#it's been a long time since that fight came out now but i want to do it synced ngl JRGWJWVAJSBJD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaithetics · 3 days

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GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the “jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all.

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though.

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously.

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in.

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in.

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life.

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby.

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport.

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you.

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild.

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is.

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this.

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for.

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names.

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well.

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that.

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man.

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow.

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match.

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally.

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet.

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence.

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage.

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought.

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness.

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights.

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

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milqueandsugar · 3 days

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What if,, a band/artist rivalry between Adam and reader?

Since Adam outright says he's in a band in the first episode,, let's say that there's a rising artist who making themselves big in the music industry in Heaven, maybe even the same genre that Adam's band is in, and he gets ticked off.

So out of curiosity, he goes to one of their concerts (presumably to judge the music itself) but then when they start playing, he's just kinda.. in disbelief. Like the music is good?? And the person singing is hot??

Idk that would be something cool and funny to read,, love your stuff btw, been following since like last year 🙏🙏 I'll be 🥐 anon if that's cool and not taken ofc!

🌼☕` Your Tea Is Ready `☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / Adam

A/n - thanks for following for so so long! This was fun to write!

| Adam/Rival!Reader|

Listen, alright he only went to investigate

Too see what it was that made you sooo much of a competitor, because upon first glance there was nothing that interesting about you

Like you had cool clothes and hair he wanted to run his hands through, and the most kissable lips he's ever seen, and you pretty much sweated sex appeal but like you were THAT cool

So he takes the chance when an opportunity arises to get seats for your show, he'll take the scolding for the expensive purchase from lute later, the information he could gather was worth far more than any currency

So he goes, fights through the crowd for drinks and then fights through the crowd again to get to his spot

Your fans are insane, thats the first thing, like he's used to fans throwing bras and underwear on stage but these people are screaming and cheering for you like you were on stage, the openers hadn't even started yet wtf was going on??

The crowd hype was real though and by time the openers, who were mid, closed he was feeling the buzz of excitement the crowd carried

It was contagious and his ailment of adrenaline was only worsened when you came on stage and started your first song

Fuck

Yeah he got the appeal

Seeing someone so confident, so in love with their passion made him fall equally in love with you, those are like the two sexiest things and angel can have and you've got them falling out of your pockets babe!!

He buys more tickets to up coming shows and a shit ton of merch while leaving the venue, he would have done it during the show but he couldn't tear his eyes away often enough to blink let alone do anything else

Any sense of envy or competiriveness? Gone, just like the money from his wallet

He only realizes when he's considering buying a signed shirt that he's acting like one of HIS groupies

Oh no

Decides then he needs to quit, you have a sick band, he respects you and has all your songs on vinyl and on his phone but he's not some fucking low life that stalks their celebrity crushes all right?

I mean he's going to keep the merch but hey it might be valuable one day!!

And he'll go see the shows for the tickets he already bought but otherwise it'd just be a waste so whatever it's totally normal

This is such normal behavior, just, be cautious if you ever mention HIS band in a positive light on social or in an interview, he is already heavily considering buying some back stage passes don't force his hand now, come on

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #adam x you #adam x y/n #adam headcanons #adam imagines #adam x reader

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celtic-crossbow · 2 days

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We Were Built to Fall Apart and Fall Back Together

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Setting: Alexandria (pre-Saviors war) Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; blood, injury, illness; allusions to self harm; canonical character death Summary: After Denise's death, you notice something is terribly off about Daryl, but he won't let you close enough to find out what. A/N: This novel was written for @darylssunshine and my lord, I'm worried that I got too carried away and that's just a ton of rambling and ooc Daryl. 😢

Something was wrong with Daryl.

You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you just knew he wasn’t himself. Well, completely himself. He was amped up and ready to fight, ready to take revenge. Everyone seemed to understand why. He had watched Denise die, harbored that guilt upon his own shoulders alone. He had conceded and let her go with him and Rosita. It was his fault that she had been taken from the community, taken from Tara. Of course, that wasn’t true. The blame lay solely on the Saviors, but Daryl was nothing if not self deprecating and stubborn. That—the willingness to take full responsibility, to beat himself down—was commonplace. However, there was something else.

Something in the way he communicated, a quieter tone than usual. Of course, no one else picked up on it. No one else spent 99% of their time with him. No one else had conversations with him in bed, heard him vent or laugh or just talk when everything else was still and quiet. Not like you. No one else heard the different octaves, the slight trembles. To everyone else, he was just talking.

Something in the way he carried himself. Daryl had a specific gait. Nearly silent footfalls when stealth or care was needed but in everyday activities, his boots pounded the ground. He walked with purpose, long and even strides. Not with a slight drag of his left leg. So minuscule that no one seemed to notice. Except you.

Something in the way he ate. Daryl had a healthy appetite. He shoveled food into his mouth like someone would take it from him at any moment. Maybe someone had before. He gave it up willingly when supplies were scarce and he feared the kids would do without. Supplies weren’t at a surplus but no one was starving, yet no one seemed to notice that Daryl wasn’t eating. No one except you.

You had reasons to worry that others had no way of being aware. Daryl wasn’t coming to bed at night. Two nights in a row. You found him on the couch the next morning. That was concerning in itself. Daryl up at the ass crack of dawn Dixon was still asleep when you came downstairs. Once he was awake, there was no conversation. Not a word spoken. He’d forego his coffee and anything to eat and just trudge out the door.

“So.” You leaned back against the wall next to him, narrowing your eyes when he moved to the side just the slightest bit.

“So?” He crossed his arms, hands tucked away in his armpits.

“What’s wrong with you?” You pressed, forcing yourself to keep your distance. He angled his head toward you but kept his eyes on the meeting.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” He rasped in a whisper so quiet that you needed to lean closer to hear him properly. You answered with a simple mhm. There was no point in pursuing the conversation there.

“Has anyone taken inventory since—” Rick let the words filter out, dropping his head with a sniff. “Tara isn’t up for it but we need to know what we’re running low on and—”

“I can do it.” Carol volunteered, standing and smoothing her pants and shirt. “I’ll go now. We know there was quite a list when she—” Even Carol couldn’t seem to muster the words.

“Died.” Daryl finished, his voice rough. Everyone looked at him, a variety of expressions. “What? No one else seems to be able to say it. She was murdered. Killed. Dead.”

Rick was quiet for a moment, as were you, waiting for the next thing someone would say.

“That isn’t on you Daryl. It was the Saviors, and she wanted—”

“The hell it ain’t.” The archer snapped, pulling his body from against the wall with the slightest stagger. You squinted, surveying the room. No one noticed. Of course they didn’t. “I took ‘er out there. Knew better but did it anyway.” He was challenging them, daring anyone to try and take some of the weight of guilt from his shoulders. When no one spoke up, he tapped his fist against the side of his leg and stalked out of the room.

Then it was all eyes on you. A wordless game of who’s gonna check on Daryl was set in motion.

“I’ve got him.” You nodded and left the room. He wasn’t in the foyer and unlikely to be upstairs in a house that wasn’t his own, so you opened the door and traipsed down the porch steps. “Daryl?” A look to the left and then to the right revealed nothing but empty evening streets in Alexandria.

You knew almost everything there was to know about the archer. Including that if he did not want to be found, you would not find him.

You did the only thing you could. You sighed and headed home, hoping just maybe he’d be there, though the odds were against you.

The house was dark when you got there, which was nothing new. Even if he was home, he could move around in the shadows like a ghost. Opening the door, you stepped inside and closed it behind you, opting to leave the lights off for the moment.

“Daryl, are you home?”

Nothing.

Another sigh as you removed your boots and padded into the kitchen, this time, turning on the lights. Coffee would have been the better option but your nerves won out with their persuasive argument for alcohol. You had two bottles of wine that you used in cooking—well, that was the intended use.

Glass poured and book in hand, you turned off the light and perched yourself on the couch, lighting a candle to illuminate the words on the pages while you waited for him. Even if you fell asleep, you’d know if he came home. If the apocalypse had made you into anything, it was a light sleeper. You’d know the moment that door opened.

It never did.

When morning came without a trace of your boyfriend, you passed into another level of worry, the part where the scenarios came intruding upon your usually levelheaded thoughts.

What if he had gone after the Saviors alone? What if he had been hurt? What if he had been—

No. That thought, you simply refused to entertain. Boots on and weapons holstered, you stepped outside. Carol was walking toward your house, but before you could ask if she had seen the missing archer, she was looking up with a hand hovering over her eyes to block the sun. A glance toward you but she remained silent.

Jogging down the steps, you joined her, shielding your eyes and looking toward the roof of your house.

Daryl was perched there, knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them. He was just watching the townsfolk move about without a word or movement. You worked your jaw back and forth to stifle the annoyance of having him above your head all night while you waited for him until the candle had burned out.

“I got this. Thanks, Carol. Did you need anything else?”

She was still watching her best friend but reluctantly turned to you. “We’re running low on nearly everything in the infirmary. Gauze, gloves, ointments, antibiotics, painkillers, and the meds some of the people need to manage health issues. Would you—”

There was a loud thud several feet away, Daryl straightening—staggering and tilting but yes, straightening—from his jump. “I got it. Make a list.”

“Daryl, maybe you should—” Carol started.

“Make a list.” Was all he said before walking up the steps and into the house.

You started to speak but the other woman was faster. “Something’s not right with him.” She had crossed her arms and was staring at your front door. “He isn’t eating. He’s walking differently and there’s something about his tone.” You blinked at her. “What? Just because you’re sleeping with him, you think the best friend doesn’t notice these things too?” Carol smiled, squinting against the sun.

“Touché.” You conceded with a nod.

“I’ll make the list but go with him. You and someone else. No matter what he says.” Her hand came to rest on your shoulder and squeeze.

“You know I don’t listen to what he says anyway.” You placed your hand over hers and brought it down with a squeeze of your own, separating as you walked toward your house.

Your bag was on a hook by the door, all unused necessities still inside. You merely needed to replenish and pack up some extra clothes. As your boot touched the bottom step of the staircase, you heard the tap begin to run in the kitchen. You carefully hung your bag on the banister post.

Rounding into the room, you found Daryl grasping the edge of the kitchen island, arms outstretched with his head hanging between them. His hair was draped like a curtain, shielding any view of his face. The glass he’d filled sat untouched in front of him.

As you approached, it became apparent that he hadn’t realized you were even in the room. That was beyond concerning. Daryl had an eagle eye and the hearing of an owl. He should have heard you the moment you entered the house.

“Daryl.”

He didn’t startle, just simply squeezed the countertop’s edge. “Take it you’re goin’ too.” He rasped, his words followed by a harsh sniff.

“Of course, I am.” You stepped closer and reached for his hand, your fingertips barely making it halfway before he moved. “Daryl, wait.”

“G’on an’ get ready. Wanna head out, maybe be back ‘fore dark.”

“Listen, I know someth—”

“Take whatcha need in case we gotta make it a overnight thing.” His own bag was on the hook beside where yours had been moments ago. Daryl snatched it as he opened the door and headed outside.

“Stubborn fucking mule.” You grumbled, jerking your bag from the post on your way up the stairs.

You had been in the car for 45 minutes and Abraham had not stopped talking. You loved the big red gorilla but sometimes, he needed several layers of duct tape over his mouth. From the way Daryl was massaging his left temple as he drove, you would need to find that tape or the other man would be riding in the trunk very soon.

“Really puts a burr in my saddle what they did to Denise.”

Shit.

Daryl’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. The fingers rubbing his temple clenched into a fist. His jaw tightened and ticked. Abe had already been grating his nerves and it seemed the other man had severed the last one completely.

Time to defuse.

You cleared your throat. “So, according to the map, we should take the next right.” With a grunt, the archer followed your directions.

By the time he shifted the car into park, your worry for his well being had reached a crescendo. His eyelids were drooping. A thin sheen of sweat was glistening on any patch of skin you could see. And when he opened the door, he put his boots on the ground and sat for a moment before grasping the top of the door to pull himself up and out.

Something was definitely wrong with Daryl.

He opened the back door and grabbed his bag, slamming it before Abraham could even blink.

“Alright, little lady. What seems to have his panties in a bunch?”

Maybe you really could find some duct tape.

“I have no clue.” You watched Daryl light a cigarette behind the car while he scoped out the strip mall for any signs of danger. Even while standing still, he listed sideways and struggled to right himself. “But it’s nothing good.”

“I’m gonna go on ahead. You check on your dreamboat. See if he needs to sit this one out.” The large man nodded, climbing out of the cramped backseat.

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Cause that’s gonna work.” Abraham just grinned at you and got a clear view of your middle finger in return. Your eyes settled on your archer once again, now leaning against the trunk much as he had the counter that morning. Abraham stopped without getting too close, cracking some joke that at least made himself smile before moving on. Daryl simply shook his head.

Your lips trilling, you finally opened the door and climbed out. Working your arms through the straps of your bag, you closed the car door and rounded the back as Daryl’s hand fell away from his stomach. He caught your narrowed gaze and grunted, pushing himself away from the car.

“S’get this over with.” He grumbled, stalking away at a slower than usual pace. You didn’t even have to walk briskly to catch up as you normally would.

“You—pulled a muscle?” You said in your best game show contestant voice. The man didn’t stop but his eyes slid over to regard you quizzically without turning his head.

“What?”

“You have a migraine?”

“Y/N.”

“Indigestion?”

“Stop.”

“Stubbed your toe?”

“Y/N.”

“A goddamn splinter in your left asscheek? Would you just stop and tell me what’s going on?!” You reached for his shoulder but he sidestepped straight into a graceless stagger, expression pinched and angry.

“Told ya already! Ain’t nothin’ wrong! Just wanna get this done so we can get back to focusin’ on those assholes that killed ‘er!” With a groan of frustration, he pulled his gun from the holster, but you didn’t miss the pain that flashed across his face. “Would ya just—just go that way? Ya got the list. M’gonna see if there’s anythin’ else we can use.”

“Daryl, I know you. Would you please—”

His arm straightened out past your head, pointing a finger on the direction Abe had gone. “G’on.”

Your nostrils flared but you spun on your heel and stomped away. The insufferable archer couldn’t possibly understand how well you knew him if he thought he was hiding anything by being a jerk. Daryl had three types of anger: angry, homicidal rage, and—the one you and everyone else saw the most—deflection. He would use the fear of provoking his ire to keep anyone from detecting that something wasn’t right, whether that be physical or emotional.

Daryl was grieving and guilt-laden. No one could ever make him feel worse than he could on his very own, but per your observations over the last couple of days, that wasn’t the entire issue. There was a physical ailment of some sort. Precarious steps, sweating, exhaustion, poor appetite.

Your stomps slowed to a crawl before your feet were just no longer moving. Abraham had caught sight of you by then, nodding that he had located the pharmacy, but you didn’t notice.

“Oh, my god.” He would have told you, right? You, of all people. There’s no way he wouldn’t have, he wouldn’t have risked everyone. You were already running back to the spot where you had gone your separate ways, the tall redhead’s boots pounding the pavement behind you, but Daryl was no longer there. Not that you thought he would have just stood there anyway.

“What’s all hubbub, bub?” Abe called from just behind you.

You didn’t answer. You continued to take corners and weave in and out of alleys between shops, your gun drawn but not even poised to aim. “Daryl?” You called near frantically. The groans and snarls of hungry corpses grew nearer, sending your heart pumping into overdrive. “Daryl?!”

Rounding into an alley, his name was on the tip of your tongue when a tight grip on your bag yanked you inside the door you had nearly passed right up. With a squeak, you made to raise your weapon only for an overly warm hand to push it back down.

“Y’soundin’ the dinner bell out there or somethin’? S’gotten into ya?” Daryl snapped in a harsh whisper. His face was inches from yours, his hand still folded over your own. His skin was on fire.

Oh god, no.

Abraham’s shadow blocked most of the light from outside the storage room, your words spilling into the shadows. “Daryl, are you bit?” His hand was snatched away as if you had slapped it.

“The fu—no, I ain’t bit. Y’think I wouldn’a told ya?” Daryl hissed, turning to head further into the building.

“I’m beginning to wonder.” You laughed wryly. He just kept walking. “Then you’re sick.”

There came a frustrated groan from the silhouette walking in front of you in the poorly lit area. “Give it a rest, would ya?”

“You have a fever. I felt it. You’re burning up.”

“S’my blood pressure hittin’ the roof cause you’re pissin’ me off!”

You bit your tongue when Abraham chuckled from somewhere behind you. “Who needs the good ol’ boob tube when you’ve got relationships in the end times?” You barely stopped yourself from aiming your gun at the man. There’s a time and a place was a concept with which Abe was drastically unfamiliar.

“Would you stop waking please? I know you’re sick or—or you’re hurt. Just talk to me. I only—”

“M’a grown ass man, Y/N! Don’t need ya tryin’a be my mama!” He grabbed the handles to a set of heavy metal doors, but didn’t try to open them yet. “Get on back an’ find the pharmacy. Gonna meetcha there.”

“Daryl—”

A large hand came to lay heavily on your shoulder, fingers squeezing with a tenderness that brought tears springing to your eyes. “Come on, chickadee. I think we should get on over to that pharmacy.” Daryl was still gripping the handles, his head bowed, the door remaining unopened. “Come on now.”

You swallowed hard with the first step back, wiping angrily at your eyes as you turned to push past Abraham. “Let’s get the shit and go home.” Stepping outside, you squinted against the sun and glanced to your right where the walkers shuffled by in the back alley. They hadn’t noticed you. When a solid thud sounded from behind you, there was no hesitation in rolling your eyes. “Jesus, Abe. Be quiet.”

“Wasn’t me.”

You twisted to regard him, finding thick eyebrows raised while he shook his head. “Daryl.” His name came out across a breath. You pushed past the large man for a second time and navigated through the dimness to where you had left the archer at the door. A dark heap laid against the bottom of the entryway, unmoving. “Daryl? Oh god, Abe!”

“Ssh. The walkin’ uglies are gettin’ closer. We should—oh, shit.”

You were already on your knees, feeling the dry heat of fever in Daryl’s skin when you took his face into your hands. He was no longer sweating; simply burning. “Daryl. Daryl, please open your eyes.” With frantic movements, you started patting him down, moving clothing to examine his skin. “Abe, the flashlight.”

The redhead scrambled to shrug off his bag and pull the device from the side pocket. He clicked it on. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Hold it steady.” Parting Daryl’s vest, you began unbuttoning his shirt. “Turn your head.”

“I’ve seen a man’s chest before, darlin’.”

“Turn your fucking head, Abraham!” You shouted, flinching when you heard a snarl that was much closer than the rest. “Give me the light please.” Your left hand held Daryl’s shirt closed, the buttons undone, while your right hand extended and gestured with urgency. “Please, Abe. Give me the light and go see how many there are—if you can handle them.”

