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not-wholly-unheroic · 1 year

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I hope to write a full review of Peter Pan and Wendy at some point in the near future once I’ve had the chance to rewatch it a few times, but in the meantime, it makes me sad that so many people seem to have hated it, and I need to just gush about a few of my favorite parts.

(Warning: This list will contain SPOILERS for the film.)

Wendy’s very realistic reaction to having her favorite bedtime story character show up in her bedroom in the middle of the night (“How are you real?!).

The reworking of the “kiss” scene. Although the childhood romance/first love thing between the two of them in most versions is adorable, seeing Wendy sort of mentally panic and scramble to find SOMETHING to give Peter when, after getting hurt, Michael suggests someone give him a kiss to make it better and Peter says he doesn’t know what that is but he thinks he needs one is hilarious and totally something an awkward teen girl would do when confronted with kissing a boy in front of her brothers.

Mr. Smee’s good heart and kindness. Gaffigan’s Smee tries on more than one occasion to shield the kids from the worst of Hook’s wrath and/or scary situations as best he can while still being loyal to Hook. And it is openly acknowledged that there is a sort of father/son relationship between Hook and Smee due to Smee having pulled him from the sea when he was just a boy. Law’s Hook isn’t always good to Smee, but he very much recognizes he wouldn’t be alive without him. It’s also nice to see that although a bit of a dork sometimes, this Smee isn’t stupid, and actually seems pretty perceptive at times.

The sea shanties!!! I love that they found a way to work a few songs into the film without it feeling too out of place in a live-action movie that isn’t a full-on musical. The songs themselves are catchy and the lyrics (which are mostly about things in the deep that will eat you…) serve to remind us of the hellish nightmare Hook lives every day in fear of the crocodile. We also get a nod to the Disney sequel. (Props to the songwriter for managing to work the word “cephalopod” into a song and actually having it fit the rhyme.) Also, the second song arguably has a ticking motif in the slow drum beat.

The crocodile’s appearance and attitude. This thing is terrifying. It’s HUGE. There is absolutely no one in their right mind who wouldn’t run from this creature. While it wants Hook most of all, it isn’t opposed to eating others either (and does apparently nab a few men who get shoved out of the way by Hook or who aren’t fast enough). Also, all the spears sticking out of its hide. Makes me think of Moby Dick. The crew has apparently tried on many occasions to get rid of this crocodile but it refuses to die.

The similarities and differences in Peter’s fight with Hook at Skull Rock as opposed to the animated film. Hook ALMOST steps off a ledge at one point like in the animated version, but Smee is there to grab us coat and pull him back before he can fall. We also get some good shadow sequences like in the animated film…but apparently, Hook’s shadow can harm Peter’s with the effect that Peter himself actually feels it.

Hook’s reaction to the crocodile. His first words on seeing the creature are just a very quiet sort of shaky, “Oh, God….” When it lunges for him at one point, he freezes in terror for a second before his instinct to run kicks back in. This man is traumatized.

Hook and Peter’s relationship. Okay, yeah, I’m upset they went with the very cliche “Hook was a Lost Boy” deal which has been done so many times now in book retellings that it’s not even new or interesting anymore (not to mention Hook really needs to be an Etonian to make him who he is…) BUT I am very pleased at the emotional depth the actors and writers went to here for BOTH of the characters. Hook is still clearly capable of brutality but he’s also deeply wounded. Peter is selfish and cocky like any little boy might be, but he’s not evil and genuinely misses the friend he used to have in James. They weren’t black and white hero/villain tropes. They were complex characters who both dealt with things poorly, and it takes Wendy pushing on their emotional walls and asking hard questions to finally make them see they can stop hurting each other and maybe repair what has been broken.

The quotes they gave Law as Hook. So many good ones that I may make an entirely separate post about it but the entire brig scene with Wendy is gut-wrenching. At first, my reaction was, “Why is he telling her all of this?” But then, I remembered that even Barrie’s Hook has a tendency to monologue and I think part of the reason he tells her so much is simply because she might be the first person other than Smee to actually want to LISTEN to his side of things. (Much as how Tink points out later in the film that Wendy is one of the first people to really hear her.)

Peter actually needing and accepting help. While admittedly, I think they may have leaned into the “girl power” thing a little too heavily in this version, it was nice to see Peter actually realize that he DOES need people in his life and that it’s OKAY to ask for help sometimes.

Everything about the ending. Peter apologizing to Hook and flat-out refusing to fight him. Hook’s initial anger and disbelief. Peter reaching out and grabbing him by the claw to keep him from falling. The pained and terrified look on Hook’s face as he scrambles to come up with just one happy thought and can’t find any. The look of horror from Peter as he watches his former best friend fall to what he assumes will be his death. The fact that Peter MOURNS for him. The symbolism of “Hook” falling away and dying while “James” survives. The little hopeful smile he gives when he sees Peter coming back. UGH! It was SO GOOD!!! 😭 And that’s not even including the emotional scene with Peter and Wendy saying their goodbyes on the rooftop in London.

This film wasn’t without it’s flaws. The pacing was a little off in places, and it doesn’t feel quite like an epic adventure…but BOY, does it have some heart to it.

#peter pan and wendy #disney peter pan and wendy #disney live action peter pan #disney live action remakes #Captain Hook #jude law #Peter pan #alexander molony

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keanureevesisbae · 1 year

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Captain Syverson x fem!reader

Summary: You never had a dad figure in your life, but when you meet Sy, all of the sudden you had a man who was willing to be that role model for you. But all you have to do is let him.

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: so, in case anyone remembers a sad little sob story I posted about how i was jealous because i didn't have a dad figure in my life, i turned it into an entire oneshot. Hopefully you like it. (also, I totally intended on not posting this until this weekend, but I suppose I am feeling generous today 😘 )

masterlist // henry cavill masterlist

You grew up in a female household. Your mother, your maternal grandmother and two of your aunts. No siblings. Just you and your favorite women in one house.

While it was amazing, there was one downside to it and you felt it deep in your heart: you always had this feeling you missed out on that fatherly type in your life. A role model, one your friends got for free and loved dearly.

You always wondered why your dad abandoned you to start another family elsewhere. Weren’t you fun enough? Weren’t you pretty enough?

Weren’t you enough?

Being dropped like that, you always felt more at ease with women. You weren’t necessarily afraid of men, but minding your own business and leave men be, was the easiest way for you to go.

However, you met Sy: the most amazing and wonderful man alive. Looking gruff and slightly terrifying at first, but once you peeled off that first layer, you were met with the most amazing and sweetest man you’ve ever encountered in your entire life.

He was a friend of your friend’s boyfriend and while you two instantly clicked, there was a certain hesitation. But Sy was patient and that patience showed you his character, because it took you months before you felt secure enough to let Sy in your life. You often joked that his parents did a splendid job with him.

But then you met said family. It was the first time you saw such a close family. Three older brothers who were all married with a few little ones, a loving mother and a father.

The type of dad you never had.

Falling into an old and safe habit, you found yourself gravitating towards his mother on family gatherings and sometimes a sister-in-law. You were civil with the brothers, however you always stayed clear from the dad, afraid that he’ll intentionally or unintentionally would hurt you the most.

‘You know,’ Sy offered through the phone, ‘you could call my dad.’

You were now staring at a flat tire and you knew that if you called a tow truck, you probably were gonna get ripped off anyway and you would sell a kidney to afford the change of tire. Naturally, you called your boyfriend, who could fix everything, but he was currently stuck at work and threw that one offer in the air that you really didn’t want.

‘No,’ you said, ‘I can handle this.’

So, after you hung up, you got to work. In theory, you could do it. You watched a YouTube video and you tried to fix the tire, but you lacked the strength and nearly found yourself sniffling on your driveway after many failed attempts.

Time went by and a car stopped in front of your driveway. You looked up, to see the infamous dad Syverson get out of his truck. ‘Hi kid,’ he said. He always called you kid when you arrived there.

‘Hi,’ you said, discreetly wiping away your tears. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Sy called me,’ he answered, ‘telling me you had a flat tire. I thought I’d drop by to ask if you need help.’

You sighed. ‘Of course he did,’ you muttered.

‘You mind?’

‘No,’ you said, ‘go knock yourself out.’

You found yourself watching him from a distance, while he changed your tire. He did every step in the tutorial you watched, but the thing was: he had strength, you didn’t.

‘You got something against me, kid?’ he finally asked.

You shook your head. ‘No.’

‘You barely acknowledge me when you’re over,’ he said. ‘Is it something I did?’

Yes. That’s the worst part of it all. It is something he did. It’s the way he loves his sons, their wives and the grandkids. It’s how he loves his own wife. It’s how he always greeted you with a wide smile. How he even got you a little nickname he hadn’t given to anyone else. It was you who was on the receiving end of the nickname ‘kid’, not the others.

‘No.’

He looked up and halted his work. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘Sy told me about your own dad.’

Of course Sy would share that sob story with his parents. ‘Right.’

‘Your dad is an idiot,’ he said.

‘True.’ You took in a breath and said: ‘I grew up around women. All I’ve known is female role models. Never had a dad-figure in my life. Guess I am just a horrible human being and incredibly jealous for seeing how others have a great dad and I don’t.’

‘That doesn’t make you a horrible person,’ he told you. ‘It makes you a normal human being. You know, I had a deadbeat dad. He barely was around and when he was, he ruined everything. I always promised myself that once I am a dad, I wouldn’t be like that.’

‘Mhm.’

‘Dads fix tires,’ he continued, ‘dads cook dinner. Dads pick you up from a night out. Dads teach you about life. Dads are there for you, whether you need them or not.’

‘Not mine,’ you whispered. ‘My mom always told me to do it myself.’

‘I get that.’

‘I was already doing an okay job with the tire,’ you mumbled.

‘True,’ he chuckled. Then he turned around so he was actually facing you. ‘You know, you’re dating my son, which makes you part of the family. You got a flat tire, call me. Your family needs some help fixing something? Call me. You’re family, kid.’

And you realized you hadn’t been acting like family. Instead, you always kept him at arms length, even when he tried to be family.

Tears burned in your eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ he said. ‘I just want to be that dad-figure for you. All you’ve gotta do is let me.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘And when you are ready for that, let me know. I’ll be right here for you, kid.’

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It had been three months since that conversation and a lot had happened. You were still dating Sy and ever since your little talk with his dad, it truly felt like you were part of the family now. Sy and you were closer than ever before, his dad and you were two peas in a pod. Turned out, you shared many similarities and he felt like that father figure you always wished you had. He came over to your family’s house and fixed a few things that needed fixing for a while now.

But dad Syverson still understood your wish of being independent and whenever he helped you out, he told you to watch and learn and sometimes wrote down a few tips too.

Today, you and Sy were going to a family gathering again and you could say that you were buzzing with excitement.

‘Sy, hurry up,’ you pleaded. ‘Your dad is gonna show me how to turn on the bbq, without losing your eyebrows.’

He chuckled. ‘I swear you’re always happier to see him than me,’ he joked. You leaned against his shoulder, before he said: ‘You know, honey, I love you very much.’

‘I love you too,’ you whispered. ‘And thank you, for ignoring my stubborn ass and called your dad that faithful flat tire day.’

Sy smirked. ‘Come on, you honestly think I would let you hurt yourself, because you’re my strong-willed sweetheart and doesn’t want to ask my dad for help?’ He pressed a kiss on top of your head. ‘I… I am glad you accepted the help. It made you happier in the end.’

Dating Sy meant gaining an entire family and to say it was amazing was a gross understatement. You said your quick hi’s to his brothers, the sister-in-laws and the kids, kissing Sy’s mom, before rushing over to the backyard, where you saw Sy’s dad.

‘There she is,’ he said with a wide grin and you launched yourself in his arms. ‘Finally some common sense in the building,’ he joked.

Sy joined you not too long after, hugging his dad and he said: ‘I’ll be the first Syverson to sit through a bbq lesson from my dad.’

‘You guys never listened?’

Dad shook his head. ‘Kid, you’re the first one who voluntarily has signed up for the bbq lessons from dad Syverson,’ he told you. ‘Are you ready?’

You smiled and nodded. ‘I was born ready, dad.’

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

henry cavill taglist: @diegos-butt // @thelastsock // @liecastillo // @mis-lil-red // @sofiebstar // @abschaffer2 // @crazybutconfidentaf // @summersong69 // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @bourbonrice // @kebabgirl67 // @eldarwen333 // @kingliam2019 // @cherry-gemz // @sillyrabbit81 // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @xuxszx // @omgkatinka // @pterodactylterrace / @peaches1958 // @pandaxnienke // @raccoon-eyed-rebel

#henry cavill #henry cavill one shot #captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson oneshot #enough

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queen-of-wisdom · 4 months

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The Antichrist, Son of Satan, Destroye- Adam Young

Okay guys, I know we all love Crowley or adore Aziraphale or wish to be Anathema but we need to talk about Adam (as in the Antichrist not the Adam in the beginning but we get to that later).

