been cheated on: do i look like someone who would ever let someone get that close 9. Lost someone special: i’ve never lost anyone special?? 10. Been depressed: i’m always depressed wth 11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: i’ve never been drunk wow

LIST 3 FAVORITE COLORS:

12-14: baby pink, baby blue, and mint green

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU:

15. Made new friends: yup! and they’re awesomee 16. Fallen out of love: i’ve never fallen in love anyway 17. Laughed until you cried: i laugh really hard so it’d be weird if it didn’t end with me in tears 18. Found out someone was talking about you: not in the last year!! i kept a low profile 19. Met someone who changed you: nope  20. Found out who your friends are: i’ve found out who my friends aren’t?? specifically in february of this year...  that... bitch... 21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: I WOULD NEVER STOOP THAT LOW

GENERAL:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: i know them all  23. Do you have any pets: she’s not really mine but i’ve been living with a cat named baddie for the last year she’s really annoying 24. Do you want to change your name: not really?? rachel feels like me 25. What did you do for your last Birthday: i didn’t really celebrate my birthday on the day of my birthday?? like a week later was when my dad came and then we celebrated... but on my actual birthday i just ate cake and sat around 26. What time did you wake up: 10am!! don't let the exclamation point fool you i wasn't v happy 27. What were you doing at midnight last night: i was reading a new webcomic named lookism it’s really good so far!! but the wifi was so bad where i was so i had to wait until i went to my best friend’s house to actually finish it 28. Name something you can’t wait for: um?? the morning bc the breakfast at this hotel starts at 6am and i’m ready to eat until i suffocate 29. When was the last time you saw your mom: a little over a day ago 30. What is one thing you wish you could change in your life: i wish i had more money so my mom wouldn’t have to struggle so much and that i had more opportunities to put myself out there 31. What are you listening right now: naturee 32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: actually... no? that seems like such a common name but i guess... there aren’t a lot of toms just lying around for you to speak to 33. Something that is getting on your nerves: my fucking laptop won’t connect to the hotel wifi although my phone is connected so my ass is sitting here like an idiot writing wonhyuk fluff on this BIG ASS computer screen oh my god 34. Most visited Website: AO3 ofc 35. Mole/s: the only one i can think about right now is the mole on the inside of my left middle finger 36. Mark/s: i’m covered in scars omg and i have a bruise on my leg that has been there for like a few years??? maybe it isn’t actually a bruise idk how bruises work 37. Childhood dream: hmm,,, i can’t even remember yesterday tbh but i guess my childhood dream was to be a writer but then i realized that i don’t want that to be my whole life 38. Hair color: black 39. Long or short hair: i just cut my hair in april and i’m so happy that i did!! 40. Do you have a crush on someone: what is a crush?? 41. What do you like about yourself: my lips when they’re not dry 42. Piercings: nope it’s not really encouraged in my religion 43. Blood type: i actually don’t know?? that would really suck if i needed blood 44. Nickname: rae... there’s not much you can do with the name rachel 45. Relationship status: single af 46. Zodiac: virgo 47. Pronouns: she/her 48. Favorite TV Show: broad city, andi mack, and age of youth 49. Tattoos: i am ink-free 50. Right or left hand: right 51. Surgery: nope 52. Piercing: who made this list?? 53. Sport: i can’t even get off the couch 55. Vacation: this is such a vague question?? but lately i’ve really wanted to go to botswana and italy 56. Pair of trainers: i have a pair of adidas and space converse (if converse shoes even count)

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: vague question?? but i love to eat! my favorite is miso soup 58. Drinking: tea and coffee is all i need to get by honestly 59. I’m about to: possibly go to sleep 61. Waiting for: breakfast in the morning 62. Want: to become an online model so i can get free clothes :( but guess what biNCH?? i’m UGLY!!!!!!!!! 63. Get married: marriage isn’t for me idc what anyone says 64. Career: my dream career is to be an engineering psychologist

WHICH IS BETTER?:

65. Hugs or kisses: hugss 66. Lips or eyes: eyes 67. Shorter or taller: taller 68. Older or younger: older 70. Nice arms or nice stomach: arms 71. Sensitive or loud: idek what this means to be entirely honest... but sensitive 72. Hook up or relationship: hook up 73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: lmao yall 75. Drank hard liquor: unfortunately... it wasn’t a thrill 76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: yes,,, idk if i regret buying hyungwon’s circular lens glasses bc i’ve lost them twice already and i just got them last month 77. Turned someone down: oh yeah 78. Sex in the first date: i’ve never been on a date do you understand??? 79. Broken someones heart: i break a heart every time i step in a room 80. Had your heart broken: sigh... when jooheon dyed his hair blond that really hurt me 81. Been arrested: don’t play me i’m black i have to be careful  82. Cried when someone died: oh yes :// 83. Fallen for a friend: noooo

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: BUHAHAHAHAHAHA 85. Miracles: hmm?? yes 86. Love at first sight: nah 87. Santa Claus: lmao i was never even given the satisfaction of believing in santa claus 88. Kiss in the first date: hmm i don’t know 89. Angels: i think so

OTHER:

90. Current best friends name: kadee, samantha, and rachel (we’re name twins) 91. Eye color: brown 92. Favorite movie: don’t have one?? i’m not really a movie person

i’m tagging @kimiin, @1reol, @hyunqwonnie, @hyukbinnie, and @chaerismatic

#feel free to ignore #tag game