He glanced between you and Daryl, obviously not understanding but did as you asked. Once he had walked out of sight, you lowered your head with a long exhale. Over the months you had known him, Daryl had allowed himself to feel less and less defined by his scars. That didn’t mean he wanted to parade them in front of everyone, even if the individual had already seen them. You and Carol seemed to be the only exceptions to that rule.

The flashlight held beneath your chin, you parted his shirt, the culprit for his symptoms staring you in the face. A bandage covered the lower left side of his abdomen. It was clean but the skin just around the edges was an angry red. Nostrils flaring, you peeled away the gauze and then let go, the tape resticking to small areas. The flashlight fell to the concrete floor.

“You are un-fucking-believable, Daryl Dixon.”

The bullet wound was still open, torn and gaping from his own success in removing the slug, lined with crusts of yellow and a sickly shade of green inside. You knew what this was, this was his punishment. For himself. The burns for Beth. An untreated bullet wound for Denise. He wanted to hurt until he made it right.

“Goddamn you.” You sobbed, removing the bandage entirely. Bowing over him, you let your forehead drop against his chest, shoulders shaking with tears you no longer cared to suppress. No. No, you couldn’t break down. Daryl needed help.

Abe wasn’t fighting. Aside from the distant snarls and scrapes of shuffling feet, you heard nothing.

“Abe?” You called as loudly as you dared, sniffling, your face wet with tears and snot. “Abraham?”

“I’m here, girly.” He appeared within your sight, gore-covered knife in hand. “Got the ones outside.

“He was shot. It’s—it’s infected.” You scrambled to close Daryl’s shirt and picked up the flashlight, the beam trembling. “Would you—I need to go to the pharmacy. We’ll need the meds—everything that’s there. Can you stay with him?” He was shaking his head before you even asked.

“I’m gonna take care of that pharmacy. Then we’ll load up tall, dark, and broody. We’ll go home and get him all fixed up, you hear me?” He called your name quietly and crouched down when you just kept staring at Daryl. “He’s gonna be just fine. He’s got you lookin’ after him.” Your wet gaze fought to meet Abraham’s, finally succeeding even as your eyes danced and darted in a valiant attempt to maintain it.

The inhale trembled just as harshly as the exhale. “Okay. Okay, take our bags, too. You’ll need the extra space. I’ll, um—I’ll barricade the door after you go. Shave and a haircut when you come back?”

“Two bits.” He grinned, rising to his full height. Your fingers grazed over Daryl’s jaw as you stood, loath to leave him for even that meager amount of time. Abe checked outside the entrance, each way, and turned around to walk backwards as you started closing the door. “If I’m not back in five minutes, just wait longer.” You rolled your red-rimmed eyes and shut him out.

Searching the room with the flashlight lifted, you found a desk. It looked sturdy, heavy. You really weren’t even sure you could move it alone. Placing the flashlight on the floor, you pushed against the side, grunting and huffing between your sniffles and hiccups, but it was all for naught. The thing didn’t budge.

“Fuck.” Spinning, you pressed your back against it and used your legs, finally getting the damn thing to slide, albeit noisily. You couldn’t manage getting it firmly against the door, but nothing was getting by it and that’s what counted. Snatching up the light, you grabbed one of a stack of metal folding chairs and ran back to Daryl’s side. He hadn’t moved an inch, but his head was rolling back and forth against the concrete.

“Y/N—”

Longing to just sit next to him, you stood the flashlight on its end next to your feet and jammed the chair beneath the door handles. The dead weren’t coordinated or cognizant and could only open the door by accident but it was possible and you were taking no chances.

Back on your knees, you leaned over him, smoothing back his sweat-slick hair. “I’m here, love. I’m mad as hell but I’m here.” The heat radiating from him made your stomach churn. You pressed a palm to his cheek, his forehead, flipping your hand over to do the same.

“S’my fault. She’s dead—gone an’ s’on me.” He started to sit up, finding he couldn’t, either too weak or in too much pain. Daryl had a high tolerance for hurt, so it was likely the former.

“Ssh. Stay still.” His hand moved toward the exposed wound. You caught his wrist and brought his palm to your lips, kissing and lowering it back to the floor. “Nothing’s your fault.”

“You’re s’posed to say that cause ya love me.”

You laughed quietly. “Maybe, but I mean it. She wanted to go, Daryl.” Petting his hair in tender strokes, you watched his eyes struggle to remain open. They were only slits of bloodshot and blue as it was. There was a thud scrape thud outside.

“You’re pretty.” Daryl slurred, head turning to chase your touch when you pulled away to twist toward the alley door, blocked by several shelves and other junk. No coordinated knock, no light seeping inside. Walkers.

“That’s the fever talking.” Out of an unfortunate practiced habit, you checked his pulse, finding it thready, too fast.

“Nah. Always pretty. Even when I ain’t cookin’ from the inside out.” His eyes were closed, rolling beneath the lids.

“And you’re handsome. Even when you are cooking from the inside out.” You mused, tracing his jaw with a fingertip. The corner of his mouth ticked, as close to a smile as you were likely to get. “Abraham went to clear the pharmacy. Gonna get you all cleaned up. Head home. You’re gonna be in a bed for a while.”

“I like the bed.” You were wrong. Now, he was smirking, eyelids fluttering. “‘Specially when you’re in it too.” His hand left the cold floor and landed lightly on your right hip, fingers weakly flexing. “Could take advantage’a me right now.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed in earnest, “now I know it’s the fever talking.” It was a true statement. Daryl almost never initiated physical intimacy, but he also never turned you down when you craved it.

When your relationship entered into sexual territory, you thought he was only doing it because he wanted you to be happy, guilt had consumed you. As if his Y/N sense had tingled, he had reassured you, promised that he wanted it too but just didn’t know how to show it, how to come to you with his own needs. He was a patient and gentle lover, contrary to his rough and rugged exterior. He was comfortable showing you that side, that affection, behind closed doors. That’s all you could ever ask for, ever would ask for.

“Wanna kiss ya.” His hand carved a trail up your side, fingertips grazing your breast but not lingering. His hot palm settled on the side of your neck. “I love ya. Gimme a kiss.”

Smiling brightly at this vulnerability and feverish show of true emotion, feelings that would never receive a voice— even with you—you leaned down and brushed your lips over his. His mouth trembled as he began to shiver, chills setting in from his body fighting the infection, fever burning unchecked. “Easy, tiger.” You cooed against his mouth. “I love you too. You stay in bed when we get back and I’ll give you whatever you want, but for now, I just need you to rest for me, okay?”

“Whatever my girl wants, she gets.” He grinned, silly and lopsided, as you pulled away for a clear look at his face. Even in this state, you had not a single doubt that if Abe returned at that very moment, Daryl would morph into a scowling, grumpy asshat. Oh, how you were going to tease him later. He deserved it for hiding that injury from you.

Minutes ticked by, and it felt like hours. How long had Abraham been gone? Daryl was trying to roll over, attempting to curl in on himself, but you managed—with frighteningly little effort—to keep him on his back. When he groaned, arching his upper half with a hand trying to press against the wound, you caught his wrist again. “Ssh ssh ssh, leave it alone. I know it hurts but it’s infected enough as it is.” He didn’t appear to have any walker blood on his hands from what you could see with the dim flashlight beam but you’d take no chances.

“M’sorry I lied to ya.” Now he just sounded miserable, your heart clenching and aching despite your frustration.

“I know you are. You can make it up to me later. Right now, I just need you to rest and hang on, okay?” Your fingers carded through his hair, catching on tangles and snarls. You’d help him wash it later, give him the sweet attention he so desperately needed while hurting so deeply, physically and emotionally.

He went quiet after that, still trying to reposition, whimpering when you wouldn’t allow it.

“I know, baby.” His pain so bare, ailing from the infection, you could hardly find it within you to be angry with him. He had punished himself enough. He didn’t need the weight of your irritation on top of it. You would need to talk to him, but you’d have to hold back, douse that flicker of anger that he didn’t allow you to help him carry the emotions that were weighing on him so heavily.

Knock knock, na-knock knock.

“Abe.” You whispered, beginning to rise to your feet when you felt a weak tug at the bottom hem of your shirt. Daryl’s eyes were wide and unfocused, the pretty blue dull from fever.

“Don’t go.”

With a sorrowful look of apology, you worked his fingers loose, lifting his hand to your mouth to kiss his knuckles. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back. Not even leaving this room.” He didn’t respond, but allowed you to lower his hand back onto the floor. Standing, you quickly crossed the distance to the door, placed your back against the desk to slide it away. You barely achieved it, feeling wrung out from Daryl’s openness under the influence of his feverish state.

“We hit the jackpot.” The redheaded man held up two bags, the contents nearly spilling out. The one on his back was equally as full.

“Did you see fever reducers? Tylenol? Ibuprofen? Aspirin?” You grabbed the side of the bag closest to you, nearly tipping it too far in your haste. Abe was talking behind you, reblocking the door while you walked back to Daryl, your hand sifting through the bag. Come on. You weren’t looking while you walked, your body on autopilot while your mind concentrated on getting your boyfriend what he needed. When you could see a yellow label toward the bottom, just barely visible beneath the tubings, fluids, and other pills, you nearly shouted in relief. Bayer Genuine Aspirin. “Thank god. Abe, your canteen.”

You were already opening the bottle, punching through the seal. “Here.” Abraham tapped the container against your shoulder. With two tablets already in your hand, you took hold of the canteen and motioned for him to unscrew the lid.

“Thanks.” In the moments of your absence, Daryl had finally succeeded in turning onto his side, legs drawn up, body quaking. “Daryl.” There was no room on his opposite side. He was too close to the doors. “Daryl, I need you to take some meds for me.” The only reply was a groan while he pulled his knees closer to his chest only to jerk them away with a choked off shout, the movement aggravating the wound. “Daryl.”

“Need me to, uh—” Abe waved a hand toward the whole of Daryl. You knew what he meant. Even as you nodded, you could already hear the grumbled complaints about you allowing him to be manhandled. “Okay, Prince Charming, just need to sit you up a little for these pills. Then we’ll get the fuck out of here.” He started with the left arm, sliding a hand beneath it to roll the archer just enough to work his other hand underneath the opposite arm. “Upsy daisy.” Abraham moved slowly, his eyes telling a tale of worry when Daryl grimaced and groaned. “He’s hotter than a jalapeno’s ass.” His voice was quiet but there was an urgency there. “Give him those pills and then we gotta go.”

He was right. If the fever continued to climb, there was the risk of febrile seizures. No one wanted that to happen. “Here, take these.” You pressed one of the pills to the archer’s bottom lip, a spasm of pain crossing his face.

“Ain’t takin’ your stupid pills.” Daryl snapped—damn near literally—jerking out of Abe’s hold just to fall back into it. You reeled back, just from the sudden movement, not out of fear. Never fear. Not with him.

“Daryl, stop.” You walked on your knees to get a little closer, trying again. “I need to get started on getting that fever down.” Chapped lips pulled away from teeth in a snarl, his hand coming up to slap yours. The tablets disappeared into the shadows. “Daryl, what the—”

“Said I ain’t takin’ your fuckin’ pills, Merle!”

Your breath stuttered, saucer eyes flitting up to Abraham and back down. “It’s Y/N, Daryl. Merle—Merle isn’t here.” The canteen was placed next to the bag of medical supplies, keeping a few feet of distance between that and Daryl, in case he lashed out again.

“Think I dunno s’goin’ on?” Your eyes slid up to Abraham as he lowered himself behind your archer, large hands relocating to grip Daryl’s biceps. “I take the drug’a the week an’ you steal the rent money to get more! Ain’t fuckin’ happenin’!”

“It’s just aspirin. And it’s just me and Abe here with you.” He tried to lean toward you, halted by the other man’s strong grip. He was too weak to do much about it. “Merle’s not here. Do you remember where he is?” You risked reaching toward him, fever-bright eyes tracking every movement right up until your palm rested on his shin.

His breathing picked up as he lowered his head. It hung forward with his hair acting as a protective curtain. “Dead.” He rasped. “Merle’s dead.” You would have asked Abraham to let him go but he’d likely topple over without the support.

“I’m sorry.” You squeezed his leg, tilting your head when his whole body tensed.

“I hitcha.” The tone of his voice was both incredulous and remorseful. “Y/N, m’so—”

“Mm mm. None of that. You’re hurt. You’re sick. You’re burning up.” There was a sound from behind the double doors. “Daryl.”

“I’ll take ‘em.”

You didn’t wait for him to change his mind. Shaking two more tablets from the bottle, you ducked your head to encourage him to look at you, the small white tablet was pressed against his bottom lip again. “Come on, love.” The second pill was behind your other three folded fingers. That left your other hand free to grab the canteen.

His lips parted just as the first walker scratched against the other side of the doors. With time quickly running out, you pressed the pill past his lips, following it up with the second. You rapidly opened the canteen and brought it to his mouth before he could attempt to dry swallow the meds, smiling approvingly when he tilted his chin upward to allow you to help him. That in itself spoke volumes about his current state.

“Let me just rinse the wound and put some gauze over it and we can go.” Another thump had both you and Abraham looking at each door. “Shit.”

“Shit’s right. I think we’re boxed in.” He was careful when easing Daryl back into a supine position, hovering to make sure you asked nothing else of him. “Take care of him. I’ll go take a look at how deep the shit we have to wade through is.”

“Okay.” You nodded, digging through the bags. If there was nothing else, the water from the canteen would have to do until you could get him back to Alexandria. The wound needed disinfecting horribly, but your options were limited. Your lip was becoming sore, indented from your teeth pressing into it while you searched. “Please, please, please.” When your hand wrapped around the bottle of rubbing alcohol, you could have sobbed. Daryl was barely holding on to consciousness when you turned to him, breaking the seal on the bottle cap. “This is gonna suck, baby.”

He didn’t answer. You didn’t really expect it of him. What you did expect was the almost violent reaction the moment the cold burn of the liquid washed over the wound. His eyes flew open with a scream that you were likely to hear in your nightmares. It was easy to catch his shoulder with one hand but keeping him there was another problem entirely. His hands scrambled toward his stomach, fingers clawed as if he could scrape out the lingering sting of the alcohol. Forced to sit the bottle aside, somehow carefully enough not to spill it, you caught his wrists, one and then the other, alternating back and forth to keep his hands away from the festering wound. The doors trembled with the renewed efforts of the dead following the noise.

“Daryl. Daryl, listen to me. I know it hurts but I just cleaned it. It’ll stop soon.” His head fell against your collarbone with an accompanying whimper that made your eyes burn with moisture. “It’ll stop soon.” He was at least cognizant enough to heed your instructions, his hands falling limply to the floor, only for his nails to scrape back and forth over the concrete. “I need to put a dressing over it, cover it until we get home.”

“We’re boxed in.” Abraham said before even rounding the work table that blocked your view of him. “We need to wait it out and hope they move on.”

Your head was shaking back and forth, chin bumping into Daryl’s temple. “We can’t wait. He needs help now.” You had, at some point, wrapped your arms around the shivering archer, rubbing his back as he panted against your neck.

“M’okay.” He whispered, likely not loud enough for Abe to hear.

“No, you’re not.” It wasn’t supposed to come out as authoritative as it did but it had the desired result.

“Okay. M’not.” Daryl agreed, rubbing his fiery forehead against your skin. “M’sorry.”

“Stop it. It’s done.” You let your tone soften. He didn’t need anymore weight on his shoulders. “We just need to get you outta here.”

“You could find a way out. Leave me here, come back for me.” He rasped. You weren’t even sure he was entirely grasping reality at that point. He couldn’t be if he thought that you would ever leave him behind.

“We’re not doing that.” Abe interjected before you could even summon a refusal. “We’ll find a way. Just hang tight, man.” With another glance toward the door you were perched in front of, he looked at you. “You too, buttercup.” With that, he stole the flashlight and began searching the room.

You turned your full attention to Daryl. You couldn’t see enough to cover the wound but maybe you could still fumble through it. Reaching into your bag, you dug through the newly acquired supplies to find the few things you had brought with you. He was moving against you but you thought nothing of it until you heard the distinct clink of his zippo. His hand was vibrating when the flame lit up the small area around you.

“Thank you.” A kiss was pressed against the crown of his head while you relieved him of the lighter and placed it on the floor. The shivering had worsened and you worried again about seizures just as you found the gauze and tape you had brought with you. The rolls were almost spent but you likely had enough to cover the wound at least. “Will you lie back for me?” Daryl nodded silently and let you guide him until he was on his back, body jerking as the cold of the floor seeped through his clothing to cool his feverish skin. His eyes were barely slits.

It was a quick process, the bandage taped down and his shirt buttoned up. Replacing the lid on the bottle of alcohol, you crawled up to sit above him, pulling his head onto your lap. He turned his face against your stomach and sighed as your fingers carded through his hair, massaging his scalp.

“You’ll be okay.” You have to be.

It had to be hours that had passed, Daryl’s skin cooling only to burn again. He was unconscious, restless and moving constantly; head tossing, fingers flexing, legs drawing up only to straighten. How could you have let him get this bad to begin with? You knew something was wrong and you told no one, thought you could deal with it on your own. He was your boyfriend, your person, and you allowed him to suffer.

“Found a air duct.”

You startled, causing Daryl to flinch but not wake. “What?” Abe shined the light above your head, jerking it to have you looking up to a series of large ducts that likely led to other areas of the building, maybe ones that were not surrounded by the dead.

“We can crawl through, find an empty room. Go out a window or a door if there is one.”

The idea was sound except you weren’t sure Daryl could move on his own and dragging him would take longer than you were afraid you could afford. “What about Daryl? He can’t—”

“He’ll have to, or I could go. Bring back help, but those rotters are gonna take down those doors sure as my short and curlies match my head.”

I did not need to know that. Regardless, he was right. There was no other way. The doors beside you were trembling as hard as Daryl, soon to buckle under the weight and efforts of walkers seeking a meal. With a deep breath, you nodded.

“Wake him up.” Abraham ordered softly. “I’m gonna get one of these open.”

Another nod but he was already walking away. Looking down at Daryl, his face completely hidden against your belly, you stroked his cheek. “I need you to wake up.” He shifted and groaned, but didn’t rouse. “Daryl, baby, you’ve got to wake up. We have to get you out of here.”

“M’awake.” His voice was muffled against your flannel, syllables jarring with the shivers wracking his frame. “Where are we?” He took a deep breath while he turned his head, as if he had been suffocating himself against you.

“You don’t remember?” Worry churned in your gut, crawling up into your chest with a sickening grip on your heart.

“Can’t—can’t think.” His eyes struggled to open, face contorted in discomfort. He began trying to sit up, groaning and hissing through his teeth when you helped. His left arm wrapped around his middle as he looked around. “We—we went on a run.”