Although Adam Young has (at best) 30 minutes worth of screen time he is The Main Character. He is the reason the plot starts, the spirit of the story.

But he barely gets mentioned in Fandom. At all.

So here are my Adam Young Analysises and Headcanons, that I always wanted to share and discuss.

Adam Young and Adam (as in the Beginning) are a direct parallel to each other (and I think Neil and Terry intended it that way ( I know it's bold to use first name, assumption of thought etc. on literally the only celebrity I know of who is on Tumblr but I'll do it anyway. You can't stop me))

Adam Young (who I will call Antichrist in this section) and Adam are given the exact same choice: do something that will anger their creator or live their life in their own image.

Adam ate the fruit of wisdom, was banished by God, but now he was free. He lived on earth (not in Eden) and wasn't tied to any occult or eteral powers.

The Antichrist didn't start Armageddon, was banished by Satan, but now he was free. He lived on earth (that he didn't destroy) and wasn't tied to any occult or eteral powers.

In conclusion, the parallel of these two and I may add something later to it.

2. Adam definitely turned into a punk later in life.

Think about it: he rebelled against the establishment, is frustrated with the state of the world and has a fellow alternative (eg. a witch) as neighbor. Definitely a punk.

3. He will become a Percy Jackson, Danny Fenton, Hazel Levesque, Sadie Kane and Adora (She-Ra) kinnie

No, I won't eleborate.

4. I would like to explore the angst that comes from being the literal son of the devil.

As in like "My father is the worst man alive but I am his favorite daughter" (- Clarisse La Rue, The demigod diaries (ig))

I mean c'mon, for a fandom that is so obsessed with angst this topic is so untouched and I've seen like two fanfic's with that theme.

5. When Adam and Jesus are ever going to meet, they would be definitely friends from the shared experiences but Adam would never really understand him.

Okay, I think I have to explain that one.

First of, I'm going to assume they're a similar age (Jesus when he was younger, Adam when he is older - so.much.to.explore).

They are both the sons of the bosses of supernatural beings.

They have both human friends that can't really get them.

They both trust humanity to change.

But I don't think that Adam could understand why Jesus sacrificed himself and didn't just told everyone to fuck off (like he did).

WHERE ARE MY ANGSTY FANFUCS GUYS

#good omens #Adam #adam young #the antichrist #so much unexplored potential guys #I need my fanfics #otherwise i'll scream #english isn't my first language #please have mercy

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insertlovelyperson · 4 months

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I recently read your hunter dylan fic, which hasn’t left my mind for a second this past week, and tonight my tiktok keeps showing me quotes slides that just scream dylan and now i can’t stop crying

thats so sweet of you to say <3 I get my best inspiration from sad tiktok quotes every once in awhile lol

"my father is the worst man alive and I am his favorite son"

ooooof (so happy to hear you've been enjoying the fic!! sorry for all the tears tho)

#hunter!dylan au #aidwtwtsm

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aprillynskuhrovec · 1 year

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Hell of a View||Prologue

Pairing: Jax Teller x Original Female Character

Synopsis: Jax Teller, former prince of Charming, left the only life he's ever known at 18 years old, determined to honor his father's wishes and make a life for himself outside of SAMCRO. 10 years later, he is involved in a near-fatal motorcycle accident that places him in a coma. When he wakes up with severe memory loss and no recollection of the life he currently lives, his wife is left to pick up the pieces and win his heart back, and help him remember why he left the MC in the first place, despite his mind telling him to head back to Charming and to the only life he truly knows.

Loosely based on the movie The Vow.

Rating: M. Minors, don’t even think about it.

Warnings for chapter: cursing, questioning of faith and religion, mentions of a motorcycle accident, mentions of a loved one being in the hospital.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys for all of the love that you’ve shown on my little sneak peek! I’m super excited to finally be writing this - it’s several years in the making! Please note, that while I am a MAJOR Sons fan (I’ve seen it seven times all of the way through, it’s a masterpiece) this story is heavy alternate universe and out of character for some of our boys (more-so Jax than anyone else). If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please message me and I’d be happy to add you!

Song suggestion for this chapter: If Tomorrow Never Comes by Garth Brooks

••

HOSPITALS HAVE always felt similar to a place of worship for me. In my lifetime, which, albeit has not been very long, I have always seemed to do the most praying within the confines of these four walls. The invocation that I was doing at Anna Maria Memorial Hospital extended far beyond that of customary bedtime prayers to the Man upstairs.

The praying that I was doing - that I have continued to do, despite my doubts, ever since I got the call - was that of a matter of life and death.

At this point in what has been the longest day of my life thus far, I don't know if I still believe in Him - in God - enough to keep praying.

I do, however, believe in my husband. I know that he is the strongest man on the face of this Earth, despite the amount of machines that are working overtime to keep him alive.

I also believe in love.

To some, love is just a four-letter word, but to me, love means so much more. Corinthians chapter 13, verses 4 through 8 tells us that love is patient and kind. It does not envy, it does not boast; it is not proud. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things. Love never fails.

That though.... that's the watered-down version of what love is supposed to be. Those words are nothing but a load of fucking bullshit.

Love is complicated. It's messy, and at times, turbulent. Sometimes, love can be calm and quiet, like the stillness of morning as the world awakens for the day. Love is vulnerable, and it is showing the worst parts of yourself to someone, and having them still accept you. Love is your partner making the parts of you that you think are the most ugly, those riddled with scars, and pain, and hurt, feel beautiful. Love is the comforting, warm sensation that you get from a good glass of wine, or hearing the opening chords of your favorite song. Love is forgiving.

Love, too, can sometimes make you feel like the people that were still playing music as the Titanic began to sink. It's gorgeous, selfless, and essential, but it can be temporary and heart-wrenchingly sad, all at the same time.

Love is not perfect. It is not an illusion, and it is not smoke and mirrors. Love is flawed.

But, then again, so is life, and faith, and destiny; all of which I believe in much more than God, and prayers, and bible verses right now.

Destiny is the idea that the events in our life follow a set plan - one that has a purpose. It is a pre-determined course of events far beyond human power or control. I may not have known it then, but, I know now that I was always meant to walk into LAX at exactly 5:21 PM on the evening of May 17th, 2016 and randomly choose Sarasota, Florida as my vacation destination. It wasn't a coincidence after all that I was aboard the only plane in over two years - that's what the flight attendant for Southwest Airlines said at least - that made an abrupt landing due to mechanical issues. It was written somewhere in the stars that the state of Nevada just so happened to change their laws, and wouldn’t allow annulments of marriages until six months after the wedding date. That one, small change gave Jax and I a chance to see if we could thrive together in the real world, outside of the bubble that he and I created with one-another over those few short days in Sin City.

All of these events - these moments, these bits of high intensity that turn our lives upside down, define who we are. Each of us is the sum total of every moment that we have ever experienced with everyone that we have ever known. These moments are the ones that become our history, and these moments are the ones that lead us to our destiny. They seal our fate for how life is supposed to turn out.

But, what if you fuck up, take the path that you were never supposed to, and piss destiny off?

What happens to you then?

Jax Teller was destined to be the heir of the throne - the president of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. He was never supposed to leave Charming, even though that's what his late father, John Teller, wanted for him. His destiny was never supposed to include two tours in Iraq, a small beach house in Florida, his own auto body shop, and a little girl that he loves more than anyone else in this world.

Especially if it led to him laying in a hospital bed in a fucking coma.

I don't know how we are going to get through this. I don't know what I'm supposed to tell our daughter, who thinks that this man hung the moon and stars - which he did, there's no doubt it my mind that he did, especially for her. She has been wrapped around his finger since the day she was born.

I don't know how much longer he can keep holding on. I don't know how many times I can keep praying for him to wake up and squeeze my hand, just like he's done a thousand times before.

One thing I know is that at least we will get through this together, as a family. We will face this head on, as husband and wife; as Jax and Alana Teller, just like we have every other curve ball that has been thrown our way these past seven years.

Because, I also believe in us.

And that’s the most important thing I needed to believe in right now.

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax x oc #the vow #fanfiction

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thecoolerjeffthekiller · 4 months

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too many web weaves about being your fathers daughter what about the girls who grew up to be boys that are just like their dads where is our web weave rep. my father is the worst man alive and I am his favorite son type shit

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a-go-ni-a · 2 years

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My top 3 male characters from isekai/reincarnation web comics (long post)

In 2020, with the pandemic, I had a lot of time in my hands and, like a lot of people, I’ve started to read South Korean comics with female protagonists, usually villainess, who turned back in time after their death or woke up in some novel or game they like. And in order to avoid a destined bad ending, they change the whole story, on porpuse or not.

There are A LOT of this kind of stories, some good, some bad. And, like any media, there are characters we love, character we hate, characters we love to hate and more.

These 3 guys are the bastards (affectionate) I like the most in all manhwa I am currently reading. There is no specific order. As you will see, my taste for fictional men is shit. Oh, and there will be spoilers (not from novels, because I don’t read any).

Side note: I think it’s funny I’m a Portuguese speaker (Brasil-sil-sil) who reads South Korean comics in Spanish and talks about them in a site where most people speak English.

Abel Heilon from I Became the Wife of the Male Lead (ongoing)

The duke from a region in the north grounded with monsters, Abel is cold and cruel like the weather of his domains. In this place, you must prove your value in order to survive.

He treats Fiona, the protagonist, bad when they meet. Then, when she shows her power, he finally accepts her and, as time passes by, he became her paternal figure. (HE ISN’T THE MALE LEAD.)

Why do I like him? There is this cruel and bloodthristy white haired bastard who basically adopts a little girl and treats her better than her shit family and is willing to do anything for her? Instant fave. You forgot your crown, king.

Lant Agriche from The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother (currently on hiatus) / Roxana (on Tapas)

(If you know this one, you must be asking yourself what’s my problem. We will get there)

A commom trope found in those web comics is “the protagonist has a shit family or a shit father” and Lant F*cking Agriche is the shitter father in the whole world.

Head of the villainous Agriche Family, Lant has a lot of wives and children, the latter he sees as nothing more than tools. The duke doesn’t even care if some kid dies.

The protagonist, Roxana, became her favorite daughter after showing him she is a valuable member of the family, not a good for nothing. Proving themselves to him is the only way the Agriche kids can have his attencion and recognation. But only THREE of all the children are seen as worthy by him.

Why the f*ck do I like him? The only logical reason is my shit taste for fictional men. That’s it. I didn’t even need to write anything, you could have guessed he’s the worst man ever drawn in any web comic only by looking at these pictures. I hate him, but I also love him.

Callisto Regulus from Death is the Only Ending for the Villainess (ongoing) / Villains are Destined to Die (on Tapas)

The crown prince, who has lost support from nobles during the war due to the Empress’s doing. A cruel and feared man who sees human lives as the same as insects.

If you like guys, get one (or more, your choice) who can be both ^

A love interest in a dating sim, in order to protect the heroine, the prince has killed the villainess countless times during the gameplay. After waking up as the said villainess, the infamous Penelope, the protagonist must avoid him at all costs if she wants to stay alive. But there is... something about this guy...

Why do I like him? What can I say about Callisto? Well, in his first appearance I just knew he would be my fave one among the love interests because he is the worst. (Shit taste, remember?) He is the perfect son of a b*tch (affectionate), he is funny in a way that puts everyone around him in a cold sweat. He’s the best, he’s the worst: that’s Callisto.

And THIS PANEL is the best one in the whole manhwa, I don’t do the rules.

I may do another post about my fave female protagonists later.

#manhwa #i became the wife of the male lead #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #how to protect the heroine’s older brother #death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #villains are destined to die #lant agriche #callisto regulus #kallisto regulus #texto en español

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years

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Pro Fighter

request: Hi, i have a request. Spencer x reader or bau team x reader where she gets kidnapped but no one knows that she was trained in the red room. The unsub live streams it to the bau team and *cue the black widow interrogation scene from avengers (2012)* and they are just whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck lmao. The ending is up to you, sorry if the request is a bit messy.

Warnings: Fighting, Cursing, Shook team

A/N:Guys I’m so bad at writing fight scenes it isn’t even funny, i’m better at making peoples hearts ache from fluff or angst! But I tried my best! This definitely isn’t my best work btw

Shit.

You woke up with a booming headache and a sharp pain in your ankle.

Looking around, the light is dim. A single hung light-bulb on the wooden panels of the ceiling. The smell is horrible, but you know what it is once you look around. Dead cows dangling from the ceiling. Rotting.

A camera is placed in front of you. The unsub is either streaming to the dark web, or to your team. Probably your team to drag them into his trap.

“Well well well, look at you! Finally awake huh sweet girl?”

A low, raspy voice spits out, walking out of the shadows and standing right behind the camera.

Tall, big gut, greasy black hair, and a rotten toothed smile.

“Good evening Mr. Meyer.”

He smiles, showing off his moldy yellow teeth.

“The rest of your friends are watching by the way. So unless you want a world of pain I advise not dropping any hints. In fact, don’t speak at all.”

You repress the urge to smirk, and you look directly in the camera, before feeling a wet trickle down your forehead.

Blood.

“Damn. I’m off my game today. I blame you Morgan. You kept yapping and yapping last night and I never got any sleep.”

The man seemed to not like you talking to them. He frowns, stomping forward and grabbing you by the hair. He yanks your face up and you can only hope that Garcia isn’t looking.

“Don’t talk to them sweet girl. I want your attention.”

He let’s go, crouching in front of you. His breath stenches of rotten fruit and eggs.

“Now then, since you are going to die tonight, figure I might as well have fun and tell you a story beforehand.”

You almost sigh, knowing that the team is scrambling to find you, but you have to get information. Of course you weren’t worried. You were raised in the red room for your entire childhood. Fighting on a sprained ankle and a concussion would probably hurt, but it would be alright. You would survive.

As long as you don’t get too terribly hurt.

“Once upon a time. There was a little boy.”

He stands, raising a hand and smacking you across the face. It stings, leaving a searing red feeling on your cheek, nearing your eye.

“This little boy had a father who had a lot of anger. His father brought women home every night, killing them slowly, like I’m doing to you.”

Another slap.

“But what father didn’t know, is that his precious son watched from afar, admiring the work he did. I am taking my father’s place in this world. His legacy will continue with me!”

He delivers a harsh punch to your stomach, making you groan and curl over, shutting your eyes tightly.

Alright time to end this guy.

“His legacy huh? You wanna make him proud? You won’t get the chance.”

You lean back in your chair as he leans in, smashing your head against his and knocking him back, standing up in the chair and spinning to hit him with the chair, breaking it in the process.

He stumbles on the ground for a moment before getting up, running straight at you. You hop up, landing on his shoulders and bashing at his head with his elbows as he tries desperately to beat your lower back and thighs.

“You fucking bitch!”

You continue to bash his head in with your elbows until he stumbles to the ground, passing out on top of you.

“Hey guys, you find out where I am yet? Because I have no fucking clue.”

You turn to the camera, wiping at the blood staining your dress shirt.

Meanwhile, the team was still trying to process what happened.

“Did anyone else see that? She just took down a 379 pound man who’s twice her size by herself. Did we- did we teach her that?”

“No we did not. Let’s hope she tells us what that place is or we’ll never get to question that.”

“Alrighty what do we have here? It looks like a butcher place? Or whatever you call them. Ummmm, There’s a whole lot of dead cow. He couldn’t have taken me far. The clock on the camera says it’s only been twenty minutes. I’m sure you guys have questions but I am getting tired of the scent of rotten meat, please hurry.”

“Garcia, Find her.”

“Already there, got two Butchery’s Within a fifty mile radius, go get my girl please.”

They split up into two teams, Rossi, Morgan, and Spencer on one team, while Hotch and Prentiss were on the other.

You busied yourself on the floor, tying the man up with the rope that was previously tied around your limbs.

Your entire body ached with the feeling of his fists beating you up before you had woken up.

“Ugh... My head is killing me...”

Your brain was throbbing from under your skull, the pain worst at the sight of your bloody gash. It was overwhelming. You could feel the way your mind so desperately wanted to shut itself down, but you couldn’t let it until they got you safe and sound.

There was a loud rapping on the large door from outside, an aggressively familiar voice following it.

“FBI agents put your hands up! We’re coming in!”

“It’s me Morgan, unsub is unconscious and alive.”

The door opens, Revealing three of your favorite agents. A smile on your face as their guns return to the holsters. Morgan rushes up to you, holding your head and checking to see how bad the injury is.

“Well my pro fighter, you have a whole lot of explaining to do when we get to Quantico.”

You shrug, wrapping an arm around his and Reid’s shoulders for support to walk.

“Yeah well, I might pass out so it can wait.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST(OPEN) @pinkdiamond1016 @spencer-reids-snow-white @sheepfather @eusuntgroot @libradolan

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whoacanada · 3 years

Text

Zimmerbro AU

Summary: Andrew Phillip Rowe could skate before he could walk, and it wasn’t until he was almost twenty and well on his way to becoming a Las Vegas Ace before he knew why.

a/n: that’s right we’ve got a secret zimmermann brother au based on the fact that Bob was an active pro athlete for almost 15 years before Jack was born and almost definitely had relationships before Alicia. This particular one resulted in a secret love child.

When the call finally went out that year — a request for players willing to billet the incoming draftees — Andrew had been the first in line.

His already sparsely decorated guest room had been primed for a new tenant since he’d learned Las Vegas’ abysmal season had earned them the first pick of the 2009 draft. In his mind, Andrew had envisioned a tearful confession. A family reunion nineteen years in the making where he’d finally get a chance to connect with a half-brother he’d grown up learning about through news articles and stats pages.

He wasn’t ready for Jack to pull out of the draft days before the ceremony; wasn’t ready for the claims of an overdose or speculation about suicide attempts. He certainly wasn’t expecting to have to open his home to a young man with limp blonde hair and deep circles under his eyes with the same enthusiasm he’d promised he’d offer to a son of Bob Zimmermann.

Andrew was hoping for a little brother.

He got Kent Parson instead.

______

“You remind me of my boyfriend.” Kent slurs one night, completely gone on Johnny Walker Blue borrowed from Andrew’s wet bar. “It’s your . . . face.”

“Shouldn’t talk about things like that,” Andrew cautions gently, covering his own surprise. “Never know who might be listening.”

“Who fucking cares? He won’t talk to me,” Kent continues, ignoring him and sniffing like he’s on the verge of sobbing or puking, both options equally unwanted. “They wouldn’t tell me if he was even alive.”

Another unwanted puzzle piece locks into place.

“Jack?” Andrew suggests softly, and Kent begins to cry.

“You won’t tell right?”

Andrew shakes his head no, long enough for Kent’s bleary eyes to focus on the gesture and take it seriously.

Things are different, after that conversation. Not worse, or better, just different.

________

“He’s my brother.”

Andrew admits this one night, for no reason other than that he can.

Kent is across the room, backlit by lights from the Strip, his legs dangling off the arm of his favorite couch as he scrolls through his phone looking for distractions. Parse hasn’t lived with Andrew for almost two seasons, but he still turns up like a bad penny whenever he needs to commiserate with someone who knows his more lascivious secrets. Truthfully, Andrew’s grateful for the company. He’s a pretty genial guy, but he’s always kept his distance, a personality trait he likes to think he shares with an unassuming sibling, but there’s no way to know for sure. The farther Andrew gets from the 2009 Draft, the less faith he has in a reunion that won’t just bring crippling sorrow to everyone involved.

A secret Zimmermann son who actually made it in the NHL. Who has his name on the Stanley Cup, not once, but twice, largely thanks to the spitfire forward lounging in Andrew’s living room.

“Who’s your brother?” Kent asks, not looking up from his phone.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

Kent barks a laugh and rolls his head lazily to smirk at Andrew.

“That’s funny. I guess you kinda have the same chin. Was Marky digging for chirps?”

Andrew has no idea what that means, but he sets down his tablet and says, “No, he’s actually my half-brother. My mom dated Bad Bob in ’84 and got pregnant.”

The lackadaisical smile on Kent’s face falters as his gaze sharpens, like he’s actually looking at Andrew for the first time. Andrew responds by gesturing at himself lamely.

“That’s not funny.”

“No.” Andrew agrees. “It isn’t.”

Kent swings his feet down off the couch and braces himself against the overstuffed leather. He doesn’t look mad, but there’s something too close to disbelief for Andrew to convince himself everything’s okay. It takes a moment, but Kent must find what he’s looking for on Andrew’s face.

“Does Bob know?” Kent asks with that familiar overfamiliarity, as if they both still have some personal relationship with the living legend.

“Yeah. When Mom got pregnant she told him she didn’t want the attention since it was only a fling — ”

“Who the fuck doesn’t lock down Bob Zimmermann?” Kent breathes. “Also, why the fuck did she tell you that?”

“No shit, right? She got him to sign away parental rights, set up a trust, never spoke to him again as far as I know. I didn’t find out until after I signed with the Aces. She didn’t want me to get blindsided if it all came out, but the story never broke.”

“I mean, does Bob know who you are?” Kent questions. “Does Jack?”

Andrew shakes his head no, because he doesn’t think so, and Kent flops back against the cushions, face slack with disbelief; it doesn’t take long for his features to shift to anger.

“You knew this whole time and you didn’t tell me? Even after I told you —“

“Okay, there’s a whole-ass difference between you fucking dudes and and me being ‘Bad Bob’s bastard’,” Andrew bites, curtailing Kent’s imminent hissy fit. Appropriately, Kent closes his mouth, almost pouting.

“Fine. But that’s fucked.” Kent says after a loaded moment of silence. “I’m sorry you’re . . . you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry you’re you, too.”

“You know Jack’s signing with the Falconers, right?” Kent offers like the worst kind of olive branch, unintentionally telling Andrew exactly what he was up to during that stretch of time between New England games a few months prior. “It’s not public but it’s happening. Ink’s dry.”

“I know. That’s why I told you. It’s gonna be weird,” Andrew swallows, thinking about playing Providence in the coming months.

“Fucking right it’s weird.”

_________

For the most part, the Las Vegas Aces are decent, stand up guys. Even with the accusations of gambling debts and mob connections with the ownership group, Andrew’s never been asked to hit a certain player a little too hard, or to take a dive so the other team gets a shot at a power play. A lot of talk, a lot of conspiracies, ‘Typical Aces hockey’, but there’s no malice. Not really.

Andrew thinks it’s hilarious he plays the game a lot like his estranged father, but he’s not a legend in the making, hell, at this point he’s barely regarded as more than a mid-level, reliable center that can bring home 40 points a season.

Carly whips behind Zimmermann’s back to clip his skate with a stick, dropping a ill advised chirp that sets every player in earshot on edge. Parse is close enough to catch the quiet slur, stiffening like he’s been hit, and Andrew watches Zimmermann recover quickly, steely and resolute.

Jack has his mother’s eyes — not the warm brown Andrew catches every time he looks in the mirror.

“He’s a fucking goon,” Andrew breathes, gliding up to Jack’s shoulder in lieu of an apology. Zimmermann doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze flicking to Andrew with the quiet rage of ‘who gives a fuck’. Andrew admires his commitment to the game. Coming back after so much, after so long, to willingly subject himself to the same kind of treatment that Andrew knows likely led to his original fall from grace.

“Hey,” Kent ducks his head as he slides up a little while later, mouthguard clenched between his teeth, and asks, “You see his twink?”

At Andrew’s obvious confusion, Kent jerks his head toward the glass behind the Falconers’ bench, to a raucous group of fans all sporting fresh Zimmermann jerseys. Andrew’s gaze drifts along the row of faces, lingering longer on the familiar, handsome couple beside the blonde young man. He may be imagining things — the stadium lights catching a bad angle — but for the briefest moment, Andrew holds eye contact with his father.

“He’s cute, right?” Kent says bitterly, like he doesn’t have a partner of his own back home.

“Yeah, he is. You gonna do anything about the slurs, Captain?” Andrew counters, earning a stern look from Parson.

“I’ll deal with Carly.”

“Oh, you will? Because I’ve never seen you shut him down before.”

“I’ll handle it.”

Kent’s expression goes stormy, and he gives Andrew a hard shove before skating off to set up for the next shift. To his credit, he does grab Carly by the arm and tell him something that earns a look of displeasure from the larger man, but Andrew knows a verbal warning won’t curtail someone as dead-set in his conservatism as Carly.

The next play, Carly flashes Andrew a toothy smile over the lineman’s shoulder, as if they’re in on the same joke, and his vision goes red.

__________

“Bad Bob’s outside,” Scraps rasps, like whatever brief interaction he’s just had has physically winded him. “He wants to talk to Flip.”

Andrew blinks up from the water bottle in his hands, previously concerned with the pink-stained gauze wrapped around his knuckles. A few of the guys start chirping, but most of them remain silent, still processing the fact that Andrew assaulted one of their own without clear motivation, in defense of an opponent.

“That’s what this was all about? You gunning for a trade?” Sorenson spits from his stall. “Needed to impress Bad Bob by beating the snot out of Carly?”

“Maybe I am,” Andrew sighs, pushing himself to his feet, wincing at the way his jaw aches from the few good hits Carly had managed to squeeze in before he went down. “What the fuck are you gonna do about it.”

_______

Andrew’s grateful he kept his skates on. He needs the boost of confidence that comes with the added height, especially when he finds Bob Zimmermann waiting patiently in the corridor like he’s just another staff member and not the second most recognizable figure in modern hockey.

“Hey kid,” Bob greets, casting an approving, overly-familiar eye over Andrew’s padded bulk and sweat-slick hair. “You can throw a hell of a punch. Don’t think I’ve ever seen a guy beat the piss out of a teammate before. Off ice, sure, but never during a game.”

His accent is just as thick in private as every interview Andrew’s ever caught live — but his tone is unexpectedly warm, even grateful — when Bob laughs at his own recounting of Andrew’s assault attempt, the sound is light and joyous like nothing in the world comes easier to this titan of a man.