“Yeah, and we’re kinda trapped.” He snapped his head around to look at you, swaying slightly. “Dead at both doors. Abe found some grated ceiling ducts that run above. We’re gonna crawl through them and find a spot where we can get out.” You licked your lips and leaned toward him to catch his wandering attention. “Can you do it?”

“Ain’t got no choice.” Bracing his abdomen, he shifted to the side, slowly getting his knees beneath him. When you hastily stood, hands on his ribs, he said nothing against the assistance.

“Abe, you get one?” You called.

“Almost.” There was a loud clang. “Strike that. Got one.”

“On our way over.” Daryl was on his feet but still doubled over, trembling so intensely that you weren’t sure his legs would hold his weight. “Let me help.” It wasn’t a request. Firmly taking the wrist of the hand he had braced just above his knee, you pulled his arm over your shoulder. The fever was raging beneath his skin, boiling his blood into vapor. He needed the infirmary. Carol could start an IV. You could wipe him down with cold cloths. He could get antibiotics. The wound would need to stay open until the infection was under control. You could do none of those things until you got him back home. “A little further.” You encouraged, barely looking away from him to where Abe was walking toward you.

“We gotta get while the gettin’s good.” He pulled Daryl’s arm away from you, barely letting the archer’s feet touch the ground as he hauled him toward the duct. There was already a crate waiting to give you all enough height to reach.

“Abe,” you said as you studied the escape route, moving around to gather your bag onto your back and toss Daryl’s up and inside. “I need to go first. Then Daryl, then you.” Daryl was dazed, staring at you but seemingly seeing right through you. “I can scout for a door or window. Daryl behind me. If he struggles, I need you behind him so you can push him along.”

His eyes focusing, the archer squinted. “M’fine. Don’t need no pushin’.”

You stepped forward, his slouch against Abraham bringing him to perfect eye level. “If you say m’fine one more time, you won’t need to worry about walkers, Daryl Dixon.” With a huff, you side stepped them and climbed up on the crate, grabbing the edges and hoisting yourself up. “All I’ve heard is m’fine and ain’t nothin’ wrong for days and now you’re half dead and surrounded by walkers. I swear to god, I’m going to throttle you.” You rambled, not really even caring if he heard you.

Even if he didn’t, Abe did.

“Phew, man. I wouldn’t wanna be you when we get back.” He helped Daryl onto the crate, hands hovering to catch him as the archer began to pull himself up, his arms shaking violently with the effort. Abraham had to duck and let him use his shoulders and back to make it inside.

You crawled forward enough to make room for both men, turning on your side so you could look down to watch. Daryl made it onto his hands and knees, managing to crawl out of the way before he lowered himself gingerly, letting his forehead rest against the cool metal.

“Alright, girly! We’re all in! Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

You turned without a word, crawling forward. The ducting turned to the left and then the right, bringing you just above a herd, all trying to break through the double doors you had just left behind. Your movements were slow and careful, the drag of Daryl’s pack being nails-on-chalkboard loud. You didn’t want to attract attention and have them trying to follow the sound. It was fortunate that the combined groans and snarls concealed the movement above but Daryl was struggling.

You looked back, lifting your arm out of the way to get a clear view. He wasn’t crawling. He was on his belly, hooking his fingers into the holes of the grating below to pull himself forward, pushing with his legs as best he could. Abraham was just behind him, telling stories and jokes with a few words of encouragement in between. You needed to move faster, leave them a little behind so you could find a way out.

“He’s flagging, Y/N.” Abraham called out quietly after a few more minutes of crawling and dragging. You stopped again, and looked back. Daryl was barely pulling himself along, his sick and injured body just having no more of it.

“He’s right here.” The man in question groaned.

“Fuck. Daryl. Daryl, stop.” His body went limp with the exception of his heaving breaths, cheek against grating. “Rest. I’m going to find a way out and I’ll come back.” Abraham nodded from behind the archer, who merely turned his hand with a thumbs up. You left both bags and crawled with purpose, watching the areas below you for walkers, where you would slow down and minimize any sounds. Right, left, left. There were forks in the ductwork. You had to remember how to get back to where you had left the two men. Right, left, left. Your brain repeated as you headed straight. Looking below you, there was a well lit room. It was quiet aside from the distant groans blocked by a door.

Bingo.

You crawled until you found the opening, lifting the thick metal and turning it so you could drop it to the floor with a clang. You stayed still with bated breath. The door did not jar and the sounds remained distant. Lowering to be flat on your belly, you peeked out to get a full view. The room was empty; an office. A decaying body lay in the corner, jeans and a logoed t-shirt with a gun laying on their chest. Poor bastard. The door would lead out into the halls but there were windows. No shadows passed by in the few minutes you offered. When you felt dizzy from hanging upside down, you wiggled backward.

With three quick breaths you let yourself fall out and crash to the floor with a decent thud and a groaned ow. It took a moment to catch your breath, your back protesting as you levered yourself to your feet, quickly devising a strategy. The desk was just as heavy as the one in the warehouse area, sliding and catching on carpet this time rather than the smooth concrete. Somehow, you managed to get it in front of the door.

Climbing onto the desk, you winced at what was bound to be a painful disaster. Keeping your eyes on the edge of the duct, you walked to the far end of the structure. Daryl needs you. Daryl needs you. Daryl needs you. The running start was minuscule but it proved to be enough. While one hand slipped, one latched on and you were dangling from the vent. With nothing and no one beneath you, you had to grab hold with your other hand and pull yourself up.

“I knew I shouldn’t have faked cramps in PE class.” You grunted. The grates in the bottom of the duct made pulling yourself up a little easier once you could reach them. After what seemed like an eternity, you were finally inside and wasted not a single second, moving hastily, almost clumsily. Left. Right. Right.

“Daryl. Abe.” You breathed once they were in sight. Abraham, however, stared back at you with concern, stricken.

“Y/N, I didn’t know what to do.” You shook your head, clueless, and looked at Daryl. He was on his side, breathing in shallow pants. “Turned him on his side, that’s all—”

“Fuck.” Seizure. You crawled past the bags and brushed the hair away from Daryl’s face. The other man was talking, but you didn’t hear him anymore, feeling the inferno beneath the archer’s skin. “We gotta go. You push, I’ll pull.” With Abe’s help, you were able to maneuver the unconscious archer into his back.

You had a bag hanging from each shoulder, giving you even less room to shuffle properly, but you kept moving, tugging under Daryl’s arms while Abraham pushed upward using the sides of the archer’s knees. It was a long and grueling trek with you whispering to him all along the way.

“You’ll be okay.”

Just before you were set to pull him again, he groaned. “Y/N?”

“I’m here.” You let go and leaned over him. “I’m right here. Found a way. Just need to get you there.” He gave a noncommittal hum, blinking open tired eyes when a tear hit his cheek. You could have sworn it evaporated.

“Feel like shit.” He grumbled. Your hands hovered while he made slow work of turning himself over, rising onto his hands and knees.

“Look like it too, man.” Abe teased. Bless him for trying to lighten things up.

“Thanks.” Daryl mumbled, raising his head to meet your eyes. “We goin’ or not?” His entire frame shook.

You wanted to shove more aspirin at him, needed to, but letting him move on his own while he could would get you out of the ducts and closer to the car. “Uh, yeah—yeah, let’s go.” You were actually stuck crawling backwards but it wasn’t the worst thing. It gave you the opportunity to keep an eye on him. He seemed to be doing okay, moving slowly, clumsily, but doing so on his own. In the conscious back of your mind, running on autopilot, you kept up with the ducts. Right. Left. Left. “How’re you doing?”

“Peachy, sunshine. Just peachy.” There was no bite to the words, just exhaustion and pain. “How much further?” He was tiring again, movements becoming even more sluggish. If he stopped for a break, it was likely you and Abraham would be dragging him again.

“Not much.” You looked over your shoulder, backing around the last turn. “Almost there.” The duct began to grow brighter with the sunlight from the windows below through the missing grate. You looked back just in time to not fall out. “Okay, let me go take a look.” Daryl nodded, remaining on all fours even when his arms seemed barely able to take his weight.

You slid one bag at a time off your shoulder and out of the opening. Going out feet-first made it so much easier than the first time. You landed easily and pulled the bags with you toward the windows, checking outside and then listening against the door. You didn’t even hear the walkers from earlier. Maybe they had moved on to where the others were trying to break through.

“It’s clear!” You called up quietly. Before you could offer any insight, Daryl tumbled out of the vent and landed with thud and a sharp exhale. “Jesus, Daryl!” Grabbing beneath his arms, you helped him move out of the way for Abe to tumble out in a similar fashion. “You okay?” You tossed over your shoulder, propping Daryl against the wall to look him over.

“That was a bitch.”

You cracked a smile and nodded at the archer. “He’s fine.” Daryl snorted weakly. His head dropped back against the wall while you busied yourself with finding the aspirin and the canteen. “Here.” His eyes were barely open, reserves spent. “Come on, baby, work with me here. We still have to get you to the car but I need you to take these first.” Sucking in a breath, he raised his head and opened his mouth. He didn’t even try to take them on his own. This is so bad. You weren’t sure if he even knew what was going on, if he would remember anything after collapsing by the doors.

“Gonna need you to get the car, girly.”

“What?” You turned, almost spilling the water on Daryl. “Sorry.” You carried on with getting the pills onto his tongue and holding the container for him while he took two long swallows, turning his head away to let you know he was finished. Brushing back his sweaty hair, you leaned in to kiss his forehead and then joined Abe at the window. “I’m not leaving him.” You focused on where the three of you were in proximity to the car, ignoring the look the taller redhead gave you.

“Listen, I know that, to you, no one will ever be better at taking care of him than you,” when you shot him a look, he held up a hand, “but you’re faster and you can get the car to right there at the end of the alley, I can carry him out. You can’t.”

Crossing your arms, you twisted to look back at your boyfriend. He seemed to be caught somewhere between awake and asleep. His skin was pale in direct contrast to the fevered flush on his cheeks and chest. His eyelids were purplish, lips nearly colorless. You didn’t like it, but it was the most logical option.

“Alright.” You whispered, nodding as if responding to yourself. “Alright.” Turning, you dropped your arms and crouched down beside Daryl, digging through his pockets for the keys. “Daryl.” He hummed but didn’t move. “I’ll be right back, okay?” When you stroked a finger down the edge of his jaw, he leaned into the touch, scowling when it pulled away. “I love you.” You wanted to make sure he knew, just in case; wanted him to hear it.

“Me too, sunshine.” He said breathily, face relaxing. You thought he had passed out but then he inhaled deeply and lifted his head, opening dull, unfocused eyes. “Where are we?” You didn’t answer. Keys acquired, you strode purposefully for the windows and opened the nearest one.

Halfway out, you fixed a warning look on Abraham. “Don’t let anything happen to him.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout him. Just worry ‘bout me if he comes to his senses again and you’re not here. Go on, now.”

There was no way you couldn’t smile—because it was true. It didn’t matter what was happening to Daryl, if you were missing, he was razing everything in his path to find out why and where. He might not actually speak the words I love you but he would show you constantly. You were just fine with that. You didn’t need verbal declarations from a man that had literally almost died for you several times over and then shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

It had been one of those moments that you had bit the bullet, so to speak, and flung yourself into his arms, kissing him breathless. He had turned several shades of red afterward but then things began to change. He was more open with you, wanted to be around you, wanted you to be around him. And then there you were, several months later, and he was yours. You weren’t sure he knew the name of a single woman in Alexandria that wasn’t in your group. He didn’t give any of them a second glance, regardless of how they swooned over him.

Then your thoughts turned to Denise. She hadn’t really been one of your group, not in the beginning but her love for Tara and tenderness toward all of you had integrated her into the circle of survivors you called family. She had always been kind to Daryl. Making sure he ate and had vitamins—even if he said it looked like shit. She wasn’t afraid of him like so many others had been.

It was why he was taking her loss just as hard as Tara was.

Your feet touched asphalt outside the window without a sound, something you had picked up from Daryl. Creeping forward, close to the wall, you leaned around the corner toward the parking lot at the same time as pulling one of your knives from the thigh-sheath. The car was within sight. A quick run over and you’d pull it around. You’d have Daryl home and hooked up to an IV before nightfall. Staying low, you continued to stick close to the outside of the buildings. You would only put yourself out in the open when you needed to make the last sprint. Unfortunately for you, you weren’t paying enough attention to the wall you were sliding against.

The open door caught you by surprise, the walker that stumbled out of it, even more so. “Shit!” The old man barrelled into your side, knocking you into a concrete beam and down to the ground, the side of your face dragging over the rough asphalt while your knife went careening. Using your knee, you kept the body held off of you, one hand smacking away the cold, slimy fingers trying to dig into your skin. Your other hand fumbled for your second knife. Abandoning that endeavor, you concentrated on getting the damn corpse off of you.

With a swift movement, you grabbed the tattered jacket the body still wore and pulled sideways, using the momentum to swing yourself on top of the walker. Obtaining the upper hand, you were able to snatch your knife and drive it through the eye socket with a disgusting squelch. You sat straddled over the body for a moment, catching your breath. The right side of your face burned, the thick coppery scent of blood in the air.

“Asshole.” You pulled the knife free and stabbed it one more time just for pissing you off. With no other immediate threats, you took the chance to snatch up your other knife and resheath it before your boots pounded the pavement all the way to the car. From over the top, you could see the split up sections of the herd wandering the different alleys next to the building. None of them seemed to be heading to where you had come from, but sometimes they were sneaky bastards and you didn’t know until they were on top of you. Glaring daggers at the body you had left on the pavement, you mumbled “case in point.”

Behind the driver's seat, you started the engine and immediately moved toward the alleyway you had exited, throwing the shifter into park. You heard him before you could even get out of the car.

“The fuck ya let ‘er go out alone?!”

“Calm down, amigo. She’s just gonna get the car and bring—”

“Why didn’t you go get the car?!”

“Someone’s gonna need to carry you when you end up eatin’ shit cause you won’t calm the hell down!”

“M’goin’ to get ‘er.”

“I promised her I wouldn't let anything happen to you.”

“Don’t make promises ya can’t keep. Y’should know there ain’t many ya can anymore.” His voice had quietened but you could hear him moving as you got closer. The window opened just as you stepped below it. Grabbing the pane, Daryl started to haul himself out but stopped with a startled shit! and nearly fell back inside. “Don’t fuckin’ do that!” He hissed.

“Was it your turn to ring the dinner bell, loudmouth?” You grinned, only for it to widen when he flipped you off. “Abe! Toss out the bags. I’ll load them while you help him.”

“Ain’t needin’ no help.” Daryl argued, hand pressed against the side of his stomach while he struggled to climb out the window. Abraham was shaking his head fondly and tossing you the bags through the second window. You juggled all three bags at the same time, throwing them into the trunk. A group of two dozen or saw walkers had ventured out of the alley near the body of the one you’d encountered.

“Shit.” You made it back just as Daryl’s boots hit the ground. He staggered sideways and bumped into the opposite wall, panting as if he’d run a marathon. “Idiot, you should have let him help.”

“I got it. M’good.” He straightened and put his hands on his hips then crossed them on the top of his head, trying to catch his breath.

“Baby, you don’t look good.” He didn’t flinch away when you reached for him. It was likely because he had been avoiding your touch to hide the fever, but that cat was long out of the bag. He simply looked miserable, lowering his head when your palm rested against his cheek. “Come on, walkers headed this way.”

Only then did he seem to notice the blood on your face. “What happened?” His overly warm fingers gripped your chin and turned your head while his other hand slapped flat against the wall to keep him upright.

“I’ll tell you on the way.” Smiling gently, you turned toward the car, catching the concerned look that came over Abraham’s face.

“I don’t—well, shit!” He bolted past you and caught Daryl under the arms before he could hit the ground. “Open the door, get in the back and help me get him in.” You didn’t need to be told twice. With the back door open, you watched Abe scoop up the archer in a bridal carry that you’d have to remind the man not to tease Daryl about later. With a nervous glance through the back window, you whined at the closing distance between the walkers and the car.

“Come on, come on.” Abe angled Daryl toward you so you could grab beneath his arms and pull him in with a little help from the other man. He arranged the archer’s legs to hang off the seat while his head was on your lap. The walkers were touching the back of the car by the time Abraham closed the driver’s side door. He said nothing but held a peace sign out the window as the herd grew smaller and smaller in the distance. Finally able to breathe, you kissed Daryl’s forehead and smoothed back his hair. “We’ll be home soon. You’re gonna be okay.”

You were sitting by the window in your room, drinking a hot cup of tea Carol had brought for you after the initial chaos of getting Daryl stable and settled had fizzled out.

There had been two seizures on the way back to Alexandria, his pulse hammering beneath the fire of his skin. Between you and Carol with Rick and Michonne grabbing anything that was needed, an IV was started, Daryl was stripped down and covered with a thin sheet, the wound was debrided, and you had cleaned his skin with cool cloths until the tea was ready.

Carol had gone to do inventory with what hadn’t been used or wouldn’t likely be needed in his recovery, leaving you alone with your archer. Your head fell back against the chair and rolled toward where Daryl lay. The sheet was just above his hip bones, letting air get to the freshly cleaned wound until the inflammation was down enough to be stitched—if it could be at all. His color was a little better, improved after only an hour of fluids.

He groaned, heading lulling toward you, a spasm of pain fluttering over his features before he relaxed again. Abandoning the mug on the window sill, you dragged your exhausted body to sit on the edge of the mattress and wrung out the cloth over the bowl next to the bed. The fever was still present but likely to improve now that he was resting and receiving antibiotics, the fluids keeping him hydrated against what the heat stole from him.

He groaned again, eyelids fluttering but not opening. “Ssh.” You hushed, wiping down his face and neck. “We’re home. We’re safe.” He remained still, but you continued to soothe him. “I’m here, baby.”

He didn’t stir again until deep in the night, eyes blinking open to find you sitting in a chair next to the bed, thumb stroking the top of his hand.

“Y/N.” He croaked, grimacing. Clearing his throat, he tried again with the same result.

“Let me get you some water.” You used your free hand to push against the chair arm but his fingers tightening their hold brought you to a halt. Brow drawing inward, you sat back down.

“M’fi—” He visibly choked down the words at your withering expression. “Yeah. Water, uh—uh, please.” He cleared his throat again and coughed. When his fingers loosened around your hand, you got up and went downstairs.

Carol came in the door while you filled the glass, walking past the kitchen before stepping backwards to peek her head in. “Hey.”

Tiredly, you returned the greeting, sitting the glass on the counter as she approached. With a gentleness that you needed, she rubbed circles on your back.

“Go easy on him.”

You tossed your head back with a sigh. “I know.” Leaning forward onto your elbows, you rubbed your hands over your face. “I’m just so angry with him, Carol. He could’ve died.” Her soft ministrations continued.

“You both need some rest. He needs to heal and you need to forgive him.”

With a smile that was hard to summon through your exhaustion, you picked up the glass and took her hand, squeezing it before letting go. “I already did.”

Your feet dragged with each step up the stairs, finding Daryl still awake when you entered the bedroom. “Can you sit up?”

“Think so.” His voice scraped across his vocal chords and he winced. His arms shook but you waited him out, letting him do it himself since he seemed to be fully aware.

“Here.” His hand trembled but he managed to drink on his own as well.

“Better?” You took the glass, sitting it on the bedside table. He responded with a quiet mhm and leaned forward so you could pile the pillows up behind him. “Daryl.” You could see the dread in his expression.

“M’sorry.” He picked at the skin around his thumbnail, looking down at his lap.

“I know. Daryl, look at me.” You caught his wrist as his thumb was in route to his mouth. Swallowing hard, he looked the other way entirely. “Baby, look at me.” The flush that was already present on his face grew darker, but he finally acquiesced to your request. “I’m not mad at you, but you scared me.”

“I know.”

You leaned toward him and brushed back his hair. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I know what happened, it—it hurt, but Daryl, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Why ain’t it, Y/N? Shouldn’a took her out there. Shouldn’a—” His voice cracked.

“It was her choice to go. She wanted to go.” Your hand left his hair to rest against his cheek. He absently leaned into the touch but didn’t move when you saw the realization flitter across his face. “You took a bullet to try and stop them. You did all you could.”

“Wasn’t enough.” He whispered, turning his head away from your palm. You felt anger rising up, itching to crawl out of your throat in the form of harsh words. The silence was deafening, the tension smothering. With a deep breath into your nose and out of your mouth, you remembered what you had told yourself.

“You don’t have to carry this alone. I know—I know what you do to—what you allow yourself to go through feels like a penance, but if you’d just let me, I can carry some of that weight.” He chewed his bottom lip, shifting slightly until he winced, his hand almost covering the open wound before he caught himself. “That’s what friends do, Daryl.” When he lowered his head, you ducked to hold his gaze. “It’s what couples do.”

When he released his lip, red and indented from the press of his teeth, his chin wobbled, nose twitching and eyes squinting against the tears that threatened to fall. “Ain’t—” he swallowed and sniffed, turning his head even further from you. “Ain’t yours to carry.”

You didn’t hesitate. “If it weighs on you, then it weighs on me. Let me help you. Let me be there.” Standing, you took the two small steps that brought you to where he sat, your fingers tenderly stroking his cheek before you gripped his chin and willed him to look at you. “Let me love you right.”

You had only seen Daryl cry twice; when he lost Merle and after the self inflicted burns when Beth was taken too soon. He hadn’t yet cried for Denise or for Tara. You weren’t sure he ever would.

Then the dam broke.

It started as a shaky breath, a whimper, but then his head dropped, his shoulders jerking with each sob. You said nothing while walking away, placing a hand on the knob to close the door. Carol was in the hallway, a towel on her arm, heading to shower, when she caught your eye. Her smile was sad, tight-lipped but she nodded. You returned the gesture and closed the door.

Daryl had drawn up his right knee, his elbow pressed into it so his hand was over his face. There wasn’t much room on the side he was occupying, so you lifted the tubing for his IV and crawled up to sit on the other side, pulling him against you without protest, his face against your collarbone.

“It’s okay. It's just us.” You whispered into his hair. “It’s just you and me and I’ve got you.” It was impossible to hold back your own tears, listening to him release all that pain, everything the wound only delayed. So you held him tight, weeping into his hair and letting him cry until his energy waned, his breaths evening out.

“M’gonna try.” He whispered suddenly, causing you to startle.

“Try?” You brushed his hair back and angled your head to see the side of his face.

“Try to—gonna try to letcha help.” He sniffled and nuzzled against your skin. “Letcha be there.”

“I’ll always be there. Promise.”

His arm wound around your middle and held tight. “Don’t make promises ya can’t keep.” You laid your cheek on the top of his head.

“I’m not, baby.” His head tilted back, forcing you to move, but your lips instantly pressed against his forehead. He looked so vulnerable, so tired, but yet so much lighter. “I’m not.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon whump #Spotify

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Text

•I knew you’d be back•

A/N: guys holy moly I’m so sorry it took me an eternity to finish this but I hope you like it!

Warnings: maybe spelling errors, killing, death, royal family after reader, Feyd, blood, arena fights

Your hair was sprawled out as you laid on your back, it casted over the sheets of Feyds bed. Your arms were comfortably crossed over your ribs. And Your feet dangled off the edge.

Feyd mostly matched your position as he laid next to you. His arm closest to you layed out in the space between both your bodies. He itched to wrap it around you and pull you closer to him.

But unfortunately, how things were currently was as close as he was going to get. He wished to be something more with you, but even just being close at your side as friends kept him content. Silence filled the room before you inhaled to speak.

“Do you miss me?”

Completely taken aback by your question, Feyd turned his head to the side to look at you. His face contorted into an unusual look of concern. Your face stared at the nothingness of his ceiling until your eyes snapped to the side and your head slightly followed

There was no answer from him. He looked from your eyes down longingly at your lips then back up. You were unreal to him, something otherworldly, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever seen, and the most important to him as well. When he came out of his thoughts he looked back to you. Your face still awaited an answer.

“Why would I need to, when you’re right here?” His voice is gentle but still holds a bit of his rasp. Before you thought of an answer Feyd inhaled and continued “And I’ll never have to, I won’t let anyone take you from me.” There was that murderous gleam in his eyes that you’ve seen a handful of times. It was never directed towards you, god never, Feyd-rautha couldn’t stand the thought of you getting injured by his own hands, and it filled him with rage thinking of it being by somebody else’s.

You smiled at him, seemingly grateful at his answer and promise of protection. He returned your smile and inched ever so slightly towards you. His eyes trailed around the features of your face, they stop at your lips once again. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. You glanced down at his pale lips in return. Your faces began to invade the gap between the both of you.

Feyds arm reaches up and his cold smooth hand cups your face and pulls you in. His body heats up at the contact initiated. You close your eyes….and so does he.

Feyd-rautha twitches awake.

His mind recalls the images produced from his sleeping state. He remembers the odd question you asked him and his heart rate picks up when he recollects the end of the fantasy. It was like this most nights. Dreams and visions of you invading his mind, moments he’s had with you and moments he had wished to have with you.

The harkonnen desperately wants you back. It has nearly been 6 months since you seemingly disappeared without a single trace of where you may have gone. You aren’t dead, that is all that Feyd-rautha knows. And it keeps him determined to find you.

———————————————————————

Your ship wasn’t anything fancy. It could stay in space for long periods of time and is undetectable under any radar. It keeps you hidden, and that’s what you need most, especially now.

When you were found out to be residing on Giedi prime, you knew you had fucked up. You remember being awoken by your com that night ringing loudly. Once you groggily picked up, the call consisted of only a few sentences before you were on your feet and moving.

“Y/n, they’ve found you, you need to leave now! We have a ship ready for you at these coordinates!” The lady spoke on the other end. The coordinates were then listed on the screen.

You were grateful for the people at your job who were working to protect you from those who were out to hunt you, they believed in doing the right thing so when they discovered you floating through space, you told them your story and they took you in and offered you a job and their protection.

The truth is, you were the next Queen of your house, the standards for that queen were specific and high, one of the most important being you would need to be able to give birth to an heir. So from a young age you were tested for fertility so you could begin training, learning, and one day be married and give birth to an heir.

That was never fate.

A few weeks before you were to be married a freak accident occurred and it left you injured and to your houses dismay, infertile. Now, in most scenarios it wouldn’t have mattered if you were infertile but in your line of royalty there was information that could take down the entire nation of your planet that only a fit queen and king were supposed to know, and you were no longer of that standard of a fit queen due to your infertility.

You knew everything, and you were no longer going to be queen. This left them to having no choice. They were going to kill you and then begin training a different female relative of yours.

You were smart enough to realize their plans for you, so the night you found out of your infertility, you left. You knew they’d be after you the moment they realized you were gone.

Similar to when you ran away from your home planet you left most of your stuff on Giedi prime. Your heart ached a bit at the thought of leaving behind the good friend you had made here. You knew you couldn’t do anything about it so you at least gave him some attempt at closure when you scribbled down the note that he would later find. You’d miss him and he’d miss you ten times more. It’d drive him mad.

Along with the note that he found he also noticed his missing blade which brought you to the night prior. feyd had been showing you his collection of blades, you knew you shouldn’t have but you took one, you knew that someday your family would find you here and you wanted to be prepared. You hid the blade and as if you had foreseen the event, the very next night was when you would need to make your escape.

You dropped the note into one of your notebooks and slid the blade into your belt. You found the designated coordinates, and there your ship was. It hovered above the ground just enough for you to climb inside. You remeber looking back into the Giedi prime night, hoping that feyd-rautha would follow the one demand on that scribbled piece of paper.

Life after leaving wasn’t easy. You had plenty of battles and worked hard on combat training. The hardest part about leaving though was being away from feyd. You really did miss him. You cherished the moments you two had together and they often replayed in your sleep. With each day your desire to see him again grew.

Which led you to now, 6 months later, you are back, hovering just off of the atmosphere of the black and white planet. You know it’s a horrible idea to pay this visit but you need to see Feyd. The way you left him haunted you, you know you were his only form of support and you just up and left without any warning. You owe him the knowledge that you are sorry and willing to do whatever it takes to make it up to him.

You wonder what he is doing now, you wonder if he ever found that note, you wonder if he’d even cared that you’d left. You wonder if he’s missed you as much as you’ve missed him.

‘What ever he may think, I’ll find out myself’ you think, as your hand pushes the steering mechanism forwards. You ready yourself to enter Giedi prime once again. You flip the switches and type in your coordinates for landing. You push and your ship begins to fall into the planets gravity.

———————————————————————

Feyd-Rauthas arms are outstretched. His muscles exposed to the air within the threshold. Servants gather around him, painting the black shapes over his nearly white skin.

Ever since you left, this has been his only source of enjoyment. Killing those drugged slaves in the arena. His only way to cope with your disappearance.

Once his servants are done, he is handed his blade. The nervous harkonnen male avoiding heavy eye contact as he presents them. Feyds hands graze the tip of it and his reflection can be seen in its polished surface. Every time the blade is brought out he thinks of you and how somewhere in the galaxy you posses the missing one from his collection.

Feyd dismisses his servants, at this they all rush out, desperate to leave the presence of the na-baron. Unfortunately for the last servant to leave, the harkonnens blade penetrates her. The sharp object colliding with flesh sounds about 8 times before the sickening sound of a body against the ground follows.

Feyd-rautha walks out of his chamber Hungry for more meaningless gore. He scans the hallway, waiting for the next person to cross his path. Only about 10 seconds pass before a veiled being in all black turns the corner. Their back turned to him as they continue to walk.

The harkonnen smirks and follows quietly in pursuit. His presence going completely unnoticed by the target. Feyd-rautha readies his blade.

He grips onto the persons shoulder and pushes his blade straight to their jugular. Before he makes his next move, the person speaks.

“I thought you’d be here.” Your voice sounds through his ears.

Feyd-rauthas heart skips a beat, His knees almost go weak, and his hands begin to shake. Y/n? Is it really you? But It can’t be you, you left him without any indication of coming back, how could this be you? How could you have come back? The harkonnens mind races rapidly and his grip loosens.

With that, you slip out of it and turn to face him. You unveil yourself. Feyd-Rauthas heart races and his chest rises and falls unsteadily. His eyes stare down at you taking in the features he had missed so much. It really is you.

As Feyd stands awe struck You wonder what to do. It wasn’t like you could act casual ‘hey, I’m back after abandoning you for months and not telling you where I went!’ That would be arrogant and disrespectful. You know you owe him an explanation as to why you left but right now you are at a total loss for words.

His eyes hold hints of desperation and excitement yet his face displays utter disbelief. You wait to see if he’ll say anything but moments go by and he doesn’t. You take it upon yourself to speak first but regret it instantly when the sentences tumble out of your mouth and merge.

“Feyd-rautha-my lord, I’m terribly sorry that I left..-I I do have an explanation-“

You are cut off by his hands gripping you arms and pulling you into him. You look up at him before he connects your lips. His kiss is deep and full his hands are desperate as they go from your arms to your hair to push your face further in. You deepen the kiss too, making Feyds body warmer as you both stand.

After many seconds you both pull away for air. You’re shocked to say the least, as for the harkonnen he stares at you with desire, his eyes roaming you and his hands now feeling your waist, pulling you closer against his muscular torso.

“I’d like that explanation, we shall talk about it in my room. I will cancel my arena fight.” His voice is low and full of contained urgency. His heart hammers in his chest and it’s as if nothing else matters. You have finally come back to him.

He can’t take his eyes away from you as he leads you to his room. Once you two are there your lips meet once again and he’s ready to live out all the things he’s dreamed of knowing that you’re ready too. You love him and that’s all he’s wanted since the second he had met you.

Feyd-rautha is never going to let you leave him again, especially now. Your entire family and their army could come after you and he would be at the front line defending you with his life.

————————————————————————

Tag list: @freyagallileaevans

@saturnhas82moons

@flower-frog

@ruyaas-world

@aoi-targaryen

@gay-mashroom

@lechat-rouge

@alexa4040

#dune part two #dune x you #feyd x reader #x reader #feyd rautha #austin butler #dune #dune imagine #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd fanfiction #fanfic #yay #feyd x you

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izvmimi · 15 hours

Text

cw: fluff. isekai au. selfship-coded.

There should be far more trepidation, you think, as you approach the site on the mountain where it all began, but instead of being flanked by your two close friends looking as confused and terrified as you were that fateful day, Tanjiro is holding your hand in a loose but steadfast grip as you march your way up.

It isn’t the first time you’ve come back to visit the sham jizo statue since you made your way into this world - the first time trying to see if it would do the reverse of its curse and send you back home the way you came - but it’s the first time in a couple of years that you’ve made the trip and a lot of things have changed.

You’re older, stronger, wiser; you’ve fallen in love. In fact, you’re engaged now, and are no longer unwaveringly preoccupied with finding your way back to your world, but rather focused on making this, making him home for you. Perhaps it’s this very shift in perspective that makes the pilgrimage much more meaningful to you as you walk hand in hand.

If Tanjiro can sense your peace, he’s not saying anything about it, content instead to look around and admire the view.

“I can see why it was a popular touring spot,” he muses. Your search for the statue pauses for a moment and your eyes divert to him - he’s smiling as usual as he takes in the landscape with both eyes and all of his heart, and your own heart flutters a bit just looking at him. It hasn’t really ever been still since the first day you fell in love, truly, and it’s embarrassing sometimes to think about it too long - that even something as simple as watching him appreciate nature can move your heart to this extent.

No one else is out here now, despite the fact that more than a hundred years in the future, you’d have been flanked by dozens of chattering foreign guests, fighting against jet lag and wishing you’d spent more time in Japanese classes. Now instead it’s quiet and serene with nothing to distract you except Tanjiro’s quiet movements.

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” you muse. He nods a yes, and a hand cups your face carefully for just a moment, as though appraising your own beauty; you find yourself leaning into his hand, and just as quickly, his hold is gone and he laughs.

“You’re so precious,” he teases once he lets go. You pout, again flustered as his hand resumes holding yours and you keep moving. Soon approaching the clearing, you find that the fake statue again has not reappeared. Tanjiro pouts then points his nose to the sky.

“No trace of anything foul or cursed here. I guess it’s gone for good,” he adds.

You sigh. “That should be a good thing, shouldn’t it?”

“I’m guessing it’s not for you then,” he says. His eyes are on you, careful. You fall into a sitting position quickly, and he follows suit, watching you as you stare at the bare ground.

“It’s just a reminder that I really can never go back, even if I’m not sure I really want to,” you remind him. You’ve had this conversation before and he rubs your shoulder.

“Even if you wanted to, I’d support you,” he offers. You look at him for a moment, then press your head on his shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere without you so it’s moot point.”

Red string wraps around your ring finger in place of a ring, safely tucked in the corner of your top drawer in your bedroom back at the Mansion. He wears a similar symbolic string, soon to be replaced by matching rings forged with a tungsten, as a gift from Kotetsu that took you both by surprise. Durable, as will your bond be for as long as the two of you live.

#tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #daydreams: kny #mimi's notes #tanjimimi

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cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme · 1 day

Text

Shoot The Works-Tier Harribel x Reader

Apacci did not think that the first time she would be seeing your Resurrección would be in such a… dire situation.

Mila Rose was very much aware of why you were blasting the Quincy to bits and pieces, she just wished she was not caught in the crossfire.

Sung-Sun, was not at all wanting to deal with this right now.

However, they had to deal with it if they wanted to get Harribel back.

Though, that didn’t make hearing something as ominous as “Shoot The Work’s, Desperado” any better.

Especially when entire sections of the castle were being blown to shreds by bullets, Bala’s, and Cero’s.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

An hour and a half.

That is how long it took you to shoot through the skeleton crew left by the Quincy at Hueco Mundo.

This was, of course, concerning to the Tres Bestias.

Not because it had taken so long.

But because these were the foot soldiers.

Nonetheless, that didn’t make what was unfolding right infront of them right now any less nerve wracking.

Your Revolver was leveled at your opponent across the sands of Hueco Mundo.

The Quincy leveled his bow and arrow at you in turn.

Reishi was pulled from the air and into the vacuum the both of you made.

The moon hung high in the starless sky.

The wind blew the sands across the infinite plane.

Apacci watched with her breath held.

Mila Rose’s eye’s shot between you and the Quincy you were dueling.

Sung-Sun’s proverbial heart was beating out of her chest.

Then, it came down to two, simple things.

Who shot first, and who was still standing last.

The Quincy loosed his arrow.

The sound of gunfire rang across the plain.

Then, it was over.

The arrow found its mark, severing your right arm clean off.

However, your aim was truer, your bullet finding its target in the forehead of the Quincy, and exiting out the back of it.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

After all was said and done, it was only by the grace of the Soul King you had survived.

Not just getting your arm blown off, but the other wounds you took in getting the Queen Of Hueco Mundo back.

The same went for Harribel herself from her fight with the Quincy King and her imprisonment.

During the time the both of you were recovering, Appaci was a nervous wreck, Mila Rose was reading over anything she could find about medicine, and the usually stone faced Sung-Sun was visibly concerned, checking in to make sure that the nurses were taking good care of the both of you.

Eventually however, after things had cooled down considerably, both you and Harribel were back to… well, not working order, but not teetering on the razor's edge between life and death.

And so, as if she had not just been nearly killed, Tier Harribel threw herself back into her work of making a civilized world out of the wasteland of Hueco Mundo, much to the irritation of the Tres Bestias who, after many hours of arguing, managed to persuade her into doing paperwork first before going back into full force.