Andrew wonders if Bob can recognize the chin they share beneath a his playoff beard; if there’s any resemblance left in a nose that’s been reset a half-dozen times.

Andrew grew up loved and never wanted for anything. His step-fathers, both of them, had been good men who never left him looking for a father figure. It wasn’t until his twenties that Andrew even realized there was hole where his bio-dad should have been, and not just a regular hole, a yawning sinkhole threatening to devour his entire sense of self, because his biological father turned out to be a man he grew up idolizing as a personal hero.

He’s not mad at his mother, but when Andrew struggles to find his voice — which is bullshit seeing as he’s almost thirty-five and a god-damned professional athlete — he can’t stop himself from feeling like a misplaced child.

“Do you,” Andrew swallows, looking over Bob’s shoulder to see if anyone’s watching them. Finding they’re alone, he rallies quietly, “Do you know who I am?”

Bob’s jovial expression softens into something remorseful, but unfathomably kind. “I do, buddy,” he acknowledges, somehow squeezing three decades of affection into one term of endearment. “I’ve known for some time, now. The whole time, actually.”

That hurts more than expected.

“Does your wife? Does Jack?”

Bob shakes his head, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Alicia knows, and Jack has some idea he’s got a half-brother, but it’s all in the abstract. No specifics. Definitely doesn’t know you play. I wanted to respect your privacy and your mother’s wishes. She let me know she’d told you the truth a few years back and I wanted to give you the space you needed if you decided to reach out. When you didn’t, well, a man makes assumptions.”

Andrew looks down at the concrete beneath his skates and sniffs hard, fighting nasal drip from the smelling salts he’d needed in the third period; or, at least, that’s what he tells himself. “I had a plan, back when — ” he stops himself, looking down at his skates. Bob’s eyebrows lift in curiosity, leaving room for Andrew to gather his thoughts, but he doesn’t take the bait, unable to bring up what could have been just yet. Bob seems to grasp the context after the moment.

“2009,” he acknowledges softly. “Hell of a year.”

“Yeah. It was. Is he okay?”

“What, Jack? He’s leagues ahead of where he was then —”

“No, I mean, tonight. Carly clipped him pretty hard before I got in there.”

“Oh, a little bruised up, but he’ll live. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Okay.”

Andrew looks down at his bandaged fist and realizes he’s completely forgotten how gnarly his face must look.

“Trainer says I’m alright, but I’m gonna get leveled with a wicked fine, I know it.”

“Was it worth it?” There’s a look of guilty pride on Bob’s face, like the man’s enjoying himself a little too much when he leans in and whispers, “You just did something I’ve wanted to do since Jack was in mites. Fucking lay out one of those fuckers that’s got nothing better to do than bitch because they can’t play,” there’s a moment of hesitation, as if he’s worried about pushing a boundary, before he adds, “How’d it feel to look out for your little brother?”

Pride, it turns out, in contagious, and Andrew feels like he could go back on the ice and do it all over again. “Pretty fucking great,” Andrew can’t help a smile, wincing when the gesture pulls at his split lip.

Bob slaps a hand on Andrew’s shoulder pads, then gets a grip on the back of his head, heedless of his sweaty hair.

“Crisse, you’re a fuckin’ beaut, kid. I’ve wanted to tell you that for years.”

Andrew can’t blame the smelling salts anymore.

__________

Jack clearly doesn’t see his father standing there with red-rimmed eyes, or Andrew in an equally unkempt state, and has no reason to think anything untoward has happened when he offers a handshake and pulls Andrew into a hug, bouncing his free fist off the back of Andrew’s pads. “I owe you a drink,” Jack says decisively when he pulls back, shooting a grin between his father and Andrew. “Can’t believe you did that.”

“More than a drink, I think,” the blonde guy Andrew saw behind the bench pipes up. Jack’s ‘twink’. Boyfriend. Whatever. “Dinner at least.”

“A pie,” Bob suggests tightly, keeping his voice even as he turns to quickly scrub his fist over his eyes. Andrew recognizes the statuesque woman who strides up beside Bob, and one quick look tells him she definitely knows who he is.

“Hello, Andrew,” Alicia greets softly, genuinely. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” he says, the tightness in his throat coming out as gruffness rather than emotion. “This is great, but I should go shower and, uh, it was nice meeting you all.”

Bob’s hand whips out and fists the sleeve of Andrew’s sweater, keeping him in place.

“You have plans tonight?”

Andrew debates lying, because he doesn’t know how to move forward from this point, but they’re all looking at him. Waiting. Expectant. There’s too much at stake, and yet somehow — A sharp whistle drags Andrew’s attention back to the locker room. Kent is peeking his head out, and god knows how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“Yo, Zimmermanns. Bittle.”

“Parson.” The blonde says curtly, earning a wry smirk from Kent.

“Flip, we got a presser if you feel like putting a bow on the evening,” Kent’s gaze drifts to Bob’s flushed face, and he adds, “Or, you can shower and slip out the loading bay while I cover for your aggro ass because this is not going to be fun. Your call.”

Andrew looks at the small family surrounding him, his family, and says, “I don’t want to explain.” Kent shrugs and ducks back inside while Bob’s brow furrows in confusion. “I can do dinner, but I don’t want to,” Andrew holds his hands out in front of him, trying to gesture what he means, and Bob snaps his fingers in understanding.

“Ah, ha, I got you, kid.”

“Neat. I’m gonna go shower.”

“We will be here when you’re ready,” Alicia offers. “Take your time.”

“Oh, I will,” Andrew replies before he can stop himself, cringing the second his back is turned because what the fuck could he be any more awkward?

Time will tell.

_____________

#zimbits #jack / bitty #omgcp #check please #my fic #my stuff #lost zimmermann brother au #bob's got another kid and I named him andrew again!#kent is not a bad guy #only carly is a bad guy and we hate him #long post #because it's a mini fic!

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percydarling · 3 years

Text

Weasley Family relationships: George and Perce

GEORGE

George Weasley doesn't understand his twin's adoration with Perfect Percy.

He doesn't like Percy. Percy is boring.

Fred tells him that Percy was funny and read them books but George doesn't remember anything.

He thinks Fred made it up to put Percy in a better light.

George does remember Percy calling Fred Freddie. So George calls him Freddie too.

George just doesn't have a good relationship with Percy. He just doesn't.

Percy tries though. He tries with sweets and toys and books and a lot of things. But if you bribe someone to like you with food and things is the relationship even real?

George observes. He observes Percy because Percy is interesting. He knows all of Percy's moods at this point.

He observes Percy because Percy is unexpected. Percy can change moods in minutes.

It's easier to go unnoticed when you're the quieter twin.

People forget that besides pranks George can have other interests.

He was painting Mum when Percy entered his room. The whole family had gone out and Percy and him were home alone.

"That's beautiful George. How long have you painting it?"

"About an hour."

"She really looks like Mum."

And he knows that Percy is genuine when he says that because he knows that Percy actually examines work before complimenting it.

That was the first time George accepted that Percy is his brother.

"You should sell your work."

"What?"

George is shocked. He just didn't realise that he could get money for his work.

"Yes. You can sell your work to people in the village and they can pay Muggle money which we can convert into galleons!"

Percy even started writing in his book about the plan and doing calculations.

George didn't even know what to say. If it were Bill or Charlie they would have said 'great job' and asked him to make portraits of them but Percy just went to business.

George wishes that Percy had been in Slytherin so he could have the courage to do so too.

And he does make money. Percy is a good salesmen. They manage to sell 18 of his paintings and make money.

George wants Percy to keep half but Percy refuses.

"They're your paintings. You put in the time and effort. You keep the money and keep it for yourself."

When Percy tells him to keep it for yourself he knows what Percy implies. Be selfish. Don't let the family take it.

That's the problem with the Weasley family isn't it? We give too much and receive nothing in return. Not freedom, not hope just love which gets us nowhere.

George can't forget Percy's words. He can't stop thinking about them. He's torn up about giving Mum the money or keeping it for himself.

He decides the latter option. He feels guilty but he knows it's the right option.

He doesn't even tell Fred.

Noone knows about the paintings besides Percy and he knows Percy is discrete.

George doesn't talk to Percy much after that but he does think that the pranks they play on Percy is too much sometimes.

(But Fred's the leader and George follows even though Fred is confused half the time.)

When Percy leaves, George isn't shocked. He saw it coming a mile away.

The way they treat him and the accusation that he's a spy, it seems to pile up on a person until they can't take ot anymore and leave.

George does miss Percy even if they weren't the best of brothers.

And with the war, Percy in the Ministry, Percy's at more risk than all of them. George understands this but he's not Percy's parents and Percy's old enough to comprehend right from wrong.

(George doesn't realise that even his older brother needs guidance at time)

George thinks that Mum is the worst at times always wailing about Percy but it's Fred whose the worst at hiding his emotions.

George can't tell whether Fred misses or hates Percy. His mood keeps changing rapidly but George was suprised when Fred threw food at Percy.

He didn't want to follow but they are 'twins' so he did it and to his horror so did Ginny which made it a 100 times worse.

George wouldn't blame Percy if he never came back.

But

He did.

He came back to fight and Fred was the first one to hug hin back.

He left Fred in Percy's capable hands and followed Charlie.

Percy would keep Fred safe. He always has.

Well turns out George is wrong.

OF COURSE HE IS.

It's Percy. Percy can never do anything right in his stupid pathetic life.

He punches Percy in the face. Percy deserves it.

He killed Fred.

And his family members can try to reassure him and convince him all he want but he and Percy both know that Percy did indeed kill Fred.

He doesn't like that Percy's staying with them. But Mum lost one son she can't lose another so George keeps his mouth shut.

He doesn't eat for the first few days. He can't.

His twin is dead.

For the firs time in his life, Geirge wants the word twin back.

It's difficult for everyone. He knows that but they don't get it.

Fred was always there. Like always and without him George feels like a shadow.

They all try to get him to eat. They make his favorite dishes.

(Sadly, they're all Fred's favourite dishes and George has to choke back a sob everytime)

He doesn't talk to Percy much. He expected Percy to come and get him to eat but Percy doesn't.

Instead he slids paint supplies under the door.

It's so random and spontaneous George wants to laugh.

Percy wants him to paint?

George does paint. He paints Fred because he has to. He paints Fred to keep his memory alive.

He paints Fred because he has to remind himself he is not Fred.

He looks like Fred but he isn't. He isn't. He isn't.

(George doesn't understand why it's so difficult to accept that.)

It's a long time before George realises It's because his whole life he has always been second.

It's always "FredandGeorge" or the twins. It's never been only George.

He doesn't know who he is.

Percy does. Percy knows he's not Fred.

So when it's Percy's turn to get him food. He lets him in.

"You let me in?!"

"Ya, Perce"

After that Percy's quiet. When George turns around he sees Percy staring at Fred's portrait.

"It's marvelous. Really great portrait of him!"

"Really? How do you know its Fred and not me?"

"Well if you see Fre..Fred has more freckles on the right side of his face as compared to yours and your eyebrows are a bit thicker and ....."

Percy gets everything right. George has never felt closer to his brother than right now.

He talks to Percy everyday a bit more. It helps. It helps George to figure out who he is.

Percy even arranges Fred's funeral.

A week before the funeral a question occurs in his head.

"Is he still a twin if his twin is dead?"

He asks his family. They say yes without thinking. They say yes to make him feel better. Ginny and Mum just give him a hug instead of answering.

He doesn't want their comfort. He just wants an explanation why yes.

So he asks Percy the one person who actually would answer him the why.

"Percy am I still a twin if my twin is dead?"

Percy thinks. He doesn't say yes immediately.

George knows it's a stupid question but he asks it anyway because he needs it to be answered.

"Yes you are because being a twin doesn't end when your twin is dead. You were born on the same day. That's what makes you twins. Not death. You were born together. You are both identical. Your twin's death doesn't change your status."

George needed to hear it.

Percy was the only one who understood how George is George. So he asks Percy to give the eulogy and Percy accepts.

When it's time, Percy delivers the best speech and George hangs on every last word and when Percy does the memories in the sky thing,

George forgives Percy.

That's when, after hearing the regret and sorrow in Percy's voice does George forgive him because Percy didn't kill Fred. The war did.

After the funeral he makes more of an effort and so does Percy.

Percy helps him reopen Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The grand reopening is a success and attracts a lot of customers.

George talks to Percy everyday. It feels good to catch up with his older brother and renew their relationship.

Percy asks him to teach him to paint and that's how Percy becomes amazing at painting landscapes while George paints portraits.

That's also how they start painting classes on weekends and teach children their art.

Percy reconciles him with Angie. Everytime he has a fight with Angie, he comes to Percy who makes him straight and he apologises to Angie immediately.

(Of course sometimes it's the other way round and Angie has to apologise, that's when he spends the night with Percy.)

He asks Percy to be his best man. He was going to ask Lee but he wants his favourite brother there besides him.