And they had the perfect idea on who should be her secretary.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Apacci felt like withering under the gaze of you and Harribel as she turned in the report.

Within a minute of looking at the paper, Harribel was massaging the sides of her head as she let out a long, suffering sigh.

“Is this why Barragan was such a cantankerous old bastard?” Harribel muttered to herself, irritation apparent in her voice.

In the five days since Harribel had been put on leave by her subordinates, all three of them had managed to cause some sort of chaos that ranged from minor criminal mischief, to crimes that would’ve made Szylarapero balk.

“Emilou Apacci, please tell Franceska Mila Rose, and Cyan Sung-Sun that all three of you will receiving a lecture on why you cannot summon Ayon to, and I quote “Play Whack-A-Mole with the Menos Grande as the Mole’s” some time after I have made a full recovery.” Harribel ordered Apacci with a glare that would’ve killed anything lesser than an Adjuchas.

Apacci muttered a quick “Sung-Sun, you snitch” under her breath before bowing and saying “Yes mamm.” and shooting out the door.

Near instantly after Apacci left, Harribel slumped in her chair.

“It is like herding cats…” the queen of Hueco Mundo muttered in frustration before turning to you.

“Please tell me you have some good news?”

“Of course milady.” you responded with a slight bow before handing her a small grocery bag labeled with the words “Kisuke Urahara’s Sweets Shop”.

Ever since being broken out from the imprisonment of the Quincy and taking that strange medicine Urahara gave to the both of you, a sweet tooth had developed in the Queen Of Hueco Mundo as well as in you.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Over time, Harribel grew to rely on you as her second in command.

As it turns out, Loyalty is hard to find in Hueco Mundo.

And that was a trait Harribel admired in others.

And then, Harribel realized something about you.

Whenever she was alone with you, she didn’t feel on edge.

This was odd, not only because of who Harribel was, but because of what she was.

An Arrancar, a species that was, at its core, evil.

Traitorous, always looking over their shoulders, and constantly hungry, constantly on edge, wondering where their next meal came from.

Despite that, in the moments she was able to spend alone with you, she felt like she could breathe.

She wondered what this was, at least until she saw the title of one of Sung-Sun’s books.

That’s when it clicked.

“Love”.

Harribel wasn’t sure what to think about that.

It was something she had only ever heard of from Tosen when he was speaking with Wonderweiss.

And yet… It fits.

The comfort she felt.

The fact she felt that you would always have her back.

All of it.

She… liked that feeling.

#bleach #bleach x reader #tier harribel #tier harribel x reader

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mytheoristavenue · 2 days

Text

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - IV

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: Long, multi-parted, slow burn, fem!reader, fluff, not proof read, angst

Stepping into the apartment made it instantly clear, that this wasn't a birthday dinner, it was a birthday party. Music played from the living room and you could hear laughter and conversation from every corner of the dwelling. In almost every crevice, there was at least a pair, usually more, cutting up and reminiscing on old times. There were cousins here you hadn't seen since early childhood. What was this all for?

Shortly after entering, your mother abandoned you to tend to whatever was in the kitchen, leaving you and the tallest person in the house to fend for yourselves. "Let's go in the dining room," you said, grabbing hold of Shoji's hand and pulling him along.

He silently nodded, feeling eyes on him from everywhere. He did truly stand out amongst your family, who mostly had emitter-type quirks if he had to guess. He could always count how many mutations he saw in any given space- something he'd learned from an early age. It was a tactic of knowing who to risk interacting with and who to avoid. He found that mutated people would find him...less unnerving.

Currently, he'd counted two people with mutations, but they looked nothing like you or your mother, so he had to guess that were were related by marriage. One was a young woman with a round head and abnormally large ears. The other was a small boy with a slender, rat-like vestigial tail- both cases of small, some might even say charming changes to a regular person's anatomy. This made Shoji feel even more freakish as he ducked into he dining room, seeing a large percentage of your family staring back at him.

The feeling, however, was lessened by the cheering that came with you entering with him; long-forgotten aunts, uncles, and cousins excited to see your face after such a long time of low contact.

"Well if it isn't our very own hero in training!" one man chirped, raising a glass. "Glad you were able to make it out to see us, don't go forgetting about us little folks when you hit the big leagues!"

"(Y/N)!" A little girl came running up to you, tugging on your pants. "Do you get to fight bad guys?!" You laughed sheepishly, explaining in the best way you could to fit a toddler's understanding what your training actually entailed.

Shoji couldn't help but feel warm watching you interact with your family. It was clear that they were all so proud of you and overjoyed to see you. To his dismay, however, the distraction of your presence from his didn't last long.

"So, kiddo, whose this uh..." the man spoke up again, raising his glass and tipping it towards your guest. "guy you brought with you?"

Your cheeks flushed as you quickly clung to Shoji's arm with a nervous smile. "Oh, how could I forget? Everyone, this is Shoji, my boyfriend!" It wasn't lost on said 'boyfriend' how your tone had changed this time around. It almost felt genuine. Almost.

"Boyfriend?" The man, one of your uncles sneered. "You're too little to be having a boyfriend, besides, you don't want anybody distracting you from going pro!"

You laughed in response, failing to sense Shoji's discomfort. "Uncle, it's not like that! Besides, Shoji's training to be a hero too! We want each other to succeed first and foremost."

"That's enough, son." An elderly voice called from the end of the table. Glancing over, your heart swelled with joy.

"Grandma!" you cheered, dashing over to sit beside her, engulfing her in a tight hug. "I miss you so much!"

"I missed you too, dear," she replied with a kind smile, patting your back. When you pulled away,. she reached forward, placing her hand on top of Shoji's.

"Now don't you pay my son any mind, young man." She reassured, eyes darting over to the said man. "He's had a few too many." It was at this point your 'beaux' realized the empty glass your uncle had been holding had tan foam collected at the bottom. It was beer. "You know, son, you outta be a lot nicer to this boy, he saved little (Y/N)'s life you know?"

Shoji wasn't sure what he'd expected your grandmother to say, but that sure wasn't it. He saved your life? When? "G-Grandma-!" you stammered, cheeks burning. "You don't have to bore them with the details!"

"Oh, no, dear, I do!" She insisted. "Don't you all remember when (Y/N) got her license to become a hero? That test she had to take?" There as collection of hums and variations of 'yes' from the crowd. "Well, that day, she called me up and she said 'Grandma! You'll never guess! During the exam, I was stuck in this trap and that handsome guy I told you about rescued me!'"

You definitely didn't tell the story like that, you cringed. She made it sound so mushy, it was like that at all!

"I don't remember that," Shoji, glanced down at you with a curious smile.

"I don't either," you grumbled. "I didn't say it like that."

"No need to be so grumpy, dear." your grandmother said, placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's alright, I think it's a romantic story."

You couldn't take this suffocation much more, feeling more humiliated by the second. Suddenly, you stood up, needing an out. "I-I think I hear Mom calling me from the kitchen, better go see what she needs!"

Before Shoji could stand to follow you, you'd disappeared. He blinked at your grandmother, confused, who beckoned him closer and he stole the seat you'd sat in and leaned closer to her. "That girl is just head over heels for you, know it?" She smiled kindly. Part of him wanted to ask if she was sure, not feeling like it was possible, but the other part of him knew that was the wrong choice. "I haven't told her yet, but my sickness has gotten worse," she confessed, looking past him, following the path you'd taken. "I won't have another birthday party, this is my last one. We wanted to make it special."

"W-With all due respect, ma'am," Shoji swallowed hard, shifting nervously in his seat. "Why are you telling me this instead of her?"

"I just wanted you to know you have my blessing." The old woman smiled, brighter than she had before, cradling one of his hands in her withered ones. "I'm content knowing my little girl is in good hands." She laughed. "And she can be a handful, but from the looks of it, I'd say youve got enough hands for the job."

Suddenly, this all felt heinous. How could he lie to this woman after she confessed to being on her last bit of time on Earth? He had to come clean. "M-Ma'am, there's something you don't know..."

"You aren't actually together, I know." she finished his thought for him.

"How did you...?"

"Some call it telepathy, I call it an old woman's intuition." She chuckled heartily. "But I'm not worried, I can see you care very deeply for my granddaughter, don't you, Mezo?"

He froze hearing his first name while knowing for a fact you hadn't introduced his full name when you came in. Obviously, the old woman had a mind-reading quirk. He chose to ignore it in favor of the bigger picture. "I-I..." he stammered, unsure of what the answer truly was.

"Only someone who cares would put themselves in the predicament you're in, am I right?" she rationed with a knowing smile as she sipped a cup of tea.

"I guess that makes sense..." Shoji finally admitted. "I guess I've always liked her a little bit, but I never really thought I had a shot."

"You've got more than a shot, son." She finally said. "You've got a guaranteed bullseye. Now just promise me one thing and I'll let you go."

"What's that?"

A tear slipped down the woman's wrinkled face. "Take care of my baby."

"I will," he lunged forward, enveloping her in a hug. "I promise."

Part I

Part II

Part III

#mha #mha x reader #mezo shoji x reader #shoji x reader #shiji x reader #mezo x reader #mezo shoji x y/n #shoji mezo x y/n #mezo x y/n #shoji x y/n #mha slow burns #mha fluff #mha angst #mha reader insters

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kinzis-writing · 2 days

Text

Better than Revenge | Mattheo Riddle [6]

The end of the school year is approaching, and Y/N is trying to make a plan to flee from her house. Where could she go that the death eaters wouldn’t find her? Better yet, how could she manage her relationship with Mattheo.

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Y/N Nettleby

Warning(s): a few cuss words, mentions of sexual material, out of character Mattheo, soft! Mattheo, ooc theo. mentions of smoking.

vi. “what if all i need is you?”

Chapter Six

Note: Long time no see! I went ahead and tagged everyone who I had for my list, if you wish for your tag to be removed just let me know! If I forgot someone, just let me know and I’ll fix it. ☺️ I’m finally done with school; I took my last final yesterday. This means that I know have time to update so it should be finished by July! 🫶🏼

Word Count: 4k

*Not proofread or edited* — *Gif Not mine*

It had been a month or two since students came back to Hogwarts from their holiday breaks. Since then, everyone at Hogwarts had noticed a difference between Y/N and Mattheo. Their relationship seemed to flow naturally, and they did not look to be on edge. Everyone knew that things had changed during winter break, even Hermione had figured it out and confronted the Gryffindor group about it in front of the Nettleby girl. Y/N obviously told them the truth about how they had connected over the course of the break and had admitted that everything from two years ago to now was just in their feelings. It was safe to say that Hermione, Ron, and Harry did not approve and had nothing nice to say.

Y/N had taken off and headed towards the library knowing that finals were coming up soon and she wanted to give her friends time to come to terms with her having feelings for the Riddle boy. They needed time to adjust to the information and she was more than happy to give it to them when needed. She truly understood both sides of the people in her life. She knew the golden trio only seen her boyfriend as Tom Riddle’s son, the same way that Mattheo only seen Harry and all his friends as an enemy because of his father. She could see and understand the conflict from both sides, but she hated that she was in the middle of the battlefield.

Y/N was knocked out of her thoughts as a tall figure fell into steps with her, “Been awhile. I almost did not recognize you without your boytoy on your hip.” The voice of Theodore Nott spoke up as he made sure to keep up with her. She was not in the mood to deal with the stuff from her ex-boyfriend, usually she avoided him or let Mattheo handle to conflict as he knew how to take care of his friends. The last time she had seen Theo was when they were at the family dinner months ago.

Y/N Nettleby rolled her eyes and came to a halt to keep him from following her any further, “What do you want Theodore?” she asked annoyed, crossing her arms over her chest as the boy stepped in front of her.

Theodore made sure he was facing her and leaving little room between the two, “a little birdie told me that your relationship with Riddle was a ploy. A way for you to make me jealous.” He spoke with amusement in his voice.

Y/N let out a laugh while looking over her ex, “and you believe that because?” she asked and trailed off for him to answer her question. When he did not say anything, but still held himself with a smirk and arrogance, she knew that he wouldn’t leave without a fight. “Listen, if you’re still pissed about us having sex, get over it. It is MY body Theo and I decide who I want in it.” She snapped her anger growing at the tall boy in front of her. “… and who I don’t.” she added hoping to strike a nerve.

“If you honestly think your relationship with Mattheo is real, you’re sadly mistaken.” Theo replied dangerously low. Y/N could tell that he was angry, but she wouldn’t fear him or back down. She knew how to take on Theodore whether she acted like she did or not. “He told me himself that he doesn’t believe in love, that he doesn’t believe in relationships.”

Y/N shook her head, “People change Theodore.” She stated, knowing that his only fight would be to try and ruin what the couple had built. “The sooner you realize that he’s using you, the easier the heartbreak will be.” The Nott boy muttered to the girl in front of him. “Did he tell you why he dated you so easily, and do not say it’s because he “cares” or “loves” you” Y/N glared at the boy in front of her. What did she ever see in him, she didn’t know. “He wanted to get close to Harry and your friends. He is doing his mother and father’s dirty work, and he knows if he gains all your trust that you’ll give him the information he needs to know.”

Y/N’s heart was thumping, because she knew that Mattheo had his own reason to start the plan and what if her ex was right? It didn’t change what had happened over the break, but to think that she would agree so easily without knowing what he fully wanted made her nervous.

“What the hell did I tell you about staying away from my girlfriend, Nott.” The voice of Mattheo Riddle spoke up from behind the Gryffindor girl. Theo’s smirk never wavered as he took in his ex’s appearance in front of him. He knew that she was considering what he had said. “What do you want with her?”

Theo wasn’t startled by the boy who was talking to him. If anything, he expected it. He knew that Mattheo had feelings for the girl. Mainly because Riddle had never shown any kind of emotion the way he had around Y/N. “Just shedding some light for your sweet little Y/N.” He replied.

Mattheo took Y/N’s appearance into account before stepping in the small space between the two. Her body language was obviously uncomfortable, and her eyes were still glaring into her ex. “Whatever you felt the need to tell her is irrelevant. Leave her alone if you know what is good for you.” Mattheo snarled before grabbing Y/N by the hand and leading her towards the library where he assumed she was going.

The couple didn’t say anything, but Mattheo did take a detour, leading them out towards the black lake. Knowing that they could have alone time there and he also wouldn’t get in trouble for smoking. The couple sat on the ground making sure to face the lake. Mattheo had an idea of what Theo wanted to talk about, mainly because Enzo had come to the boy this morning and told him that Theodore was telling everyone that his relationship was fake.

“It wasn’t your smartest idea to bring me with you when you’re smoking.” Y/N mumbled as she picked at the green grass beside her. Her gaze quickly turning to the calm water in front of her, yet she knew what lingered in there. “Besides I have studying that needs to be done.”

Mattheo blew out a puff of smoke while analyzing her demeanor, “What did he say to you?” he asked softly noticing the way you were acting. It made him anxious, knowing that Theo knew some information that could make you think differently of him. He held out hope that you wouldn’t judge him if you ever found out because for the longest time, he just wanted to make his father and mother proud. Now he could care less.

Y/N’s gaze remained on the black lake while her boyfriend was smoking, “you know how Theo is when he’s jealous.” She shrugged, bringing her knees up to her and tucking them into her chest.

“You don’t have to be hesitant to talk to me.” Mattheo muttered looking away from the girl that he was starting to fall for.

Y/N sighed, “he just said that you don’t believe in love or relationships and that you’re just using me to get to Harry and my friends. He also said that he “heard” that our relationship was fake.” She shrugged trying to make it seem like it was nothing. Most of it was nothing, she was starting to fall in love with the boy beside her and she didn’t really care how it went. Riddle took an inhale of his cigarette before slowly exhaling while he processed the information that he had just heard. “You were the reason I didn’t do relationships.” He spoke softly and quietly. He avoided her gaze as he crushed his cigarette to the ground to stop it from burning. “I have been drawn to you since I met you formally at the Malfoys Christmas party five years ago. It took me almost a year just to start talking to you and gaining you as a friend. Sean had talked about his sister but for the longest time, but I never looked at anyone that wasn’t in Slytherin.” He started explaining and moved his gaze from the ground to the black lake. He could feel y/n’s eyes burning into him. “I liked you before we even became friends, but I felt as if I didn’t know you enough to feel like that, so I pushed it down and then we got close. I convinced myself that I was wrong for you, and you fell into the arms of Nott.”

Y/N carefully scooted herself over, so her side was pressed up against his, “what about after that night?” She asked carefully, wanting to know what went through his mind three years ago. “You avoided me, acted like you hated me, and then I got with Theo.”

The riddle boy wasn’t sure what to say. He understood why he did what he did, but when he thought about it, it was dumb and selfish. “I was worried that you would regret it, and I knew the life you were trying to make for yourself. It didn’t involve my dad’s army and I knew I wouldn’t have a choice. You deserved better and you still do, but I want you to do whatever makes you happy and if that’s being with me then I’m not denying.”

Y/N wrapped her arms around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, “I didn’t regret it. I love you, Teo. I know that you may not want to say that yet and that’s fine. I just want you to know that I’m not going anywhere, I wanted you instead of Theodore this whole time.” She finally admitted. It felt good to get that secret off her chest, all those times that she had wished she were with Mattheo instead of Theodore.

Mattheo gently placed his head on top of hers, “I agreed to the plan for two reasons. I wanted to show you what being with me would be like and at first, I did think I could get close to Harry. But I wasn’t planning to use you or getting information out of you.” He told her honestly knowing that it was best to tell the truth instead of trying to dodge it.

Y/N gently pulled her head out from his and looked up at him, “thank you for being honest.” She whispered and gave him a small smile. Mattheo nodded knowing that as long as he’s honest with her that they could get through anything. Mattheo carefully leaned forward and captured her lips with his. Wanting nothing more than to be able to feel her next to him.

Off in the distance an angry Theodore watched the couple, knowing that the information about the said relationship being fake was untrue.

A few days later Y/N sat snuggled up on Mattheo’s lap in the Slytherin common room while the couple talked to Enzo, Draco, Pansy, and Sean. A couple of Slytherin’s had joined in on the conversation who everyone called Astoria and Daphne, Astoria was the youngest, and was only in her third or fourth year.

“Y/N, what’s your plans for the summer?” Pansy asked, everyone turning to the girl that hadn’t said much. Sean knew that she was trying to come up with a way to not return to their house. Knowing that the dark mark awaited her the second she stepped into the house.

Mattheo gave her a little squeeze from where his hand was sitting on her side, “I, I was thinking about looking for a place on my own.” She spoke after a few minutes of being silent. “I’m at the age of consent and we’ll be finishing up here soon.” She tried to make her plans sound casual and not like she was in a rush to leave her current living situation.