Percy gives a great speech. Someone should give him a goddamn award.

When George meets Audrey, he knows Percy loves her because he never brings girls home unless he's sure and Audrey's likeable.

He's Percy's best man at his wedding and wasn't that a night to remember!

When the second of May comes around, he and Percy sit besides Fred's gravestone early in the morning before their family come around.

For a while George can feel Fred's presence and Percy makes a joke on Middle Kids club which makes George laugh cause it's true.

When he meets Molly the second and Lil Lucy Goosy, he just stares at them.

They're twins.

THEY'RE TWINS.

George doesn't know whether to laigh or cry because they're twins and they're alive, both of them together and it pains George so much..

But Percy looks so anxious at his response and nervous and scared of being a father that George just laughs because they're alive together and that's what matters.

"They're wonderful Percy. They're just so beautiful."

"Congratulations you are officialy their godfather."

"WHAT?!"

George and Percy love each other very much and would give their life for one another.

#percy weasley centric #percy weasley #george weasley #angsty #weasley brother relationship

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somenewsarah · 4 years

Text

Dear Draco ~ Part One

Summary: Ten years ago, Draco was sure you were dead. But after receiving a letter from none other than you, his world is flipped upside down.

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Fluff, a lil angsty

Requested: No, requests currently closed while I finish my sitting requests :)

Warnings: None

A/N: I know it’s been a while, and this is likely all over the place~ just something that’s been on my mind for a while and finally had some time to sit down and plot it out! Part 2?

The warmth of the fire can’t drive away the cold. It creeps in, starting from his toes and runs all the way to his chest. That cold that can only be associated with his own sadness. Draco sits in his favorite chair by the hearth, his eyes scanning the letter over and over again. Surely he’d seen this before.

“Darling,” Astoria, his wife of six years starts. “I’m putting Scorpius to bed, are you coming?”

“Not tonight,” he says. It’s firmer than intended, but he can’t even drag his eyes away to apologize.

Astoria lingers in the doorway of their meager living room of their meager cottage that they’d fallen in love with when they first saw it, but now needed more space. She eyes her husband warily and the letter in his hand, that smelled of the sweetest perfume and has him in a tizzy. She knew there’d been someone before her. Someone that never made it out of the war. Someone he loved more than anyone.

Astoria sighs, her eyes still watching her husband for a single second before she slips down the hallway.

Draco brings the letter to his lips, kissing the very paper it was written on, his mind wandering back to all the kisses he gave to you, all the times he’d kiss your forehead and hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He can’t believe the letter had even come.

Dearest Draco,

I’m sorry if this letter reaches you late. It is now May 10th, 1998, and by now you must be sure that I am dead.

Draco puts the letter down for a moment, his heart almost completely stopping in his chest. Alive? Is she alive? Should he leave now?

I hope someday you can forgive me for letting you think I’d ever meet such a fate in a war, but I assure you I am, for now, safe and sound. I made a deal with Dumbledore before your task. I’m continuing his work, growing my own power and studying as much as I can. I’ve followed the knowledge, as I always told you I would. I wrote the first half of this letter once I’d gotten out safely, but couldn’t bring myself to finish it. It is now August 25th, 2008. Ten years since I started.

She’s alive. She must be, if he’s receiving this letter now. He sets it on the arm of his chair and stands, pacing in that Draco Malfoy way. He stoops at the chair for his whiskey and the letter, his eyes scanning it.

I’ll be returning to London soon. I’ve taken up the Potions Master position at Hogwarts under Mrs. Granger’s rule, and I wanted you to be the first to know that I’ll be coming back. I hope to see you in Hogsmeade on the 29th of August. You know where. I’ll be there at 3pm, and I hope you show. I want to hear all about your life, Draco. Did you ever marry? Are you happy? I miss you, and I hope that you’ve built a life for yourself.

See you?

Love,

Y/N

Draco sits down in his chair again, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. Seeing you. Tomorrow. For the first time in ten years. The longest ten years of his life, thinking you were dead. The worst ten years. No, he married. He has a son. He became one of the most well-respected and astute healers in the entire wizarding world. He’s had a wonderful ten years. Right?

He stands again, pacing and pacing and pacing. Alternating between his drink and smelling your sweet, sweet smell that he’d tried so hard to preserve in one of his t-shirts you always wore to bed.

Astoria leans against the doorjamb, watching Draco pace and pace. She knows that pace. He’s stressed and conflicted and terrified. That look on his precious face…

She walks to him, taking his face in her hands.

“Draco,” she says firmly, catching his attention. “What is it?”

He’s quiet for a moment and she holds her breath, searching his face for any kind of answer.

“It’s Y/N,” he says, his voice almost a ghost of a whisper. “She’s alive. And she’s coming back. And she wants me to meet her tomorrow.”

Astoria drops her hands from his face, taking in his words. So, this was it, then. She knew who he would choose should it come down to it.

“That little twit,” Astoria breathes. “How selfish can she be?”

Draco, taken aback, gazes at his wife. “Selfish?”

“You were in hell for the first years of us being together because of her! You moped at our wedding. You won’t dare allow me to do simple things like wear your clothes to sleep in or go through your old Hogwarts trunk. All because you thought she was dead!” Astoria roars, finding her voice now.

“Darling, calm down,” Draco starts.

“Calm down?” Astoria roars, growing louder. “You’re going to tell me, your wife, to calm down, after telling me you’re going to meet the woman you’ve secretly wished I was for the last ten years? Don’t tell me to calm down, Draco. Don’t.”

Draco sighs. He paces the length of the family room, only stopping to sink into his chair.

“Astoria, I don’t know what to say,” he sighs. He drags his hands down his face, haunted almost. “She was the love of my life. She taught me everything I know about love and how to do it. That I was capable of it.

“Would you leave me for her?” Astoria asks suddenly, eyeing her husband.

“I wish I had an answer for that,” Draco relents.

Astoria nods. She squares her shoulders, holding her chin high as her eyes water. “Then you can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

She turns and exits into the hallway, and Draco can hear her stalking to the bedroom and the telltale door slam.

Astoria doesn’t speak to him all morning. She gets Scorpius ready for his mid-day lessons and ignores Draco.

So, he gets up, showers, tousles his hair, and squirts on some of his best cologne. He’d look like the happiest man in the world today. Maybe because he is.

He leaves the house without a word to Astoria, only stopping to kiss Scorpius on his head and whisper a quick “I love you,” words he never heard from his own father.

Hogsmeade bustles with shop owners and consumers and students, all exploring the new world and everything it has to offer. Draco walks amongst the crowd, his teeth chattering despite the warm August day. His nerves make every step feel longer than it is, and his palms sweat profusely. He allows his mind to wander as he forages down the cobblestone pathway; what would you look like? What would you be wearing? Would you smell the same? Did you ever marry? Are you happy?

His train of thought is halted as he approaches the place that you used to call your spot. The little ice cream shop across from Creepy Cauldrons, a vehement Halloween only shop. You and Draco would go on ice cream dates almost every Hogsmeade trip since fourth year when you admitted you fancied him, and he you. It was the one spot he couldn’t bring himself to walk into when he thought you were dead. Not even with Scorpius.

He pushes open the door, the little bell jangling as it always does. It doesn’t take long for him to spot you. You were in the same booth you were always in when you’d meet up. Your booth you shared together.

Draco approaches you, though your back is to him. He wonders if it’s a dream. Could it really be you? Is this a cruel prank?

Upon hearing his footsteps, you turn, Y/E/C eyes locking with his grey ones. Draco stops. His heart stops, his mouth dry, his eyes watering. It’s really you.

You stand and move to hug him, but Draco is stiff. He doesn’t hug you back.

“Draco,” you start, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry this is so sudden. I understand if you don’t want me back in your life at all, I just wanted a moment to explain myself.”

Draco nods. He takes his old seat, and you sit across from him.

Over his shoulder, Sir Harrington- the owner of the ice cream parlor- gives you a thumbs up. He’d been serving you ice cream since you were kids, and you had no doubt he would forget you or Draco.

“So,” Draco begins. He hides his shaking hands underneath the table. “You’re back? For good?”

“For good,” you relent.

“I thought you were dead,” Draco says. His voice betrays him and cracks. He clears his throat, but doesn’t continue.

“I know,” you say. You reach across the table for his hand, but he doesn’t move. You withdraw your hand, knowing he’ll be cold as ice until you can crack him. “I know what everyone thought. I knew the repercussions of what I did, but I’m only sorry to you.”

“Sorry to me?” He asks. “You’re sorry? You came here to tell me you’re sorry?”

“Draco,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t. You don’t know what it was like. I thought you were dead. I moved on. I lived in hell every single day that you were gone. I can’t even look my wife in the eye without wishing it were you,” he says through his teeth.

“You married, then,” you say. Your resolve weakens, and you know it’s hopeless.

“I did. Astoria Greengrass and I wed in 2001. It’ll be seven years in December.”

“I see,” you say. “I’m happy for you, Draco.”

“We have a son. Scorpius.”

You nod, chuckling to yourself. “The name we picked out for our first son?”

Draco nods, and has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Astoria knows what you meant to me. I wanted to keep you alive in my memory somehow.”

“Meant?”

Draco remains silent, his eyes on his hands as he considers his own words.

“Mean,” he says, finally meeting your gaze.

You sigh and allow yourself a moment to get lost in his eyes the way you wanted to every minute you were gone.

“I didn’t want to leave you, Draco,” you admit. “But it was for the best. I was doing dangerous potions work. Collecting samples of serums from creatures that can only be found in the deepest, darkest corners of the world. It was the type of exploring that I had to do alone.”

“You could’ve at least told me you were alive,” Draco says. He leans across the table, taking your cheek in his palm. “I died over and over again every day that I thought you were gone.”

You bring your hand up, holding onto his wrist, letting his words soak into your brain. You know you’ll likely never hear them again.

“I didn’t know if I would ever come back,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat. “So many times I was sure I was dead, but I kept fighting. I wanted to come back to you.”

Draco drops his hand, though you had the feel of his warm palm on your skin already committed to memory.

“What are we to do?” He asks, reaching for your hand.

You trace the silver wedding band sitting on his left hand, fourth finger. “We go on with our lives. I’m sure I’ll be teaching Scorpius someday. I’m glad that you found love, Draco, and I’m sorry that it wasn’t with me.”

You stand, turning your back on the boy you love so dearly, and walk out of the shop.

Draco sits for a minute, taking everything in. Why hadn’t he tried to stop you? Why hadn’t he reached out for you? Why did he let you walk away from him again?

When Draco enters, Astoria rises from her place at their dining room table. She’s prepared for the worst, but Draco doesn’t look haunted anymore. For the first time in her life, he looks alive.

“Draco?”

His head whips to her, like he hadn’t seen her.

“Oh,” he says. “Hello.”

“How was it?”

“It was… good?” he says. He takes a seat at the table, his eyes trained on his hands, recalling the feeling of her finger on his wedding band. “She said she’s happy I’m happy.”

“What else?” Astoria pries.

“She just wanted to let me know she was alive,” he says. “She’ll be teaching potions at Hogwarts. She likes that we used her name for Scorpius, said she looks forward to teaching him someday.”

“She didn’t… she didn’t ask you to be with her?” Astoria asks. She can’t hide the shock from her voice.

“No,” Draco says. “She didn’t.”

“Well,” Astoria starts, her voice returning to normal. “I’m happy she’s okay. Come now, let’s shower.”

Draco rises, follows his wife into their bathroom, all the while in a daze. His mind wanders to his time at Hogwarts with you, how much he loved you then and he wonders if maybe he still does.

You look back at Draco, giggling as you pull him through the snow, trying to outrun Crabbe and Goyle to Hogsmeade.

“Darling, come on!” You grin back at him. “They’re going to eat all the chocolate chip, and you know it’s my favorite!”

“Slow down,” Draco laughs, pulling you to a halt. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing!”

“Oh, it’s just a little cold,” you smile up at him. “We’re going to get ice cream, come on!”

“Maybe we should get some soup or something?” Draco asks, keeping you tucked into his side. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

You lean up, kissing him sweetly. “I love the way you take care of me, even when you’re stressed.”

Draco’s cheeks redden as he smiles down at you, his blond hair flopping in his eyes as he kisses your forehead. “You’re my love. I’ll always take care of you.”

Your returning smile is dazzling as you stop in the snow to hug him tightly, relishing in his warmth.

“Just two more years and we can graduate and be married!”

Draco towel-dries his hair as he sits on the edge of his bed. His mind feels like an unraveled ball of yarn, but he can’t ever remember feeling so happy?

“What’s on your mind, love?” Astoria asks, crawling behind Draco on her knees. She rubs his shoulders softly, kissing at his shoulder blades.

“Her,” he admits. “I was just thinking about some of our time together in school. Just some memories, that’s all.”

“Let’s have another baby,” Astoria says suddenly.

Draco turns to look at her, his heart torn. “I don’t think now is really a good time, Astoria.”

“Why?” She pouts. “I think it’s as good a time as any.”

“I don’t,” Draco says. He removes himself from her grasp, standing so he can properly look at his wife. “I just… I can’t right now. I know you can’t understand this, but I’m really trying to be the husband that you expect me to be.”

Astoria gazes up at him. “You’re rejecting me?”

“No, Astoria, I-“

“If you wanted to meet my expectations as my partner, you’d give me another baby,” she says, determined.

“I don’t want another baby with you,” Draco says almost immediately. His eyes are wide as he takes in the enormity of what he’s just let slip. “Astoria, I’m sorry-“

“Don’t,” she hisses. She closes her robe and moves to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

Draco sits on the bed again, dragging his hands down his face once more. There it is, then. He doesn’t love his wife, he’s a terrible father, and everyone at St. Mungo’s would hear about this. With Astoria’s connections, he doubted there was a way out of this one.

Knock knock knock.

The door swings open and Narcissa Malfoy stands in the doorway, looking at her son who looks like he’d just walked miles and miles to even be at the manor. She takes him in her arms immediately.

“Hello, my darling boy,” she smiles, kissing his hair.

“Mum,” Draco says.

Narcissa ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. The manor had changed significantly since Lucius’ trip to Azkaban, where he remains for conspiring against the ministry. Everything is white and crème, no more blacks and greys, though the telltale Slytherin green still decorates the throw blankets and some statues.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Narcissa asks, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

Draco takes a seat across from her.

“Do you remember Y/N?”

“Oh, how could I forget? She was fierce. It’s a shame what happened to her, I quite liked her,” Narcissa says, reminiscing to herself. “She would’ve done incredible things.”

“I saw her today,” Draco says. “She’s alive.”

“Oh, darling, are you still mourning her? I can get you some help, though you are the healer of the family,” Narcissa rambles.

“No, mum,” Draco says. He wipes his palms on his pants legs. “I mean, she wrote to me, and we met at the ice cream parlor. She’s alive. And she’s come back to teach at Hogwarts.”

Narcissa sits up immediately.

“Draco…” she starts, choosing her words carefully. “But, what about Astoria? Scorpius? You have a responsibility to your family.”

“I know,” Draco says. He rests his chin in his palm. “If she’d just told me she was alive… If she’d just… I would’ve waited.”

“Don’t say that,” Narcissa goads. “Then you wouldn’t have Scorpius.”

“I can’t pretend that I don’t love her, mum. Astoria wants another baby. I just… I would’ve waited.” Draco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Does Astoria know?”

“Yes,” Draco nods. “She’s not happy about it.”

“No one would expect her to be,” Narcissa says. “She’s just found out the same news that you have, but now it’s a waiting game for her.”

“A waiting game?” Draco asks, looking up at his mother.

“Draco,” Narcissa smiles. “When have you ever picked anything over that girl? You were almost killed trying to protect her. It’s only a matter of time until you can accept the consequences and chase after her.”

“I’ll lose everything,” Draco says, his eyes searching Narcissa’s. “I’ll lose my life, Astoria will make sure of that.”

Narcissa stands and crosses the space between them to sit next to her son. She takes his hands in her own.

“Answer me this, darling,” she starts. “Are you happy?”

Draco takes a moment to consider this, chewing on his lip.

“I love Scoripus, and-“

“That’s not what I asked,” Narcissa interrupts. “Can you honestly look at me and tell me that you’re happy.”

“No,” Draco admits. “I’m miserable. I’m stuck. I don’t love Astoria, she was just a good option, as harsh as it is. She deserves better, but I can’t lose my son.”

“Go to her,” Narcissa instructs. “Tell her how you feel.”

“Which one?” Draco asks, holding onto Narcissa’s hands for dear life.

“That’s up to you,” Narcissa advises. “But always remember this: You’re a Malfoy and no matter what, there’s respect given for the name alone. I can spin a bad reputation, but I can’t heal my broken boy.”

You flit around your kitchen- though it’s not really a conventional kitchen- throwing herbs and animal parts into the large cauldron that adorns the middle of the room. Who needed a dining table when you can eat in bed?

Taking a whiff of the potion, you smile- it’s perfect. You’re just about to extract it when there’s a knock on your door.

Draco stands behind it, hands in his pockets, cheeks rosy, hair perfect.

“Draco,” you smile. You hold the door open, inviting him in. “What a pleasure! I would’ve tidied a bit had I known you’d be dropping by.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” he smiles. “I called in a favor with the Weasleys to get your address. Still messy as ever?”

You laugh that cathartic laugh of yours, throwing your head back momentarily as you gesture around you. “Would you expect anything less?”

“Frankly, I don’t know how you function,” Draco laughs. “How do you find anything?”

“Organized chaos,” you shrug. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to goad me into cleaning, though. Is everything alright?”

At your question, Draco is pacing again. Honestly, this boy could pace a hole in the floor, but you only lean against the kitchen counter, your arms folded, watching him in all his amusing glory.

“What I’m about to say is going to sound daft,” he starts, chewing his thumb. “But I think I might still be in love with you.”

He stops pacing and looks at you finally, but you can only raise an eyebrow at him.

“Draco, you’re married.”

“I know. And it feels so wrong,” he admits. He closes the space between you, taking your face in his palms so gently. “But I’ve never felt as alive and free as I do when I’m with you.”

You pull away quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible as to not offend him.

“I know how you feel, because I feel the same way,” you start. Draco’s eyes light up. “But… I can’t be with you.”

“Why not?” He asks, visibly shrinking.

“You’re married!”

“What if I weren’t?” He counters.

“That’s not the situation,” you retort. “You are married. Had I known, I likely wouldn’t have written you. I would’ve let you find out on your own. I never meant to come between you and your family.”

Draco runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated.

“You are my family,” he growls. “Can’t you see? You and Scorpius and my mum are the only people in this world who truly matter to me. I married Astoria because it was what was expected of me.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the way the world works,” you sigh. “I love you, Draco. I always have. I’ll probably love you forever. But I’m not a backup plan. You thought I was dead, you moved on. That’s something I’ll have to live with.”

“Y/N,” Draco starts. He folds his hands in front of him, and he grows more and more flustered by the second. “I’m standing right in front of you, telling you that I choose you.”

“And have you told your wife that?” You counter, folding your arms again.

“I wanted to see how you felt first,” he confesses. “I was leaving either way, or so it seems. I just wanted to see what you thought.”

“Draco,” you sigh. “Worry about your family for now. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Though the night is calm and peaceful, a storm brews in Draco’s mind at the thought of walking inside of his home. He sits outside on the front steps, encased in darkness, when it occurs to him that the home shouldn’t be dark.

Curious, he stands and pushes open the front door with no resistance. It should’ve been locked. Flipping on the lights, Draco chokes back a sob. The home is empty of any presence of anyone other than himself. No photos on the walls. No dishes in the pantry. No drawings or lesson reports on the table from Scorpius. Everything lay bare and abandoned and sad. Everything but one envelope sitting on the small kitchen table, now devoid of any flowers or vases.

Dear Draco,

After hearing of your escapades with Y/N, I’ve taken Scorpius away. I don’t know for how long we’ll be gone, or where we’re going, but I will not be a second option. I’ll allow you to decide: Me, your wife. Your son. Your home. Your career. All of your dreams. Or her.

Should you make a decision, send my owl immediately, as I’m sure she will have no problem finding me.

With all the love in my heart,

Your Wife

Astoria Malfoy

501 notes · View notes

lambourngb · 3 years

Text

a skeleton of something more [3/7]

previously here. malex wip based on the trailer for season 3, some spoilers and my own speculation. I’m failing at the daily serial because keeping to 2K is impossible, but hoping to have it finished by next week.

Warnings: NSFW content, not forrest long friendly

*** NOW ****

Alex shut off the streaming hot water reluctantly, and shifted back on the new shower bench to lean his head against the tile.

His fingertips were pruned from the long shower, his attempt at using the scalding water to try to wash away the dirt he felt covered in after being away from Roswell for so long. Pointless endeavour, when he knew the filth was more than skin deep at this point. It was in his bones. It was in his blood, the way the Manes name still opened the worst doors. Alex touched the corners of his smile with his hands, looking for the edge of the mask he wore around Deep Sky and finding only the bristle of his beard growing in, a very late five o’clock shadow.

The steam of the shower was slowly fading, bringing back the visual details of his naked body. His stump was slightly swollen, the marks of wearing his prosthesis for too long, but it was hard to feel safe without it on, doing the work he was doing around even more paranoid men than he was. Three years past his injury, the scars were still ugly to his eyes as he cupped his fingers over the end of his right leg, but time had faded the lines from an angry red to a wizened white.

Alex hoped that time would do the same to his soul.

He moved his hand from his stump, over to his thighs to stretch the lingering soreness from his legs. He ignored where his cock laid, half-full of blood from the simple pleasure of a hot shower; the desire to let himself feel good was far from his mind. Instead he focused on returning functionality to his body after the long, cramped ride on that bus. That was the physical challenge, the emotional one would be trickier.

It helped that he knew Michael was still there, in his house, probably fixing something else that had been neglected during Alex’s time away. Finding something that was broken or damaged, and then making it whole just with his touch, that was what Michael did naturally. Alex was no exception to that.

Every muscle was loose finally, thanks to the improved water pressure beating on the knots of tension until they turned into putty. Beyond the simple improvement of the plumbing, Michael had also relocated the shower taps to the wall next to the bench, so he could sit safely and turn on the water without balancing on one foot in the front of the stall.

New grab bars lined the bathroom walls as well. Alex had worried about the expense until he recognized the chrome and black rails from the boxes he had bought a while ago, before shuttling them off to the garage. Michael had apparently found the abandoned project and had finished it for him. The longer the trips he made away from Roswell were, the more involved the upgrades Michael made in his absence. He would need to prepare a cover story in case Forrest noticed the changes, a renovated bathroom went far beyond changing out bulbs in a light fixture.

He was getting closer to ending the sham relationship with Forrest, but he wasn’t there quite yet. His first night back in Roswell he had managed to steer Forrest away from his house and more importantly, his bed, but that was only a temporary reprieve. Tomorrow it would all begin again, playing the role of a grieving son looking to ‘understand’ his father, docilely following Forrest’s lead in ‘discovering’ the alien threat, letting the other man comfort him, but this time, that would all happen in front of Michael.

Michael knocked on the half-open bathroom door to get his attention, before stepping inside carrying a bath towel. “Are you still alive in there?”

“I am, but I want to marry this shower,” and you, he finished silently. Michael looked pleased by the comment as he stood outside the glass doors, waiting patiently as Alex pulled himself up from the bench and carefully hopped toward him. As he drew closer, the proud expression changed to one of open hunger as Michael took in his nakedness, cataloging the changes on his body. Downtime while he had been away from Roswell had often been filled with trips to the gym, exercising to work through his frustration at the slow pace of developments regarding Deep Sky. Weight lifting and core training had kept his hands away from his phone when the desire to check in with Michael took hold.

There was only so many times he could pass off a call to Michael about his mail or paying a bill for his house.

Alex held out his hand for the towel, while Michael stared at him, his gaze almost physical as he lingered over the swells of muscle. He snapped his fingers at Michael to break the hypnosis.

At the sound, Michael blinked, but then avoided his hand to wrap the towel around Alex himself. Warmth from the soft linen enveloped Alex, a sign the towel was fresh from the drier. He closed his eyes under Michael’s safe hold, enjoying the blatant pampering as Michael gently patted Alex’s wet skin dry. “I don’t mind sharing you with the shower, especially if it means you’re not wearing clothes,” he murmured in Alex’s ear, nosing the lock of wet hair away.

Shivering under the ghost of Michael’s lips, Alex felt something start to knit and heal inside him, blanketed by more than just the towel. Love. Feeling more like himself, Alex teased Michael back, “You could have joined me.”

“It was tempting, very tempting, but then who would have made dinner if I had taken you up on that offer?” Michael tucked the towel around Alex, and then offered his arm as a support while Alex hopped toward the pile of folded sweats to wear.

“I have a lot of appetites, Michael, food is barely in the top five. And I can eat later, after you leave,-” Alex held his clothes in his hand, not moving to get dressed just yet.

“You can, but you won’t eat. As soon as I walk out that door, I know you’re going to park yourself in front of your computer and spend the rest of the night hacking, just like you’ve done nearly every night since this started.” Michael waited with a raised eyebrow for Alex to deny it.

Caught by both the frustration that Michael was right and by the ticking clock in his head that counted down the end of this precious time together, Alex conceded. He pulled his sweatshirt down over his head grumpily, “I didn’t spend every night hacking.”

“Just the nights when you weren’t with Forrest Long.” Michael said it quietly, turning away to hang up the wet towel.

Alex tucked his crutches under his arms, before reaching out to catch Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything, you know that, right? It’s just…friction.” He studied Michael’s face, worried that perhaps his patience with everything was wearing thin.