Just as she was hoping, no one thought much of what the girl had said and went into their own conversations. While everyone was arguing over their life and what they were going to do the next two months, Y/N and Mattheo had managed to sneak off and go towards the dorms.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, but is Daphne always like that?” Y/N asked as Mattheo shut the door behind them. It felt nice to get away from the Slytherin friend group, while it was nice to see what her boyfriend and brother are up too, she missed her friends and, in some ways, it reminded her of them.

“She’s probably a bit tipsy.” Mattheo replied while shaking his head at his friend’s downstairs. “She’s had a bit of a problem since her boyfriend dumped her.” He added joining Y/N to his bed.

“Understandable.” Y/N nodding knowing that she would probably be tipsy most of the time if Mattheo left her.

“So… about you looking for a place in a few weeks.”

Y/N nodded knowing that he knew the reason, but she had yet to talk to him about it. “Yeah. I know running from my parents isn’t going to work forever but maybe it will for a bit.” She explained. It was going to be hard looking for somewhere to stay, but she knew that it was possible “Have you heard from your family?” she asked carefully, knowing how the boy in front of her hated talking about his parents. He acted cold and distant around school but deep down she knew that he just wanted to keep the intimidating façade up.

“She’s probably with my father.” Mattheo muttered loosening his tie due to him feeling like he’s suffocating just thinking about the plan they’re creating. “Just waiting for me to get home.”

“You don’t have to let them control you- “She started only to be cut off by a scoff from him.

“They’ll kill me, Y/N.” He snapped. He didn’t mean to get hostile but knowing he’d be back to school with the dark mark worried him about her wellbeing.

“You’re their son.” Y/N argued.

“That doesn’t matter, if they don’t want to do it his minions will.” Mattheo argued back with her.

Y/N stayed quiet knowing that he understood his father’s army better than anyone. Since he had stayed with death eaters his whole life. No doubt they were always looking for a way to bring him back. “You’re just going to take the mark? No fights.” She asked knowing that he would obey his so-called parents. Sometimes Y/N wonders how Mattheo turned out the way he did because he did not let his family define who he was. Yes, he acted like a dick around school but how he acts around his friends and the people he cares about was another story. Had Harry not described to her what Tom Riddle looked like in his Hogwarts days, Y/N would guess that his father was someone completely different.

Mattheo didn’t want to answer the question that she had asked him. Did he want to be like his father? No. Would he follow him? Probably. Not because he wanted to but because deep down, he was scared but he would never admit that. “The only thing I am going to promise you is that I’ll try my best to protect you from my family.” He whispered, not even knowing if he could accomplish that but he knew that he would gladly take any blame, curse, or punishment for keeping Y/N safe.

Y/N’s gaze softened at his promise, all her questions about his family gone. Knowing that it didn’t matter what happened, because overall, she wasn’t turning her back on the boy in front of her. “I love you.” She assured him. Again, she knew how hard it was for him to say any words of that sort, so she didn’t expect to hear it back. She just knew that he would need those reminders for the days to come.

Without letting him even consider saying it back, she gently placed her lips on his. One of the first times that she had initiated the kiss first, but she knew that he didn’t mind. Her hand came up and landed gently on his jaw line while one of his moved to the back of her neck and the other one wrapped around her hand that laid on his face. Y/N gently pulled back; her eyes still closed as Mattheo started trailing kisses down her neck. The boy gently pushed her back so she would hit his soft mattress and give him better access to all of her.

Mattheo hovered over her as he connected their lips again. It was clear to Y/N that he needed her in a way that he hadn’t had her for two years. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want him like that as well. During their make out session, she helped him slide his blazer off and untie his tie. She had quickly gotten out of her clothes as well, making sure to be as problem free as possible.

“Good?” he asked carefully. Y/N knew what he was asking, because she knew that he sometimes didn’t get the right words out or he just wasn’t used to saying a couple words. No matter who he had been with, it had been consentful, but he always made sure before they removed the clothes. “Are you sure?” He corrected knowing that being with Y/N made him want to get over what he thought was weakness and showing emotion.

“Yes.” She nodded, being the green light for him to go further. Which was exactly what he was waiting for.

The aftercare had been just as great as the sex, at least to Y/N. She had fallen asleep laying on Mattheo’s bare chest, the sheet and blanket keeping them covered if anyone would dare to enter the boy’s dormitory. Mattheo was awake, smoking a cigarette because he didn’t want to wake her up from her slumber. He had kicked the habit of smoking in the dorm, but he was desperate, and he had waited until Y/N fell asleep because he didn’t want to leave right after.

Y/N had fallen asleep talking to the boy after that had done their activities and he was gently running his hand along her bare back. After taking his last puff of his cigarette, he used his old tray to squish it and quit the burning. He blew out the last of the smoke just as the dorm room door burst open. A Theodore that looked like a kicked puppy entered the room followed by Sean.

“You lose them how you gain them.” Sean told Theo not noticing the couple in bed yet. Theo went to reply to his friend but stopped when he noticed Mattheo’s bed was occupied. Sean followed his line of sight only to quickly cover his eyes even though nothing was exposed. “I’m out.” Sean muttered before turning and exiting the room. “Better not knock her up, riddle.” He joked on his way-out causing Mattheo to roll his eyes.

Theo avoided eye contact, but his eyes were raking over the parts of Y/N’s bare back that was exposed. The riddle boy was growing annoyed having his friends eye wonder over his girl’s body. He had finally gotten her after Theo screwed up and he wasn’t letting her go.

“Can I help you with something?” Mattheo asked in an annoyed tone. He tightened his arm around his girl that was laying on his chest. “I would appreciate it if you stopped loo- “

“Do you love her?” Theodore asked, moving his eyes to meet the one who used to be his best friend before he treated his ex-girlfriend like shit and pushed her into the arms of his best friend.

“That’s between us.” Mattheo stated his anger starting to show.

Theodore shook his head, “If you don’t love her, let her go.” He told the riddle boy knowing, well, thinking that he couldn’t love someone. “I know you like her, but if you can’t love her then she deserves someone who can.” The friend and ex knew that he was pushing boundaries, but he didn’t care.

Mattheo scoffed, “someone like you?” he grumbled.

Theodore shook his head, “No. I couldn’t love her the right way either.” He admitted watching the way Y/N’s breathing was smooth, showing sure signs that she was asleep. “We both know the life that’s coming for us in a few months and she’s the only one I know from a family like ours that has a heart like hers.”

Mattheo couldn’t argue with that, considering her family were purebloods, Slytherins, and death eaters, she had the heart of someone like the Weasleys. She wanted to see the good in many people, but she kept to herself. It was a no brainer as to why the sorting hat chose Gryffindor because she was the farthest thing from her family. She was what they would consider an outcast because she wasn’t like them and didn’t have the wants and desires of her family.

“I do.” Mattheo sighed looking at the boy who he had hated the past couple of months. “I do feel like that towards her, and I just can’t bring myself to say it.”

“It’s because we’ve never fully felt it that way before.”

Once Theodore had left, Mattheo had sat in his thoughts. He knew that his friend made a good point, but he could say that he did in fact love the girl who was stirring in his arms. He did, every time he went to say it nothing came out or it was like his mouth wouldn’t move. Maybe because he had been told growing up that love was a sign of weakness and that Slytherin’s, especially Tom Riddle’s son, does not show emotion.

Whatever the case may be, the boy was knocked out of his thoughts by a low groan, “Why did you let me sleep?” A groggy Y/N mumbled when she woke up. She let out a big yawn before moving her head up to look at Mattheo’s gaze, “I should have studied after.” She mumbled relaxing again at the action of Mattheo running his hand along her back.

“Don’t worry yourself studying so much.” He muttered gently making sure to keep her comfortable. “You’re the smartest girl I know.”

“That’s Hermione.” Y/N argued in a tired voice.

Mattheo didn’t say anything, but he disagreed with her. She was by far the smartest girl that he knew and had he not been who he was, they could have been prefects together with how they acted. The fact that she was in the situation that she was in broke his heart, because he knew that it was his father’s fault. “What was your life like… before you were sorted?” He wanted to know if her parents had always favored Sean or if it was just because their daughter was in Gryffindor.

She sighed, “Not as bad. My parents thought that their kids would be following in their footsteps and when word got around that I was in Gryffindor, they acted colder towards me. My mom told me that I should be glad they have a reason to keep me around because I was an embarrassment to the family name.” She mumbled, her fingers drawing shapes on her boyfriend’s chest to manage her anxiety.

“Hey,” He stopped her hand gently knowing it was an anxiety tick. “No matter what happens we’ll be the last ones standing, together.” He promised. He had no authority to promise that, but he would make it his mission to make sure they were okay no matter what his father’s army did. No matter what they go home too and must turn into.

“I hope you’re right.”

*Not edited!*

Taglist: @yoichiislovie @hedwigprewett12 @justhavingsomefun1 @lafrone @julesandro @prongsprincessworld @bruher @mattiesgirl @kiwi475 @frogtape @blueeweeb @wildlyobserving @harrysnovia @devotedlycrookeddonut @oi-itse @dear-fifi @grandtheoristpeach @dory-98 @jetblackpayne @b4b3tte @xmadigurlx @thecraziestcrayon @whoknowsbut @lovesanimals0000 @cmervns @urrsa @starkeylover @taylors--version @snowonthebeach-13 @supernatural-lover @ivy-34 @jasmine2105 @yazzy1004 @itsamusical4lifee @rainy-darling @hiireadstuff @primscat @marimarvelfan @eclipsedcherry @y0urm0m12 @doodlebug0105 @unicorns1993 @i-ll-die-for-anything-fictional

Again, if I missed anyone let me know! It has been a while and my old computer deleted the list I previously had written out. If you no longer wish to be tagged don't hesitate to let me know. 🫶😊

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that-was-anticlimactic · 2 years

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okay but what if. jjk au where it was geto who put gojo in the prison realm and not kenny...

#okay hear me out. this came to me while i was half asleep but #so i'm thinking that a part of it was that geto didn't want gojo to get caught up in the crossfire and didn't want him to get hurt so he was #like oh cool prison realm will keep him safe he'll just be a little guy in my pocket and it'll also be an advantage for us because #he's the strongest! like... the song 'open up your eyes' from the mlp movie came on this morning and i just. i was so overcome with emotions #because it is SUCH a satosugu song like geto singing to gojo i mean like 'open up your eyes / see the world from where i stand / me among #the mighty / you caged at my command / open up your eyes / give up your sweet fantasy land / it's time to grow up / and get wise / come now #little one / open up your eyes' jUST LIKE #AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #and maybe geto doesn't realize how horrible the prison realm actually is because it's been so long since he defected and just. he wants to #win but at what cost - is satoru worth sacrificing? and maybe the other members of his cult like convinced him it was a good idea and stuff #and just.#AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #i know this is prolly far fetched because geto Did fight against kenny but like. thinking thoughts...#jjk spoilers

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astrxealis · 2 years

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i know light rampant is like. really hard but tbh i have no idea how it's like outside of normal e8 and i really want to try doing e8s sometime

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚#it's been a long time since that fight came out now but i want to do it synced ngl JRGWJWVAJSBJD #i'm proud of how i've cleared e12s p4s and uwu especially with me being really young compared to other players #+ i cleared e12s as mch (or dnc can't rmbr) and holy shit i was on eu as someone in sea and my ping was so godawful #but yeah :O i rmbr old fc lead and static leader from back in eu hehe doing nier raids ... wah #i sometimes save videos of interactions in xiv and one of them i still rmbr. it was like early afternoon and lune was still sleeping #parents were out and i was playing xiv! just afk-ing by the house as that guy ^^ played music and we just chatted #i really love moments like that... >< really thankful to that guy bcs i wouldn't be where i am with my friends i met then #and i wouldn't have gotten into savage and look at me! now uwu cleared and i'm confident i can do the others too in time #but i have to definitely give myself credit bcs i was the one who accepted the fc inv :O but man. right time right place. it's amazing #and i still rmbr my first reaction seeing his character and it was me laughing at him oh my GOD #anyways i think it's funny how rdm are often either lgbtq. or genuinely FRENCH. there was a post on twt #that was like ooyeah rdm mains are not cishet and i was thinking hmm but the one i know is! but another category op put was french cishet #male and i wanted to cry that is so accurate. anyways i love red mage #ANYWAYS RIGHT i love hard mechs tbh #fave fights from each tier ive done! e12s and p3s <3 and p4s p2. and uwu from ults (it is the only one lol)#dun scaith was my babygirl as a sprout and i LOVE the ivalice raids. and optimization and all on nier raids #i like being good idk it just hits my braincells so right idk how to explain but <3 i love hard mechs #to this day i still memorize dun scaith and goddd i havent done that fight in so long but i love it sm #ever since back in free trial where i used the fight to get better at ast! and god. the wipes #takes me back as well to fanfest bcs man thatw as so fun. and the game being on sale made me sooo happy #bcs i cld finally get the full game! and then finished the whole of stb in a week. yeah. and shb too #all in summer mhm and then when school came around i vividly remember how i got into jjk... how amazing #humans are so fascinating and i find myself the most interesting. bcs it's Me!!#okay i've been thinking and talking for many minutes now and should do hw Sobs

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desertdragon · 2 years

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I hate raiders, mostly the hardcore's bc they're just cunts, but whenever they are in tune with looking at the game from a gameplay perspective (not just looking at logs), everything they have to report is shit I can feel even as a casual though I can't explain it as in depth as they can; and I have to agree it feels like the devs have forgotten how to make and balance a game in the last 3 years, as much as most players themselves suck at understanding and playing the fucking game (and how poor the game's learning tools and mentors are as well) since it's seen as a vehicle for story cutscenes or mashing buttons

If the gameplay keeps going dumber across the board that would take away the last legitimate reason I have to play it and surprisingly I don't like the thought of that conversation with myself

#my attitude is like half a toe in the raider mindset and half the toe in casual i can't commit to either bc i dont like either enough #but if you have a brain and have been playing as long as i have or longer its so obv we are downhill rn #Stormblood was the last time the entire game as a game felt engaging for a majority of time #ive been kinda lucky as a DRG main bc they haven't butchered it as much as others but idk how long that will last every patch #and the healing situation the last 3 years is fucking ground zero Chernobyl elephant's foot #anyone who had / has followed me long enough knew / knows i already feel this game sucks but if you make the Game part worse #then it'll Fucking Suck in a way where i don't think i could say I Hate It But I Like It anymore #it feels weird being someone who came in when Stormblood was Brand New bc i was there for all of it when the story sucked not the gameplay #then being here since is like watching the story have a seizure and the gameplay crashes into a fucking cliff outside of a few #DRGs are workhorses so if we go down too w these rework trends idk man... we're traditionally the burst #concerning to me that other classes are also revolving around bursts now plus shittier braindead buttons #homogenization sucks #i will say though im glad the frequency of LOLDRG jokes has gone down these few years bc it was never funny #its been used way too much to target and harass every DRG or if you made even one mistake- got called a lot of slurs & things bc of it #one last thing you may say There's More Than Fighting Here Wtf Are You Bitching About-#the main function of the game IS fighting it has ALWAYS been fighting its the main interface by which you play its why DF & MSQ are tied #combat is integrated into quests into dungeons into raiding into socializing into the MSQ etc whatever isn't fighting is subordinate #so yes if the combat system gets worse then that's a huge chunk of the game now shit- its not a visual novel go play a VN if you want that #now if you say the only reason i still play is bc i wanna eat Yugiri out then- *Squidward running meme*

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atlasllm · 1 month

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#i feel like jaden fighting yugi at the end of gx #i've had art block and art rejections for so long and i'm. finally technically free from the latter #it hurts. it'd be dumb to act like it doesn't #but i'm free. and i came out of it arguably stronger with better art i want to improve #i'm actually going to bed at night thinking about what i want to draw! that i want to spend the entire day drawing!#it's been a really REALLY long time since i've felt that way #like i've finally gotten my spark back. even just for a little bit #i'm excited about the things i create right now and i wish i could have more time to do so #but i haven't wished for that in a long long time #and i'm... actually excited for my art again #i missed this feeling so much. it feels like i've gotten an old friend back #atlas speaks;

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writingsbychlo · 5 months

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BUY ME PRESENTS | draco malfoy

summary; draco loves you, and you love him. he just needs a little push to make things official. OR, draco malfoy fighting for his life when he realises just how much everyone wants his girl.

word count; 8928

notes; this is based on christmas eve, but I'm posted a couple days later! this fic puts us half way through our slytherin boy holidays! I'm not sure how the one I expected to be the shortest became the longest one so far. like, seriously, I know I keep saying this but wtf? why can't I write a short fic?

Dinner had already been served by the time you made it to the Grand Hall, the smells of roasted meats and seasoned potatoes filling the air, your mouth watering as you navigated between the throngs of people. Your seat had been saved, of course. A spot on the bench between Draco and Daphne, and as you neared, your friends noticed, smiles rising and waves in your direction.

Sinking into your seat, you pressed a kiss to the cheek of the blond boy beside you, his face tipping up to receive it and lips twisting into a smile, attention moving to you as you sat.

“Good day?”

“Better now that it’s over.” You smiled, a chuckle falling from him, and his hand came to rest upon your thigh, squeezing comfortingly while you helped yourself to a plate of whatever food was left. “What are we talking about, what did I miss?”

“Not much. Just Theo telling us all about Christmas in Italy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, as though you all hadn't heard this exact same speech since that very first Christmas you’d become friends. Most of the group seemed to have simply tuned it out, laughing and nodding at the correct times as they whispered their own conversations.

A swipe of a thumb over your thigh as you finished filling your plate with food, and you shifted your attention to Draco. “So, what are your Christmas plans, Dray?”

Shuffling a little bit closer now that your plate was full, his arm moved to lay across your shoulders instead, letting you snuggle up into his side. “Oh, you know, the usual.”

He smiled, and your world seemed to get a little bit brighter, his lips brushing your hairline as he left a barely-present kiss there.

“Typical Malfoy-family Christmas. I get to do the tour with my parents, visiting every other rich-arsehole couple they know. Christmas Eve party. The pleasure of my father’s annual ‘you’re growing up now, son, it’s time to get serious about the world’ over the dinner table on Christmas Day. Open some presents I don’t want, on a schedule I don’t like.” He sighed, clearly used to it by now, but it didn’t make it sound any less awful.

“Well,” You smile, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Maybe we could write to one another, or even get a little visit in?”

The hope in your voice was evident, and Pansy gave you an encouraging smile across the table. You’d been meaning to ask Draco this question for weeks now, and your last chance had been fast approaching. Since the summer, you and Draco had been hooking up. It was no secret among your friends, or even the students; your affections for one another were hardly contained, but it wasn't official.

You wanted the labels, the security, and the safety of knowing that he was yours and you were his, and nobody else could come between you. You wanted to be introduced to his parents, be his date at events, to have him be proud to call you his girl. But Draco had been hesitant, avoiding every conversation that might inch into the ‘so, what are we?’ territory, keeping a safe distance from any kind of real commitment.