Over the last year, as he moved deeper and deeper into the circle of men that made up Deep Sky, Michael had been his lifeline to his real identity. A voice on the line, late at night, warm and beloved, reminding Alex what was important and keeping him grounded. During the day, his resolve had felt less certain. He had forced himself to echo the words of Jesse Manes to curry favor, ducking his reflection in the mirror when the hateful words started to come easier and easier to him. Then there was the feeling he had, when he had to accept Forrest’s offers to visit him in Los Alamos, the way he had felt weirdly relieved to see a familiar face, even if it was someone he couldn’t trust.

Hearing Michael’s voice led him back to himself, and then little by little, the updates were less mission-related and more personal. It had led them back to each other. By the second month, Michael had stopped dancing around things, admitting to Alex just how much he missed him and by the third month, Alex was slipping away to meet with him at half-way destinations to seal his words with actions.

It was reminiscent of his early days in the Air Force, finding Michael in out-of-the-way places where no one knew them. Back then, Alex had DADT and military physicals to dodge. Michael had to take care in leaving no marks on Alex’s body, while Alex had had no such restriction. Michael would leave those encounters, mauled with love bites and fucked thoroughly, while Alex stayed as pristine as his neatly pressed uniform. Eleven, twelve years on, the need for discretion had changed, from the military to Forrest Long.

That was the elephant in the room. Alex was still having sex with Forrest, mostly when he couldn’t avoid it with a trip out of town, like when he accompanied Forrest to Deep Sky owned properties. It was just friction, putting his body in motion to do a job, much like he had when he had deployed abroad. He had lost any amount of shame for what he was doing to the other man after the first time, when he had found a detailed write-up about his own visit to the Long Farm that Forrest had filed and sent to the mysterious leader of Deep Sky.

“I know.” Michael replied, his smile weak but real as Alex brought him closer for a slow, thorough kiss.

Alex inhaled the scent of rain into his nose as Michael melted in his arms and the kiss deepened between them. This was the opposite of friction, as they slid easily together in the doorway of the bathroom, until Alex’s stomach betrayed him thoroughly and growled. Michael broke away with a laugh, and Alex noted with relief that his earlier fragility had completely vanished from his eyes, as he headed toward the kitchen, “Come on, I made you your favorite for dinner, spicy tomato soup.”

“With strips of cheese toast?”

Michael looked offended at the question. “Of course.”

That was proof that Michael had been listening to him closely during their late night conversations, the way the subject migrated from business to the personal, until Alex had flat out whined over how terrible the food was at one of the Deep Sky outfits. “Forget looking for aliens, they should look for a new chef.” And then they were off and running about comfort food, with Michael sharing his fondness for canned spaghettios, they tasted fine cold. Sharing his own fond memory from childhood of his mother making soup as a rare show of maternal care. Melted cheese dripped over cut up toast, then dipped in the tomato soup.

The clock was still ticking in his head, counting down the end of this brief interlude of happiness. Alex laid back on his couch with a tray of soup on his lap and tried to soak in every minute. The thrill of sharing a meal together, sitting side by side on his couch with the evening news droning on in the background. It was a type of domesticity that he never thought he had wanted until Michael. His thoughts turned away from the wholesome toward the carnal as he watched Michael pucker his lips together to blow on the steaming bowl.

The food was delicious, but that was a distracting sight for anyone, let alone someone who knew just what Michael’s mouth was capable of doing.

Michael flashed a wicked smile when he caught Alex staring, picking up his strip of toast to dip in his soup and then licked it indecently clean. The perfect bow of his mouth around his food, his tongue chasing his lips for every drop of spilled soup had Alex shifting on the couch. The production lasted until Michael hit a hot place in his bowl, squeaking in shock, sending Alex into a peal of laughter at the affronted look on his face.

“Fuck, that’s hot!”

“Yes it was.”

“Asshole, I meant the soup!”

Alex laughed long and hard, his head tipped back against the couch, and after a moment, Michael joined him. Tears came to his eyes, the laughter set off each time they looked at each other. There was a point, where Alex realized he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, at least not in the last year outside of talking to Michael on the phone.

It was worth it. All of it. Infiltrating Deep Sky, spending half of his time around people who would cheerfully murder an alien, even using sex to get information, the price was not too steep to pay if it meant he could protect this moment, preserve it and repeat it forever. To see laugh lines around Michael’s mouth, instead of the press of fear, he would fuck the Devil himself if it meant Michael was safe.

He slowly sobered on the couch, his laughter gone at the thought of losing this. Michael placed their empty dishes in the kitchen and then drew Alex’s foot into his lap to rub. “I can practically see the gears turning now. Relax, okay? Watching the clock doesn’t help.”

“I know,” Alex agreed quietly, pressing his foot into Michael’s grip. “I’m feeling a little guilty here, with all this pampering.”

Michael dug his thumbs into Alex’s instep, drawing a loud groan of appreciation as he worked on releasing the knots of stress. Too much time in combat boots, the calluses were thick and tough under Michael’s hands but he kept rubbing regardless.

“If that guilt motivates you into taking better care of yourself-”

“I know, I am trying. But what about you?” Alex gestured toward Michael’s face with his own look of judgment, “are you sleeping enough? Eating enough?”

“I’m also trying. It will be better once this is over. Once you get to meet the head of Deep Sky, and hack him, we’ll both sleep better.”

“If it’s ever over. I’m starting to think the leader of Deep Sky is like the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Instead of pulling on the threads of pessimism, Michael tugged on Alex’s ankle as he crawled closer to him on the couch. As a subject change, it was a welcome one to Alex. Why dwell on the future, it was better to enjoy the present. Michael’s hands smoothed over the soft fleece of the sweatpants, sending a thrill of excitement through Alex. He slipped down on the seat to allow Michael room.

“Is it okay to pamper you a little more?” Michael asked, his eyes dark as his fingers slipped inside the waistband of Alex’s sweats. He teased at the taut muscles, stroking his fingers over the soft rasp of hair trailing downward.

“What did you have in mind?”

“When’s the last time someone’s sucked this big dick of yours?”

There was a dark hint of teasing in Michael’s voice, he was daring Alex to say a name. Forrest’s name. It was the type of playful provocation they could use with each other now, safely, the result of their late night phone calls to each other. When time was valued, what was the point of secrets between them?

Alex licked his lips absently, giving Michael a thorough head to toe look of consideration, before answering honestly, “It was in Santa Fe. At the Silver Saddle Motel. A very hot cowboy sucked me until I was hard, and then rode my dick all night long.”

Michael blinked, not expecting that answer, but pinked in pleasure. “Oh…well then, you’ve been deprived because that was months ago.” He pulled down on Alex’s sweats, letting the band of elastic tuck neatly under his balls and sat back to admire the view. Alex shifted under his eyes, his cock straining upward as Michael bent his head down. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, he’s a short guy, all of this probably doesn’t fit in his mouth,” Michael commented, wrapping his palm around Alex’s cock firmly.

“Yeah,” Alex gasped, hitching up into Michael’s grip, “small mouth, it’s hard to even kiss, impossible to fuck-” His voice gave out as Michael licked the bead of pre-cum with tip of his tongue before stretching his mouth wide. There was a way that Michael approached cock-sucking that Alex could never get over. The look of hunger and that deep breath he always took, as if he had to hold himself back to keep from gorging himself on Alex’s cock.

Alex had been deprived. Very deprived.

Slowly Michael slid his lips down on Alex’s cock, taking him deep into his mouth. His tongue, warm and firm, dragged downward. Alex cried out in pleasure, it felt so good, his hips rocking upward imperceptibly as his iron-strong control was rocked by Michael. He kept his eyes trained on Michael’s mouth, the reddening stretch of his lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Michael looked up, catching his eye and then bobbed his mouth downward.

Reaching downward, Alex placed his hand against Michael’s jaw and traced his thumb around the edge of his mouth. “So good, you take me so well, Michael.”

The praise had Michael blinking in pleasure before he redoubled his efforts in sucking. Alex gasped again, sinking deeper into Michael’s throat until his lips were kissing the sparse hair, down to the root. Fuck. He was ready to come already. Worse than the clock sweeping toward the end of the evening, was his body ready to end it now.

“Close, I’m gonna-” Alex warned, his hands going to Michael’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Michael off of him, or keep Michael in place to feed him his cock in case he backed away as Alex teetered on the edge of orgasm. His grip clutched uselessly on him, but Michael showed no signs of stopping his efforts.

Kicking at the couch cushion, he lost the fight to hold back, as he felt his cock hit the back of Michael’s throat. There was a tightening around him, throat muscles working hard to swallow, and then Michael wrapped his hand back around the base of Alex’s cock to stroke him in time with his sucking. His free hand gently squeezed Alex, before rubbing a knuckle along the seam of his balls to his perineum. The outside touch against his prostate was enough to have Alex coming hard down Michael’s throat.

God it was so good. Michael knew every place to touch him. He knew to keep his mouth on Alex as he came, swallowing his release sloppily, until come and saliva leaked from his lips. It was over far too fast, but Michael held on until Alex felt the tears of overstimulation burn in his eyes. Slowly Michael softened his lips, letting Alex’s spent cock slip lazily from his messy mouth and then met Alex’s gaze with a knowing glint.

Michael knew exactly how depraved he looked.

It was too soon to get hard again, but Alex felt the twinge of it as he stared at Michael. His hands were greedy, cupping Michael’s face between them before wiping up the spill from Michael’s lips with his thumb. Two could play at that game, he thought as he brought it to his mouth.

“Fuck,” Michael swore softly, “Look at you, tasting yourself.”

“I’d rather taste you,” Alex patted the couch he was laying down on and straightened his disheveled sweatpants. “Take off those jeans and wrap those great thighs of yours around my head and let me suck you.”

“Actually, I’d rather take you to bed.”

Alex glanced at the clock behind Michael. It was close to midnight. He knew based on experience that Forrest would be by in the morning with coffee, before Alex was fully awake. It was a transparent way of trying to catch him off guard, to see if Alex would slip up with news about Michael, or any other alien. After every short trip back to Roswell, the other man had made sure to find an excuse to be in Alex’s house.

“I know I can’t stay, but I don’t want to leave.”

“I never want you to leave either.” Alex chewed on his lower lip, as Michael waited. Sensing his advantage, he tilted his head seductively, spilling his curls over one eye and then made a transparent pleading face at Alex. Laughing, Alex conceded, “Okay, okay, you can stay for a little while. Help me to bed, and set an alarm.”

***

#malex fic #roswell new mexico #not forrest long friendly #alex goes undercover #season 3 spoilers

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x2 Thoughts

Having watched the first two episodes of the second season of Ted Lasso, I exist in two mindsets simultaneously:

I enjoy watching episodes of this situational comedy! It is fun.

I have watched one-sixth of a gut-wrenching film about mental health. I would like to finish the film, but I have no choice but to accomplish this in small increments over the next ten weeks.

I’ve only watched 2x2 one time, but this week is bonkers and I’m not sure I’ll be able to rewatch before 2x3 airs, so here are my impressions.

I am very, very obsessed with how Jamie just found out George Harrison died (or so he says) and is clearly going to be part of a whole father-son journey with his own dad and Ted and Ted’s own dad and Henry and Sam and Sam’s dad...and Ted's actual son is a small child who still believes all the Beatles are alive.

I am also obsessed with every single exchange between Ted and Sharon, which are so fraught, so full of detail, so well-executed. I know a lot of people were pretty bummed that Ted said his favorite book was The Fountainhead, but I don’t think Ted or Sharon were being entirely honest about their favorite books. To me it felt like they were using book titles to...not play a game, exactly, but circle around each other a bit. By claiming The Fountainhead, which he admits is a curveball, Ted’s saying he’s independent and committed to his methods, even if all evidence points to some struggles on that front. By claiming Prince of Tides, Sharon’s asking Ted to think more about therapy and psychology and its place in his personal and professional relationships. I don’t think either of them are setting out to maliciously lie to each other about books; I actually think that by speaking in this veiled way, they end the episode more open to each other.

I also found it really interesting that (to my memory) we’ve never seen Ted obsess over video games, so his whole speech to Sharon about choosing not to deny himself (unlike how she denies herself sugar) also felt like an example he was trying to come up with to prove a point without having to talk about the really core issues in his life. Obviously there are plenty of people who love video games and music, but Ted uses music and music history and trivia and musicals to drive conversations all the time, and it’s genuine. Practically half of his conversations with Beard revolve around music, and when he uses his disarming get-to-know-you tactics on Rebecca last season, it feels (and is) genuine because the first thing he wants to talk about is music. It’s totally possible that video games are a big thing with him, but it feels like he’s doling out very second- or third-tier examples and metaphors in this psychologist-gaffer relationship that he’s still so cautious about.

Ted panics and tries to give Rebecca’s biscuits away! The triangulation continues! I love Rebecca’s little indignation.

I also love her face when she deletes the word “filthy” in front of Keeley. The best face. It’s such a funny moment.

Can I just say that I really liked all the Keeley and Roy stuff...mostly because I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen a character (especially a female character) realistically masturbate within the context of a character arc on an adorable TV comedy and for this to lead to some realistic embarrassment but also some realistic discussion about a relationship? It’s pretty lovely, and it made me happy. I continue to feel like the writers on this show are doing a particularly interesting job creating a whole lived-in atmosphere for these characters, and moments like that contribute to that feeling.

Taking a dramatic pivot back to the whole parenthood/fatherhood theme, oof. Ted’s individual conversations with Jamie and with Sam are both really moving, and it’s very “all people are different people” to get confirmation that Ted’s father wasn’t necessarily abusive towards Ted the way that Jamie’s father abuses him, but that Ted’s dad had a whole different thing going with himself. I think it’s important that Sam has a supportive father, Jamie has an abusive father, and Ted had a self-abusive (presumably) father as Ted has to deal with his own absence from Henry. And I’m so interested to see how it all plays out with Jamie returning to the team. I didn’t get the impression that anyone upstairs (Rebecca, Keeley, Higgins) were surprised; they all would have known Jamie’s return was happening. I haven’t decided how I feel about the team yet--if they were surprised in some way, or more just in a continued state of feeling stunned about Ted’s decision. Either way, it’s a great setup for all the issues with decision-making Ted’s already had and will likely continue to have as things get more difficult for him personally. I’ve been a little surprised by some fan reactions to this choice, because it seems to me that this is VERY clearly a decision that will hurt Sam in particular and the team as a whole, and also very clearly a decision that wasn’t done lightly, and also a decision colored by fatherhood-obligation feelings (help the person with the worst dad!), and yeah...it’s just complicated. I’ve seen a few reactions on here that indicate that this is somehow the first time Ted’s ever made a mistake and he’s ruined now, and that just doesn’t jive with the flawed, loving, complicated character I’ve been watching for twelve episodes now. Characters on this show don’t make mistakes or grey-area decisions for the heck of it or because it creates drama that will be interesting to watch; they make mistakes and grey-area decisions because people regularly do that, especially when they’re struggling.

Ted and Keeley being delighted by Sharon’s bike was great. The two most enthusiastic characters having a shared enthusiastic reaction to something is awesome.

Rebecca is the real Chaos Hammer! The water bottle gift basket?!? Her face when Keeley points out that there are lots of foods without sugar?!? The way she genuinely seems glad to meet Sharon and totally understands how to conduct herself in this professional relationship (with warmth, a bit of formality, etc.), but she wanted to get in a little dig as payback for Sharon rejecting her BFF’s biscuits?! Even if she was also upset that Ted panicked and tried to give them away in the first place? Lots to think about. And man, I really love that Rebecca seems to feel so much more settled in her friendships that she’s able to have a little fun. There’s a wacky person under all the suit jackets and hairspray and I love her.

I know there’s a lot more to think about in this episode, but that’s the stuff that’s lingering with me after having watched 2x2 first thing last Friday morning. I am super excited for 2x3 and I continue to feel like season 2 is Doing Great Things.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso 2x2 #meta by me #a lesbian watches ted lasso

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theravencawsatmidnight · 3 years

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Rabbit iiiiiii

Ending.

Want a chapter two? Let me know!

Draco finds a Hufflepuff attempting to cheat. He torments her, keeps her under his wing becoming possessive , unsure of his feelings. After turning Reader into a Rabbit he realizes how much of an ass he was. But now hes in Azkaban for his crimes.

A/n. Okay. So i asked Multiple people. “What happens in Azkaban?” They all said “you sit in a cell.” And im sitting here like. “I cant write that.” So THIS is what i came up with. I hope its okay :/.

W! Mind games, self injury(scratching), fear of going insane, Draco gets kicked and punched around.

@khemz1312 @goofygobber @rosiehufflepuff @trashyvicks

“Cheers love”

Draco said once you vanished from his sights, he never thought the twins would help you come see him, or anyone for that matter. Of all people, he was not exactly the most loved at Hogwarts. The man looked both ways down the very long hallway not seeing anything except for darkness. At least no one would bother him while he was thinking.

He made his way back to his spot under the window to think about his actions; maybe he went a little overboard with how he handled catching you. But a teacher? That's not as fun. Draco looked down at his hands counting the cuts all over them, he had the most on his palms and around his fingers. He was very roughed up, as soon as he got here the dementors were not very kind to him. Draco blinked his eyes feeling sleepy and slightly cold. He rolled his eyes leaning back on the wall reminiscing the time he turned you into a rabbit.

You were so cute like that; so little, curious, fit right in his pocket. Dracos hands fell to his sides and his eyes started to close. You had gotten used to him when you were a rabbit…

So tired…

When he got out Draco wanted to master the spell to change humans back whenever so he could turn you into a rabbit again. If you let him of course, he laid down on his side, holding himself.

Fading….

His father.. What would he do about that? Obviously he could not take you home . Maybe a flat of his own would be better. And that shop? It made him smirk as his eyes started to close. Cute..

Footsteps could be heard and they were getting closer now. It woke Draco up from his slumber which he was not happy about. The one time he was actually getting some sleep in this place.

“Dinner already?’ he asked, in a condescending tone as he got up to rest his back against the wall. “Is it more than bread today?”

The cell opened and closed after the figure stepped in. Draco scrambled to his feet with wide surprised eyes,“..Father?”

“Not the best cell.. But it suits you.” the man said, dusting the dirt off his clothes.

“What are you doing here? Who let you in?”

“I'm here because I have unpleasant news for you.” he took off his gloves while he spoke.

“..news?” Draco stepped over to his father.

“That girl you turned into a rabbit is dead.”

“..she… shes ……….” Draco went as far as the chain would let him to his father. His ankle was straining against the cold tight cuff link. “H..ho-w…”

“Quiddich”

“What?.. But she doesn't fly! She doesn't have a broom!” the man grabbed his fathers coat shaking it, asking him multiple questions just for Lucious to throw him off and kick him away from him. Draco hit the cold brick wall on his side in the corner. He held his head trying to process this , he was hurting inside and out.

“They needed one more , and you were not there so I suggested...”

Draco glared over at his Father, who looked rather proud of himself. His hands went to his hair white knuckling them. “You…”

“She didn't last long, it was a waste.” Lucious stepped to his son grabbing his chin so he was looking at him. “And to think she would still be alive if you just left her alone”

“Its not my fault!” Draco shoved his father just for him to strike him down into the cell floor. “Get your hands off me boy, remember who your authority is. “

“Shes dead because of you!, shes.. !!! …………………..” Draco felt very cold all of a sudden, looking down he saw that his hand was fading as if it was getting sucked up by something.

“Wait.. Azkaban would never let you come into the cell…” Draco stumbled up, hitting the wall to steady himself. “They wouldn't.. Your not my father! Get out you bloody dementor!!!”

“Draco dont you know your own father?”

“Shut up! I know my father and thats not you!”

“Pity, enjoy your time here.” the figure of Lucious faded and Draco woke up in a very cold sweat. He was still laying down under the window, no one was with him in the cell and his body ached.

“Dementors.. “ slowly he got up moving to the corner to hug his knees. “Do your bloody worst, im Draco ffffffucking Malfoy.”

It won't be the last time the Dementors mess with Draco… they were determined to break him. Throughout the two years he was there you had not come to see him again except that one time the twins helped you. Draco told you now to bother the twins so you didn't. Fred and George did try to cheer you up though as much as they could. They even got a hold of Dracos old robes that they gave to you. It helped but you wanted the real thing. Him.The carrot cravings went away after a couple weeks which was nice. You did not need to carry a bag of the produce with you anymore.

Hufflepuff was still weary of you and Slytherin were still jerks. The Ravenclaws sympathized with you and you found comfort in them when you needed it. You wanted to visit him, see if he was okay. But all you could do was hope and stare out your window at the moon knowing he was looking at the same one ..

Two years later.

“You killed me”

“Shhhuut up….”

“Im dead, because of you.”

“...”

“Do you ever wonder? What could you have done differently? Acted in a more.. Reasonable way?”

“Your not .rrr.-re-al..”

“Not anymore, my time on this earth has ended. Because of you Draco”

Draco ran into the bars punching at them, blood was dripping from them now. The figure of you faded away right as he got to them to reappear in the cell next to him now. “Your not real..” he said again.

“Treated me like an animal, toyed with me..-” he swung at the dementor watching it fade away then reappear. “I was just a hufflepuff, an innocent girl.” Draco shook his head but the thoughts just got louder and louder.

“Dead”

“Gone”

“Killed”

“Stay here”

“...with me, let's be together” you held out a rotted hand to the shaking man. “Be like me”

Draco had been tormented by these dementors at least 3 times a week ever since his ‘father’ had come to see him. Day in and day out for at least 6 hours a day a dementor came to him as you to try to get Draco to crack.

The first time he almost fell for it, but he quickly realized it was not you. You were not a crying mess trying to touch him and you could not float….

But still seeing your figure hurt him, your body was made to look dead to cause even more damage to the man which it did. All he could do was endure and think about you, the real you. It was all he had to hold on to. He told himself when he spent his first night here that he would be okay, he would make it out fine.

But now hes crying on the floor at least twice a week with new bruises, cuts, and a giant headache. He fully knew how awful he was to you now, he had to apologize properly. That motivated him to fight, along with keeping you safe from his father. He would get out, he would be okay.

“...b-b-b-e like you?”

“Yes Draco, like me. Lets be together, lets get out of here.”

“Get .. out..”

“Yes , lets get-”

“No, you get out. Get out of my cell, get out of my head just GET OUT!, ill never go with you! Your not real and your NOT HER!” he stepped back, tripping over his feet and grabbing the cell bars to steady himself. His clothes by now were tattered and his dirty dark blond hair was in a pony tail. The cuts on his face turned to scars and his nails were bloody from him scratching at his itchy skin . Everytime he swung at the dementor it would fade out leaving traces of itself on the man making him freak out and scratch at his own skin till they turned purple.

The dementor faded through the bars down the hallway and Draco sunk down to his knees scratching at his arms trying to free himself of the lingering black smoke.

“Rabbit… “ Draco choked in a big breath glancing over at the small window to see the moon shining in on him. “Ill get out.. Ill be okay. We will be okay……………………….”

A few days later a man had come to Dracos cell. He unlocked the old door letting it swing open. The man stepped to the side gesturing to the hallway and Draco looked up from his hand to see Snape looking in at him.

“Hurry up, its filthy in here.”

“How is she….”

“Why don't you see for yourself? Do i look like a owl?”

“More like an over dramatic snake.” Draco slowly got up limping to his old professor who helped steady him.

“Im glad your okay, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his shoulders and cracked his very purple bloody knuckles. “Of course i am”

Meanwhile, those two years you had graduated and opened up your own shop with the help of Fred and George. They pulled some strings and found an empty building you could sell potions in. it was a small building but you liked it.

The Wet Nose it was called. With little bunny decorations all over the inside and on the sign, the sign was your favorite. It had a little bunny looking over the sign with its ears down. You tried to make it apparent you were here so Draco could find you.. All you could do was wait now..

Draco had left Azkaban with Snape , showered, eaten , and dressed in real clothes. He was in clean black pants with a matching suit top with awhite shirt underneath and black shoes. His face was still heavily scared and his knuckles were starting to slowly heal. The scratches on his arms would not heal though. They would stay that way for a really long time. He worried if you would still want him like this. He also kept his hair long , just past his neck he liked it. Draco was not completely free of the dementors, he could still hear them in his head from time to time. Whispering things for him to come back and what not. He always had to shake his head and they would go away for the time being.

Snape had dropped him off at Diagon Alley as he requested. Before he left he got out of the car to give Draco one final word.

“Malfoy”

“What? Which way am i going?”

The man rolled his eyes and pulled Draco in for a one arm hug, even though draco loathed this. The poor man fought and cursed, slipping free of this unwanted affection.

“The bloody hell was that?”

“Go down this way, on the left.”

“Fantastic but what was-” he slapped him on the head.

“Oww!!! What gives?”

“Thats, for barging into my classroom.” and with that he left.

“Barging into my classroom” mocked the man fixing his hair.

Draco wasted no time getting to your shop. He found it easily and just stared at the sign. He was scared. Terrified, would you still want him… you said you would wait for him.. But.. the way he looks. He shook his head, making the dementors stop. “No. she will, she waited all this time. She will.”

Ring ring!! The bell on the door went off once Draco opened the door. The first thing that got his attention was the many smells coming from all over the room. All the windows were open with plants sitting in them . He had to make his way to the back where the register was, passing all types of potions a variety of colors. When he finally went to it he saw a little brown rabbit sitting on the counter wiggling its nose. The rabbit tilted its head at Draco and the man did the same.

“Biscuit? Is someone here? And you didn't ring them up you silly animal” you joked coming from the back room up to the counter.

You looked up from the rabbit to see Draco standing there, his smile slumped and he had his mouth half open. He was in awe. It was really you. The real you. Quickly he fixed himself and his smile went all the way up his face, the man stepped closer with a happy, relieved tone.

“Hey, Rabbit”

#draco 😤#draco x hufflepuff reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #.RabbiyFic

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