It wasn’t enough for you anymore, not by a long shot, but trying to talk to Draco about it only ended up with him shutting it down, or skilfully diverting the conversation and you were growing tired of his games.

Draco only made a vague noise, neither an agreement nor disagreement, and looked away from you as he picked up his drink to take a sip. “I don’t know… maybe. I can get pretty busy over the holidays, I’d hate to let you down.”

Another skill of his, making it seem like cancelling or delaying or not doing something at all was your idea. He was clearly hoping you’d brush it off, and tell him not to worry about it, but instead, you kept quiet. Not giving him the satisfaction of any easy win, this time.

Pansy caught your eye across the table, shaking her head disapprovingly, and shooting a glare at an oblivious Draco. She had been your confidant these last few months, every update and development in your situationship, she’d been informed of. Every decision, she’d been a part of. She was practically as invested as you were, at this point, and she certainly did not approve of his nonchalant behaviour either.

“Speaking of parties,” Mattheo cut Theo off, clearly having had enough of the annual rehashing of ‘that one Christmas when Theo was eight’ for today, and changing the subject, “Who’s got their dates sorted for the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball, and who’s daring to go solo and have Narcissa set them up like a matchmaker all night long?”

Chuckles rang out among the group, and Pansy smiled, leaning into Blaise’s side with a love-struck grin. “I think we’re safe this year.”

“I’m going solo, but, I did tell Aunty Cissa that I have my eye on a girl in one of my classes, and I’m seeing how it plays out. So, she’s not setting me up anytime soon, since she believes I’m already onto someone.” Enzo smirked, and Blaise congratulated him for his clever tactics.

You smirked through your mouthful of food, listening to Mattheo explain his complex excuse, to Reggie mournfully spill the story of how he’s already been set up by his parents witha ‘potential bride to meet’, and how he hopes she doesn’t show up. You laugh with the others as Tom simply raises an eyebrow, knowing that even Narcissa doesn’t attempt to set him up anymore, lest he scare away any more of her friends’ daughters. Theo, ever the player he is, is looking forward to dancing with every single lady he can find, and taking his pick at the end of the night.

“I suppose nobody needs to ask Draco who his date will be.” Mattheo grins, wiggling his brows at the pair of you as you smile, leaning a little further into the man at your side.

“Hey, who knows?” He chortles, and your eyes narrow a little, “I’ve had plenty of offers. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“Oooh.” Enzo’s eyes went wide, the other boys joining in, and Pansy fixed him with a glare. Daphne leaned around you with her jaw dropped at his statement, and you sat up from his embrace, lips pressed flat and a brow raised.

The boys snickered, ‘he’s in shit’ and ‘someone’s in the doghouse’, but he lived for the spotlight, a drama queen at heart, and he smirked down at you.

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that, babe.” The playful nickname was one he only ever used when joking around. When he was sincere, he was much more romantic; darling, sweetheart, beautiful. “What am I supposed to say? ‘Hi mum, hello father, meet the girl I’m skipping class to shag! Thanks for paying my tuition!’, I don’t think so.”

The boys all laughed, Daphne scoffed in sync with her sister behind you, and Pansy looked like she’d lunge across the table at any moment, if it wasn’t for her chastising Blaise for laughing, instead. ‘You and Draco can share that couch you’ll both be sleeping on tonight’, she’d said. ‘See how funny you think it is then’.

The words stung as he spoke them, dismantling your relationship down to the bare minimum; to sex and physical connection and nothing else. Like the nights spent talking until the sun came up were nothing, the times you’d held him while he cried, or washed him in the bath when he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. Like he didn’t rub your stomach for hours every month when you got cramps, or had a stash of your favourite snacks in his bedside table for whenever you came over.

You knew that Draco Malfoy lived you, just as much as you loved him. It was evident in everything he did, every kiss and every word. But, he needed a little push.

“I suppose you’re right,” You sigh lightly, giggling along with the laughing boys around the table. “I’m not so sure Lucius wouldn't burst a blood vessel then and there.”

“Exactly.” Draco hummed, and you glanced back to Pansy. She was shocked, only for a second, before taking in the subtle signs of mischief on your face. Her own smirk stretched out in return, and her gaze flickered once to Draco, before back to you.

A new game was afoot, and Draco wasn’t going to stand a chance.

Slipping your coat from your shoulders, the annual Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball was well underway. Your parents had disappeared into the crowds before you’d even stepped out of the carriage, uncaring of where you were as long as you weren’t causing trouble. They were here to mingle with the other importants, and you were just here to learn the ropes of proper socialising.

The garment was taken from you, your small bag clutched in hand as a ticket was given to you for it, and you brushed down the front of your dress delicately. Pearls moved under your touch, beading along the bodice flat and perfected, and you felt your confidence rise as you looked at yourself once more in the reflection of a dark window. Adjusting the small lace gloves on each hand, you took a step towards the dining room.

Elegant music was playing from a live band up on a stage, the room was decorated this year to look like a winter escape. Pale and frosty, like a palace of ice, twinkling lights and glittering decor, crisp white tablecloths and ice sculptures. A layer of goosebumps travelled along your skin at the sight of it all, despite the warming charms that took place for the guests.

Scanning the room, you quickly found your table. The designated kids table, despite you all being legal adults and far beyond such status. You’d all be the babies of the ball until the new generation emerged, no doubt. Moving through the bodies and crowds of people politely, Theo was the first to glance up and spot you, his mouth falling open, and a rush of confidence took over as he raised two fingers to his lips and whistled.

The sound caught the attention of the others’ chatter fading to quiet as they all turned to look for the object of his cat-calling, Enzo’s eyes widened, Pansy cheered loudly, and even Mattheo looked momentarily speechless. You’d had the same reaction when you’d seen yourself in the dress too, your stylist had truly outdone herself for this one.

You looked flawless, and you looked expensive, and utterly elegant. Doing a little spin as you approached, a smile broke free on your lips as you stopped before the chair with your name card before it.

“Merlin, babe,” Pansy started, drawing your attention straight her her, “You’ve got every eye on you tonight. If I was single, I’d be all over you.”

She winked when you laughed, and Blaise rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning in to kiss her cheek affectionately.

“Pretty necklace,” She commented, and your fingers rose to the pretty string of pearls and diamonds that you had.

“It was a gift,” You simply hummed, tugging at your gloves. Glancing at the others, you gave each a polite smile, eyes lingering on Draco as he stared. In any other style, this dress would be scandalous for an event like this. A low neckline, spaghetti straps, no sleeves. Tight and fitted to every curve of your body, and yet the classic designs and vintage nature elevated it to the kind of class Audrey Hepburn would be proud of.

He looked just as good, a dark suit, a fresh white shirt, a champagne-coloured tie that made the colour of his eyes and his hair stand out and your mouth dried out a little. Silver rings adorned his fingers, the Malfoy signet standing out, clenched so tightly around his whiskey glass that his knuckles were almost white.

You’d worn soft, golden makeup effects today, a dusting of glitter along your cheekbones and eyelids, a shade of pink on your cheeks and lips that you knew was his weakness.

“Someone really wanted your attention with that, huh?” Your best friend teased, and your eyes snapped away from Draco, back to her.

“I suppose so,” You muse, hand coming up to touch one of the beads on your ear, “Since they also got me this lovely pair of matching earrings.”

Pansy made a dramatic show of admiring them, and Blaise gave a funny look, glancing at the jewellery, and then back at Draco, who was frowning. Before you could reach for your chair after placing your clutch down, Enzo was shooting to his feet from beside you, tugging out the chair for you.

Draco scoffed as you gave him a thank you, settling into your seat, and he glared at the man beside you. Enzo didn’t flinch, however, smirking at Draco as he spoke;

“What? It’s called being a gentleman, cousin.”

Crossing your leg delicately, you’d hardly even removed your gloves, before a tray was coming down by your side, and a young waiter with a dazzling smile was looking right at you.

“Champagne, ma’am?” Not a planned pawn in your game, but a welcome addition, you smiled sweetly in return.

“Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.” Taking the single glass by the stem, you lifted it from the tray and the man’s smile stretched wider as you sipped the bubbly, holding his eye.

“Of course, miss. If you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be at the bar, happy to serve.” His flirting was heavy enough that normally you’d want to roll your eyes, but tonight, you suppressed that urge, playing into it as you bat your lashes.

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He took the dismissal, staring appreciatively as he walked away, another look over his shoulder to you as you watched him go.

“Stop eye-fucking the help.” Draco snapped, and your focus moved to him slowly, just to find his icy glare on you. He didn’t scare you, though, all that mean bravado, but you knew what was underneath.

“I was doing no such thing.” You tut, placing down your drink. “Don’t be jealous, Dray. You look even better in that suit. If you want compliments, just ask. No need to be mean.”

He seemed rather placated by this, his ego settling down, even if the others did laugh at him.

The conversation seemed to continue around you as you settled in, avoiding Draco’s heated stare and sipping at your champagne. The rush of warming alcohol through your veins settled every dancing nerve, and gave you the calm confidence to do what you had planned. Sitting forwards, just enough, you angled your body so that Draco might have the perfect view over your cleavage as you feigned interest in the chatter around you.

He took the bait, his gaze falling right where you wanted it, the gems of your necklace dangling just over the swell of your breasts, and he licked his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth.

Raising your hands and catching the swinging gem, you toyed with it carefully, letting it run over your fingers. Time melted away as Draco’s gaze flicked between your nimble touch, your lips, and your chest, shuffling in his seat every so often, and gulping at the bubbly in his glass.

He was on his third refill by the time food started to be taken around, and you took pity on him momentarily, sitting back in your chair and angling away from him, ready to receive your first course.

As the starters came around, you turned to thank your waiter, surprised to see it was the same man from the bar who had brought you your champagne. You’d given him little thought since he’d walked away, and you’d never spotted him again, but perhaps that was exactly why he was delivering your food now, as he beamed at you and set down the plate.

Men did love a little attention, after all.

Reaching for the bottle of champagne cooling in the centre of the table, the waiter never looked away from you as he refilled your glass without being asked. Draco finally seemed to notice as he finished adjusting his napkin, gaze narrowing on the man serving you. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered.

You pretended to take no notice, smiling at the man and waving your fingers flirtily as he walked away.

“I’m going to get another drink at the bar,” He announced, leaving without his glass and without asking if anyone else wanted one. You knew where he was truly going, if the lock of his jaw and the stamp in his step were any indication. You doubted you’d be seeing that waiter again.

As you poked at your food, Pansy excused herself too, only a few bites into her meal before she disappeared with a wicked grin and no explanation to anyone. Enzo just chuckled beside you, glancing around the room like he was watching all the cogs of a machine in motion, before turning his gaze on you. “You do look lovely tonight, do you know that?”

“Of course I do. I spent days on end trying on dress after dress to find this.” You sighed, admiring the gorgeous piece of art on your body as you set your cutlery down.

“And is it serving the purpose you need it to?” He teased, voice knowing, and you nodded. Flicking your gaze over the patrons and guests in the room, you searched for Draco, finding him talking politely to one of his mother’s friends at the bar.

“It is, I think.”

“Let’s hope it stays that way.” He whispered, your focus still on the man who truly held your heart, who was making his polite excuse and walking way, back towards you all. His gaze locked on yours, only for a second, before Pansy was calling your name and drawing your focus elsewhere.

When you looked up to her, she was grinning, a man by her side. “This is Elliot, he’s been wanting to meet you for some time. I promised him I’d introduce you both tonight.”

You offered the best smile you could as his cheeks reddened, and Pansy merely patted him on the shoulder, slinking away as you offered your hand to him. “Lovely to meet you, Elliot.”

“You too. As embarrassing as that introduction was, it’s true. I have wanted to meet you for some time.” He had a kind smile and pretty eyes, and he seemed far too nice to be dragged into your game tonight, but he seemed almost like a willing participant, and you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. As Draco took his seat, Elliot continued, “Pansy has told me so much about you. You know, if you’re free one day before you go back to that fancy boarding school of yours, I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah? What have you got in mind?” You smile, twisting a little more to face him, and your encouragement only brightens his expression as Draco’s darkens in your peripheral.

“A night in London, perhaps. We could get dinner, and see the opera?”

“She doesn’t like the opera.” Draco sneered, openly staring at Elliot with enough contempt to scare away lesser men. Elliot tugged at his collar, glancing at Draco, and then back to you as you tried to hide your shock at his behaviour.

“The theatre, then?”

Draco looked ready to snap again, and before he could, you nodded, sparing your unwilling partner. “That sounds wonderful, I’ll see what my schedule says. I’ll get in touch with you through Pansy if I can find the time, is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled, sneaking another wary glance at Draco who was not backing down from glaring at him unflinchingly, but Elliot shook it off, bravely. “It was a pleasure to meet you, truly.”

“And you, Elliot.”

Soon after he left, the plates were being cleared. You tried not to smirk as a different waiter, and one who very pointedly did not so much as even catch your gaze, cleared your dishes away at record speed.

You knew that Draco had something, everything, to do with that. He was jealous by nature, a spoilt single child who did not like to share his favourite toys, and that is exactly what you were betting on tonight.

You stood, taking a lap around the room with Pansy to settle your food before the next course, and to get another drink. She took the opportunity to fill you in on how her first Christmas event with Blaise’s family had gone, and when you returned, you made sure to surreptitiously place yourself behind Draco’s chair.

You placed a hand on his shoulder, a friendly gesture, squeezing and rubbing enough that your thumb swept over his collar and across his neck. His pulse jumped under your touch, and he tipped his head closer, into your touch.

As he did so, your heart leapt in your chest. To others, it might look like a friendly gesture but to you, it meant so much more. You were tempted to cave then and there, to live with this being enough, to settle, but you couldn't. You didn’t want this to be it, you wanted to follow this by leaning down to kiss him, to have him smile against your lips in public the way he did when you were alone.

To arrive at these events together, arms linked, and to stumble out tiredly together too. To sit by him, his hand on your thigh, to rest your head on his shoulder, to kiss him on the dance floor. The thought was enough to push you through.

He twisted his head, to kiss your hand like he often did when you did this. Carefully, you slipped your hand away just in time, knuckles brushing across the nape of his neck as you stepped away, and back to your seat.

His sights moved to you, but like a saving grace, the servers began to appear with more dishes, and dinner soon distracted you all. A delicious serving of salmon and potatoes, and the hall fell quiet enough for you to hear the beautiful music playing when chatter fell low.

Low conversation, drinks refilled, and that perfect mood set across the room, as people took to the tables and quieted down. Your favourite part of the night, usually. Good food, your friends, and a chance to catch up without the usual weight of it all sitting on you. Regulus was talking, telling the rare story that had him caught up in a long conversation where he usually just observed quietly, but your attention was fixed on your lover.

Until, Theo spoke up.

“Oh, merda,” He muttered across Reggie’s’ story, his gaze cutting to you alarmingly quickly. “I forgot to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Your heart skipped a beat, a flash of panic.

“My cousin flew in last minute for the party, and he wants to speak to you.” Theo’s words soothed your panic, and you offered him a flat look for the dramatic way he’d put it. Taking a sip from your glass, you raised a brow.

“When?”

“Now.” He confirmed, sights lifting to sit just behind you, and before you could even turn, a chair was being pulled up beside your own from another table. Turning your head to the owner, a smile burst across your face at the man sitting before you.

“Dario!” Your arms were around his neck before you could stop yourself, and he was chuckling as he bundled you into an equally enthusiastic hug. He chuckled lightly, pulling back only far enough to press a friendly kiss to your cheek, and you cupped his face as you parted from him. “You’re growing a beard!”

“My mother hates it.” He chuckled, rubbing a hand over it. As you twisted a little more towards him, he reached down, practically manhandling you as he reached for the edge of your seat by your legs, tugging it sideways to face him. You squealed as the chair jolted, screeching on the floor, tugging you closer as he leaned in. “Sei incantevole.”

“Are you charming me in Italian?” You smirk, a boyish smile on his face as he lounged back in his seat. “What are you doing here, anyway? Theo said none of you were flying in this year! I thought you couldn't make it.”

“I couldn't,” He sighed, shrugging, “But, then I heard that you would be here, without a date, and I knew I just had to make it. So, here I am, la mia bella donna. You think a short flight from Italy would stop me rushing over here to you?”

Your giggle was against your control. Even if he was more like family than a romantic interest, the way his accent twisted around coyly spoken words, was enough to bring a blush to even the most unreceptive woman’s face. “Cut it out, you flirt.”

“You’ll save me a dance later, right?”

“We’ll see.” He rose his brow, and you lifted your glass, taking a sip of bubbly to hide your smile, leaving him hanging. “Depends on how much more of your cheesy flirting I can endure.”

“You mean my wonderful Italian charm?” He teased, pinching one of your cheeks, and deepening the flush he had already created. “Don’t think I don’t see the way I make you blush.

You could only scoff, mouth dry as you tried to think of a retort, and you didn’t miss Theo muttering in Italian behind you, curse words you’d picked up on tumbling from his mouth.

“Perhaps this can convince you,” Dario reaches for his inner pocket, producing a small, slim box. An excited squeak breaks from you as he hands it over, your fingers brushing the elegant leather, an Italian name embossed across the front. “Open it later, alright?”

You could only nod, admiring it happily, before slipping the box safely inside of your clutch. He took your hand, kissing your knuckles as he stood. A final wink as he offered you hid charming goodbyes, and a farewell to the rest of the table, before returning his borrowed chair to where he had taken it from.

You watched as your friend left, disappearing into the crowd, no doubt to mingle and socialise as he had always been so good at, before you swung back around in your chair.

“He taught you everything you know, huh, Nott?”

Theo only shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “What can I say, tesoro? We Nott men just have charm. We’ll woo your panties right off.” He winked, the cockiness not lasting long as Draco swung at him, a fist landing roughly on his arm as the Malfoy heir scowled, glaring at his best friend.

“Cut it out.” He growled the words through gritted teeth, and your hand shot up, rubbing at your lip to hide your grin as Draco made no effort to hide his own emotions. Theo only laughed, rubbing at the patch on his arm he’d taken the hit.

Dessert was served, a beautiful display of ice cream and winter berries that almost looked too good to eat. The key word being almost. You hadn't been able to resist, however, and the first small groan you’d let out as the sugar hit your tongue had Draco’s gaze snapping straight to you. I did not leave, once, after.

Instead, he watched, through a dark gaze, every curl of your lips around the spoon, every swipe of your tongue to catch the juice of burst berries. If you’d put on a little extra show, just for him, nobody else had to know.

It was like he was staring right into your soul, so intense, even after the meal was long since finished. Finally, you indulged him once again, turning to look at him and raising a brow. “Yes, Draco?”

“You look beautiful tonight, I am simply admiring.” He let his gaze move across you slowly, making his admiration apparent, and his gaze lingered a fraction of a second longer on your neck. He stared at you with open adoration, the kind of look that told you exactly how he felt, even if he was fighting it, but he was close to breaking. He was close to losing this game he didn’t know he was playing. Then, his gaze flickered over your shoulder, sweet observation morphing. His brows drew together, his open hand slamming down on the table hard enough to make the glass rattle. “Oh, fucking hell…”

Mattheo erupted with sudden laughter, loud and brash, and there was a tap on your shoulder before you could even ask him what had him in such hysterics. A young man you did not know, perhaps a few years younger than you, and glanced around the table to see which of your friends had put this one together. Each seemed to have caught on in their own time, and had a hand in adding to the fun, to watch Draco suffer more, but none of them were laying any claim to this one.

“I’ve been watching you all evening, and you are beautiful.” He smiled, stuttering over his words slightly, and Draco made no shy show of his disdain, rolling his eyes and making a disapproving sound. “I was wondering if you might grant me the pleasure of a dance?”

“She would dance with you,” Enzo interrupted, before you could speak at all, leaning forward toward the edge of your chair from his own, and you could have kissed him in gratitude for saving you. “But, she promised me her first dance. Isn’t that right, love? And I think now is the perfect time. Let’s go.”

Offering you his hand, you took it, letting him sweep you away without a second’s delay, navigating you both to the dance floor and twirling you expertly into his arms. One hand clasped your own, the other sitting at a respectable place on your waist, your own on his shoulder, and he fell into the well-rehearsed steps of a classical ballroom dance he’d been doing since he could walk.

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding your veins as you looked back to your seat, noticing that the boy had taken Enzo’s rejection well and disappeared, not hanging around and waiting for your return.

“You’re killing him slowly, like a predator playing with its prey,” Enzo smirked, neither of you needing to clarify who you were talking about, as he brought up his cousin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” He chuckled, spinning you out before pulling you back in, sharp actions that made you dizzy with their accuracy, and you grinned as he brought you tumbling right back into his arms, perfectly. If he’d been trying to win you over, his dancing alone would’ve had you swooning. “You just show up to a fancy event like this, dripping in diamonds and pearls and looking like a million bucks, supposedly single. You mean to tell me you didn’t know that all these rich London boys wouldn't descend on you like vultures?”

“Not my fault I’m single and hot, Enz.”

He just laughed, dipping you a little. “We do struggle, don’t we.” You wove between people, a happy silence falling between you both once again as he guided you over the floor, back and forth, “Are you, though? Single, I mean.”

“That is up to your cousin.”

“Touché.”

You continued to move, until your feet were sore from all the twirling, clinging to Enzo in fits of giggles as he spun and twirled and dipped you more, hands on your waist as he lifted you through the air, making a show of his dancing.

He may have seemed altruistic in his gestures, sweeping in to save you and Draco from your dance with the boy, but he was using you too. Enzo was taking every opportunity to show off his moves to every lady around the room watching, a flirty smile on his face between conversations and he glanced around, and you wouldn't be surprised if he received more offers than Theo or Dario by the end of the night.

As the third song came to an end, and the music fell for just a second, you panted slightly, arm around his neck now, looking up at him with flushed cheeks and a bright smile. “Can we take a break?”

“Tired, already? You only gave me three so far.” He smirked at the way your jaw dropped, your face going hot and you knew your cheeks were red. You untangled yourself from his body, barely making it a step away from his laughter before he wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you into his side. “Oh, c’mon. I thought the aim was to flirt and make him mad?”

“He’s not even here to listen!”

“I’m practising,” Enzo murmured, steering you towards the bar, and leaning on the wood as he flagged down the bartender. You were quickly served, by a woman who fawned over Enzo as she passed by, and you had to snap your fingers in front of his face to snap his gaze away from her retreating form. “So, how long are you going to make him—”

A tap on Enzo’s shoulder cut him off, and he turned to look, straightening up instantly from his slumped position. As soon as he moved so you could see, your relaxation melted away too, as you found yourself face to face with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

“Lorenzo, I’ve hardly had a chance to talk to you all evening. I want to ask you about your schoolwork.” The impressively formal and deep voice of Lucius Malfoy settled over your skin like fresh snow, cold but smooth, and you shuddered.

Narcissa only chuckled lightly at her husband’s words, her eyes on you. “You’ve been busy, though. Who is your lovely lady?”

“Uncle Lucius, Aunt Cissa. This is my friend, (Y/n).”

It wasn’t exactly the circumstances you’d wanted to meet them under, but you smiled nonetheless, nerves running wild as you offered your hand to them both, shaking politely just as your parents had taught you.

“Ah, (Y/n). Yes. I make a point of knowing all of Draco’s school friends, but I’m in business with your father, aren’t I?” Something like a small kernel of sweetness was buried in that statement, his interest in his son’s life, even if he tried to hide it behind formalities, but it wasn’t your place to comment.

“Yes, sir. That is correct.”

“They’re very proud of your schoolwork. They were telling me about your latest project. You synthesised a new potion to grow murkweed faster, is that true?”

You were surprised he knew so much, your small project submitted for Herbology was the last thing you’d expected Lucius Malfoy to know of, or take an interest in, and your mouth felt like sandpaper as you tried to form words. “Yes. Yes, sir. That’s right.”

“Interesting.” That calculating gaze scanned over you, analysing you from head to toe, like he could see right through you with a single glance. “That is impressive, for someone of your age. I’d be open to learning more. Are you considering making a future out of your alchemy talents? I have connections that I could contact for you.”

You were speechless, your stomach going wild with butterflies born of both excitement and anxiety. He smirked, a look that would set you on edge if you weren’t sure deep down that this was in your interests, not against them.

“Perhaps we can discuss it more soon, when we next see you. With Enzo?”

Enzo’s arm around your waist shifted, a reassuring weight that you were sure had been your only grounding presence for this surreal conversation. He patted your hip encouragingly. “Oh, no, we aren’t…”

Motioning between you both, Lucius’ brows furrowed, and Narcissa tried to hide her sigh.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Aunt Cissa. (Y/n) isn’t mine, though it is wonderful that you approve.” Before either could question him, or expand on their confusion, Enzo gave your waist a final rub, before removing his touch from you entirely, and stepping towards his family. “Shall we go and discuss schoolwork then, Uncle? You have questions, and I have answers. I hope the ones you want.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss (Y/l/n).” Lucius politely offered you his hand again, shaking it firmly, and that was about as friendly a dismissal as you’d ever get from him, you’d heard. This was only supported by the surprised look on Narcissa’s face, and the beam Enz gave you as he guided his uncle away.

“I hope to see you again soon, (Y/n). You look wonderful this evening, thank you for coming.” Narcissa murmured, before following her husband and nephew, glancing back at you only once over her shoulder. She knew. The woman was far more cunning than she let on, the true embodiment of a sneaky Slytherin, observing quietly and taking everything in. Her eyes glinted. She knew you knew she knew, too.

Your heart was pounding, cheeks warm as you lifted your fingers to them cautiously. The disappointed waitress placed down two drinks before you, Enzo long gone without his, but you smiled at her with appreciation, fingers shaking a little as you lifted the glass to your lips to take a sip.

You’d spoken to Draco’s parents.

They’d liked you. Lucius had offered to put you onto the career path, and Narcissa had complimented your dress. A soft laugh of disbelief slipped free, your eyes sliding closed for just a second as you revelled in the moment.

It hasn’t been what you’d set out for tonight, but it was far more than what you’d hoped for. Opening your eyes again, to head back to the table and find Draco, you were met by the sight of a stranger leaning before you on the bar, grinning down at you in amusement. “Hello.”

“Hi.” You gave a terse smile, and a single nod. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I didn’t even get to ask you to dance yet. Saw you out on the floor with the Berkshire boy, earlier, and I thought—”

“I’m dancing with her next, mate. Piss off.”

Draco rarely sounded that mad, a chill went down your spine as you felt an arm slide around your waist, tugging you back into his chest. “Dray…”

The stranger only scoffed, glaring at Draco as he wandered away, and your hand reached for his forearm on your body. He snatched it away too soon, however, tugging on your hip to turn you around. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes more frozen than the coldest glacier. “Dance with me.”

Not a request, and he didn’t wait for an answer, before plucking your drink from your hand and slamming it down onto the bar, guiding you back to the swaying bodies. Standing before you, you offered him your hand, your hand sitting lightly on his shoulder. He didn’t take the respectable route, instead, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, sweeping you close to his body, and beginning to move you both in simple steps.

It was several minutes before he relaxed, your arm sliding further around his neck in a more intimate hold, bringing the two of you much closer, swaying slowly. The tension in his body gave way with every step, and with a resigned sigh, he finally spoke, “You met my parents.”

“I did. They were lovely. Very curious about Enzo and I’s relationship.”

His hand clenched on your waist, and you tipped your head at him as his piercing gaze drilled into you. One more move…

“Oh, don’t be so mad, Dray. We’re only shagging, after all. You’ll find a new girl if I get swept away by someone else.”

His eyes narrowed, jaw clenching, and a fire burned in those silver eyes now, melting the ice away with rage. Checkmate.

“You win, alright? I’m not playing this stupid game any longer.” He took a deep breath, and another, fingers twitching on your back as jealousy bubbled under the surface. “For fucks sake, how many pieces of jewellery from other guys are you wearing? Who bought you those earrings, that necklace? I should be the only one buying you gifts. I should be the one spoiling you. You want the Malfoy family ring? I’ll go yank it off my mother’s engagement ring from her finger right now, just take all this off.”

He studied you for a second, confusion growing at the smirk that grew on your lips. Victory was yours, and you leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to his cheek. Letting the hand from his neck smooth down his chest, his gaze stayed locked on the jewels around your neck, glaring angrily. “No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s pretty. I’m going to keep wearing it all, let it remind you what you have. Next time you piss me off, forget a date, or use the last of my shampoo, I’m going to put it all back on so you can remember how many guys would jump at the chance.” His nostrils flared, but he stayed silent, wisely knowing when to keep his mouth shut. “I don’t want your family ring, Malfoy. Not yet. I just want a proper title, and the respect that comes with it. I’m not your booty call, or your side piece. You don’t want to play games anymore? Then don’t.”

“You already won.” He whispers, his head dropping down to let his forehead rest on your own. “You know how much you mean to me.”

“Yes, I do. But I want the whole world to know it, too, Dray.”

He didn’t respond verbally. Instead, he twisted his head, enough to press his mouth to your own, silencing any more arguments between you both as he kissed you. His lips claimed yours, a tender and loving kiss, showing everyone just how much you meant to him. There was no mistaking the emotions within it, not as his arms wrapped around your body, holding you to him as the pretence of dancing was given up, your hand on the back of his head, fingers in his hair, meeting every push and pull.

When he pulled away, your smile took over, bashful now under his openly adoring gaze, and he stole several more pecks from your lips. A happy sound escaped you as he tugged you in, tucking his face into your neck, and swaying you both to the music.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

“You have, but I’d be open to hearing it again.” Your hand smoothed over his hair, and he chuckled against your skin, leaving a kiss on the crook of your neck before raising to meet your eye.

“You are breathtaking, darling. I’m in awe. This colour is my favourite, you know.”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

His fingers trailed down your spine, eyes sparkling even more at that revelation. “How about we get out of here? We’ll make our goodbyes to my parents, and head out.”

“Our goodbyes?” You repeated as he took your hand, lacing your fingers together.

“Yes. From their son and his girlfriend. I think you deserve a proper introduction, after all.”

Tugging you across the floor, he gave you no time to prepare, and certainly, none to disagree, as you smoothed your hair and attempted to control the blush he’d brought to your cheeks. Through the crowds he wove, until he was pulling to a stop just shy of his parents, and Enzo looked as though he could have cried with relief when Lucius’ intense focus was taken away from him. The boy quickly slipped away as both of Draco’s parents turned to face you.

“Miss (Y/l/n), when we said we hoped to see you again soon, I didn’t realise you’d take it quite this literally.” He murmured, voice as low and calm as always, and your lips parted, a different kind of heat flooding your features.

“Oh, behave now, Lucius,” Narcissa grinned, her gaze dropping to your clasped hands, before she reached up to her son’s face, pinching his cheek with a smile. “Draco, darling, I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you Mother, but we’ll be leaving early.” She only gave him a knowing look, ignoring Lucius’ displeased huff, as if she wasn’t surprised at all.

“‘We’?”

“My girlfriend and I.” He said, proud and strong, before tugging you forward a little more to stand in front of him. His hand left your own, circling your waist instead, and she offered him a smile at the news.

“I see.” She smiled, patting her son’s cheek affectionately, before turning that knowing gaze on you. “Now Lorenzo’s evasiveness whenever I asked him about you makes sense.”

“You asked about me?” Your words were a rushed squeak, which only seemed to amuse Narcissa more.

“Of course, dear. I wanted to know more about you. I’d ask you to sit and chat with me for a spell, but I believe my son might combust if I did.”

“Mother!” He gasped, and Lucius only tutted.

“Draco.” His father growled softly, shaking his head, and the red on his son’s cheeks only grew.

“You both may go, for now. But I hope you’ll visit me soon, and we might talk?”

“You mean… just us?” Your words tapered off to a near whisper, and Lucius smirked to himself as Draco rolled his eyes.

“Yes, dear. We’ll have tea.”

You could only nod, bidding your final farewells to them both in a state of awe, before Draco was hurrying you along. Tight hands gripping your waist, lips on your neck as he loved you through the crowds, swiping up your bag and giving you barely a moment to say goodbye to your friends before sweeping you away again. It was only due to the snow falling outside, you were sure, that he allowed you to stop long enough to get your coats.

Helping you, he lifted the garment onto you from behind, kissing your cheek as he reached around your body to fasten it. His elegant coat was already on, and leather gloves were on his hands as he offered you one. Lacing your fingers through his own, he smiled, tugging you out into the freezing night, and ushering you around the side of the Manor, away from the stream of cars lined up for guests as they left.

“Where are we going, Dray?”

“To one of the gardens near the path.” He never turned back, leading you carefully around patches of ice and slippery snow as you moved, the light from the house fading. It was almost pitch black, before he mumbled a small spell, and the garden lights glowed to light, glittering on the fresh blanket of ice.

Sitting on the grass was an old-fashioned sleigh, enchanted to keep dry, even in the snow, and two reindeer sat happily in the snow snuffling at the grass and scattered food.

The landscape stretched out far before you both, trees and grass and walls all covered in snow like something from a Christmas card, and the sigh that left your lips clouded in the air before your face.

“Oh, Draco…” Taking a few steps closer, snow-tipped over the tops of your heels as you stepped off the pathway onto the grass, chilling your feet for only a second, before Draco was following. Scooping you up into his arms, you kicked the ice from your feet with a giggle, your arms looping around his neck. “What’s all this?”

“This is your Christmas present. I didn’t realise that was the kind of ice you wanted instead.” He muttered, eyes flicking down to your neck, as he carried you carefully through the snow and towards the ornate sleigh. As you leaned in to kiss his cheek, he smiled shyly, avoiding your gaze as he became embarrassed, “I wanted to do something romantic for you. We can take the sleigh back to the town, get a cab, and take the jet anywhere you want to go. Pansy already packed a bag for you.”

He placed you down on the edge of the sleigh, letting you shuffle across onto the warmed leather. With another kiss to your lips, he scoffed at your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my wicked little girlfriend.”

“I can’t believe you arranged all this.” You were practically bouncing in your seat, watching as Draco nervously tugged on the reins, prompting the lazy animals to stand back up, before settling into the sleigh himself. Like they knew just what to do, they took off in a slow trot, tugging the pair of you along through the snow.

“Maybe if you’d have waited, instead of making me fight for my life tonight, you’d have been surprised.”

His arm was splayed along the back of the seat, and you snuggled in a little closer to him. Curling his arm around you, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, shaking his head and burying his nose in your hair. “If I didn’t make you fight for me, Dray, you’d probably have introduced me to your mother as your study partner. I gave you a little push, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He muttered, guiding your face up so he could peck your lips. “Who do you think helped me arrange all of this for my ‘lovely lady friend’, hm? I’ve been writing to my mother about having an interest in someone for months now. You underestimate me.”

“You never gave me any other indication!”

“Oh, please. You walk me like a damn dog, you knew how I felt.” His mouth closed over your own, stealing a kiss, and you couldn't help but smile into it. “I think tonight just proves it.”

The sleigh trotted on as Draco kissed you in the back, beyond thought and reason, your hands tucked into his coat for warmth as he kept you cuddled in close to his side.

Minutes melted away, the two of you lost in your own world as you jostled and trotted through the fields, back toward the town. Whatever he had planned, it had been in motion for days, and the thought only made you fall a little more in love with him. Perhaps you had underestimated him, but none of it mattered now, not when he was kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, and you had him in your arms, properly, at last.

“So, Pansy knew about your little plan?”

“Yes. I told her days ago.”

“Hm…” You loved her, and it was perhaps her knowledge of Draco’s actions that made this all the funnier. “So, she knew about your plan, and mine. And still, she made sure to introduce guys to me all night. She played us both just for her own amusement.”

As you thought of her, your fingers lifted to your neck, sitting on the delicate jewellery there, and Draco huffed. Looping his finger underneath it, he tugged lightly. “Can you take this off now, please?”

“Why would I do that?” His pout deepened, glaring at the offending item, and you gave in with an airy laugh. “Pansy, Daph and Tori picked it out personally.”

“What?” His head snapped up, pout gone as his jaw dropped, and he was not laughing like you were. “You let me believe another guy decked you out in diamonds all night! What about the matching earrings?”

“Blaise.”

“The bracelet?”

“Theo and the Notts.”

At that mention, his eyes narrowed again, searching for your clutch and finding it resting in your lap. “But Theo’s cousin Mario gave you a separate gift.”

“Dario.” You corrected, and he mimicked it childishly, scoffing afterwards. “Well, that part was real. He truly was flirting, and I have no idea what it is, I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Give it to me.” He reached for your bag, a second too slow as you swiped it away from him with a gasp. He didn’t give up, still trying to snatch it as he leaned over you, pressing you back into the seat through fits of laughter, the two of you fighting over the bag until it was pressed to your chest, your eyes wide as you stared up at him, shaking your head. “Give it to me! I’m chucking it, hand it over!”

“No, it’s mine!” He slumped back into his seat, panting for breath and smoothing his hair back down. He was pointedly staring away in the opposite direction, and when you leaned in closer with a chuckle, he leaned away. Grabbing his shoulder, you planted yourself firmly in his lap, kissing the underside of his jaw. “I’m keeping it, but your present is better, I just know it. Whatever it is, could never beat this.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dray.”

He gave in, wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you in closer to his body and pressing a happy kiss to your cheek. “Fine, but I’m buying you a new necklace when we get off the damn plane. I don’t care who bought that one.”

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